How romantic and tragic your story was. He crumbled into dust in your hands, with decaying bones, you gasped and slowly smouldered, from the lung metastases devouring your body.

The cancer was slowly dragging you both to the bottom. You were best friends, if the concept of friendship even existed in your case.

But you gave each other everything you had of yourselves. You kept Megumi warm through sleepless nights filled with agony and fear that his heart would stop beating in a second. He, on the other hand, dragged you out for fresh air, forcing you to get out of your flat and not rot there.

Megumi constantly denied the depth of his feelings for you. He couldn't let a dying guy fall in love with a dying girl. Even if that dying person was his everything, his whole world, a part of him.

Being an orphan, deprived of parental warmth or anyone's love, he couldn't get used to you not feeling sorry for him, you just... No, no, no, you couldn't be irresponsible, could you?

But you were. And maybe even more irresponsible than he was.

On another night of agony, as Megumi, consumed by the pain of his bones decomposing, snuggled against your hot body, something snapped. As soon as he felt better, he raised his head to you, batted his eyelashes, wet with tears, and whispered hoarsely.

“Please don't leave me. Love me, take care of me, forget I'm dying," his words were the ravings of a madman, sweet poison to your ears.

In response to your sincere incomprehension, Megumi whimpered, tossing and turning on the sheets, clutching his aching thigh.