He ran a shaky hand through his hair. He wanted so badly to cry, but his eyes just didn't seem to want to cooperate and let the tears spill over. He had known this day would come eventually, but in the back of his mind he had always hoped that it would be him to accomplish it first, not her.
He had thought he was having a nightmare, when the physician came out to tell him that she wasn't going to be with them for much longer. That she, the person who had taught him to love, would be gone forever soon. It was just a matter of time. He had pinched himself black and blue, trying to force himself to wake up from this terrible dream. Eventually, he had to admit that, although horrible, this was a reality.
It was then that he had wished he had never cut her hair, all those years ago. If she still had her hair, then this all could be fixed. With a short song, all of this pain could just disappear. But there was no more magic. Nothing could be done except to make the short time she had left as comfortable as possible.
He rubbed his face harshly before straightening his back and arranging his features into a mask of composure. He didn't want her to know just how much he was hurting. He couldn't do that to her.
Slowly and carefully, he pushed open the door to her room. His eyes fell upon her immediately and he took in the sight of her. She looked so small and fragile, underneath the piles of blankets and pillows, sound asleep. He stepped into the room, walking to the edge of the bed. He gently ran a hand through her now-grey hair.
His touch seemed to rouse her from her slumber. She blinked up at him with those huge green eyes of hers and smiled softly.
"Hey, Blondie," he said, using the ironic nickname he knew she had come to love. His voice sounded hoarse, and he mentally cursed himself for not being better at keeping his composure.
"Hey," she responded quietly, reaching a comforting hand out to gently stroke his face. He leaned into her touch. He still had no idea how she always knew how to make him feel better. And he had no idea what he was going to do without her comfort.
After a few moments, she let her hand fall back onto her stomach. With her other arm, she reached out, patting the spot beside her on the bed. He needed no other invitation as he slipped under the covers and pulled her gently to him. He could smell her vanilla shampoo, and he couldn't help but smile at the fact that she still used the same scent after all these years, simply because she knew it was his favorite. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
They stayed that way for a long while, just enjoying the other's presence while they could. Finally, however, she pulled away. He asked if she was okay, and she simply shushed him with a sweet kiss. "I have something for you," she said. She then turned and lifted the pile of pillows, picking up a large book. She handed it to him, then leaned back against the headboard, seemingly satisfied.
Confused, he opened up the book. Inside, a title was written: The Tales of Eugene Fitzherbert. He couldn't believe that it was what he thought, so he continued turning the pages. Written was a detailed retelling of every adventure the two of them had shared, complete with illustrations as well. It started with the first time he ever climbed her tower, and continued on with the rest of their lives.
Each chapter was a different story, ranging from silly stories like when she had decided to teach him how to bake and they had ended up in a food fight in the palace kitchen, to moments he never wanted to forget like when he first found out he was going to be a father. He flipped through, devouring its contents. She hadn't missed a moment. Not one second was forgotten in this book. She had recorded everything. All those times when he had thought she was just doodling in a sketchbook, or writing in some diary, she had been making this.
Finally, he finished the book, closing it with a soft thud. It was only then that he realized he was crying. He wasn't sure when it had started, but now he couldn't seem to stop. He turned to her then, his face tear-streaked and his eyes full of love. She had been watching him the entire time, quietly gauging his reactions.
"I love you," he whispered, not trusting his voice to go any louder just then.
"I love you, too," she said with a smile. He was going to miss that smile so much. And, though he had promised himself that he wouldn't bring it up, he couldn't help the words that fell from his lips then. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you here," he told her, giving her a sad smile as he brushed her bangs away from her face. He never forgot the next words she said, as they ended up being her last.
"Well, that's the good part, I guess. You get to go find a new dream."