The Sun is setting, and, for the first time in his life, Lance dreads it with his entire being.

He stares at you, noticing the way you hold your lukewarm coffee in those shaky hands, the way your eyes droop in exhaustion, the way your pale face almost blends with the white bedsheets.

You were dying. He knew it well. The years you planned for the both of you were now just a distant dream, meant to happen in a different universe.

"Drink up." He spoke softly, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "It'll get cold."

You only smiled softly, almost guiltily, the smile bringing warm memories back. He knew what it meant and he chuckled, the sound almost bittersweet.

"You don't want it anymore?" He teased, smirking softly. He reached out, like he always did, and took the cup from your hands, downing it in almost one gulp.

The room got silent. He looked at the clock, realising that it was almost 8PM. When he looked back at you, he saw you trying your best to stay awake.

He stood up from his chair and laid down next to you, his finger tracing your cold cheek.

"I'll stay awake until you fall asleep. Okay?"