Soft rain glistened upon the windowsill. The canvas of sky was painted a mournful sort of gray. Perhaps the gray of new beginnings, the gray of a new spark of life, the gray of colorlessness and struggle for individuality. Perhaps the sort of gray to be molded carefully into something vibrant and beautiful. Or perhaps it was mourners' gray; something quite dreary that marked the end of such a vibrant life; when the palette was washed out and the kaleidoscope of colors must leave. What gray it was, depended on the person and what sort of day they were having.

For a nurse: it was always mourners' gray. For the man sitting by the bedside of a hospital cot: it was mourners' gray. For the woman on the cot: it was beginner's gray. Perhaps that was simply because she had always been an optimist: praying for a better world-for the happiness of others. It could not be helped, really, for her colors had been the brightest. Her resolve the most resilient. Her heart the most compassionate. Her love, oh... her love for the man beside the cot: the strongest.

A pale hand was outstretched towards his cheek. Pallid, feeble, yet warm; strong, loving. Her touch was a sweet caress. The woman's brown eyes were elated though tears sprung in the corners. "I'm sorry," she apologized, smiling through tears. "I didn't mean to leave like this."

He couldn't speak; his breathing was just shallow. He placed his trembling hand upon her own. She was smiling, though. She always smiled, he could remember that. The man hardly had memories where she was not smiling. Even when they had told her she possessed a fatal disease, she had just smiled, nodded, reminisced her existence, and had moved forward. She was beautiful that way, to him, at least. His fiancee was not the most beautiful woman to walk upon the Earth-except she was-to him, at any rate. She had been bright during the whole ordeal, until she had collapsed as they returned from an event. What event, he could hardly recall. The man had to carry her to the hospital where she had stayed for the longest time. Now, the heart monitor was faltering. Her life, her beautiful, beautiful life wavering between his fingers.

"Thank you for loving me..."

Akane... he could only reply dimly in his head. Akane, please...

"I've never been happier than in my time with you, Shinya Kougami," she was still smiling that beautiful smile of hers. That smile that had given him so much hope. That smile that had made him feel so loved for once in his life.

Akane!

"I'm sorry we couldn't spend eternity together."

He was crying silent tears at this point. Akane gently, oh-so-gently with that crumbling strength of hers, wiped his tears. Her smile, wavering like his heart.

"Please be strong. Don't do anything I wouldn't want you to," tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, as well. "I didn't mean to leave this way. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. I'm so sorry. I am. But, thank you."

Akane, please don't say these things... Shinya begged though his lips could hardly form the words. She smiled, shaking her head as if she knew his exact thoughts.

"Thank you for giving me hope when no one else could. Thank you for loving me, for being there, for being kind, for being you. Don't do anything... brash... this isn't good-bye..." she closed her eyes, the heart monitor stopping.

He stopped breathing. No, that couldn't have been right. She was gone. Her existence leaving the room as brightly as she had come. The man sank his teeth into his lower lip, the tears falling far more freely than before. "Akane..." he whispered hoarsely. He could only repeat her name to himself. Shinya kept murmuring her name, for it was the only thing that brought him comfort in her loss. He closed his eyes, sobbing as he had done when he was a child. He had never cried like this, though, not as he remembered, anyways. His shoulders shook, grip still tight on her hand. Akane had thanked him. She had seemed so beautiful, so serene, even in death.

This isn't good-bye... her words rang throughout his mind. Shinya did not believe in a life after death or anything of the sort in such a matter. But, for some reason, as he gazed upon her frame. He believed her. This isn't good-bye, Akane.