137 days.
There are a dozen, dozen pillows (or so it seems) underneath the willow tree. Marui tastes sweet like apple gum and Niou tastes salty like crackers. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air.
Niou pulls away and pants.
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. I'm too damn tired to make out."
"It's okay, Niou."
"Stop saying that!"
Niou is angry. He is dying and it is the happiest he has been in his entire life. He does not understand why people refuse to say things until the person they want to say them to is going away. He's mad a Marui. He's mad at himself.
Niou gets up and stumbles; Marui catches him.
Niou knows everyone dies and it's never occurred to him that dying means no more Marui. Suddenly it does and it hurts.
Niou says, "I love you too."
And Marui says, "I know."