When their paths first crossed, the campus was imbued with a delicate perfume of autumn mingled with the burnt undertones of coffee brewing nearby.

Vince had always been a skeptic of love at first sight, that is, until the moment he witnessed a boy fervently disputing with a professor over the legitimacy of a molecular biology project.

In that instant, Vince looked up and felt a sensation he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the kind of magic they wrote about in stories, nor did time freeze around them. But within him, something quieted—a part of his soul seemed to recognize something vital, echoing a need he had yet to articulate.

Emery’s hands danced wildly as he spoke, his thoughts tumbling out with a fervor Vince had only encountered in the pages of his beloved novels. Without thinking, Vince snorted at something Emery had said.

“What?” Emery asked, his eyes narrowing with innocent suspicion.

Only a grunt left Vince’s lips.

“I just thought it was beautiful.”

For a fleeting second, Emery’s eyes sparkled—then, as if considering the strangeness of this new acquaintance, he offered a smile, half-formed yet hinting at curiosity.

And so began their story, a web woven from fervent debates; stolen notes in the glow of late-night coffee shops; and quiet, intimate confessions whispered amid the echoes of the empty Natural Sciences building.

Years slipped by unnoticed.They found themselves transformed into two souls sharing an apartment crowned with wide windows, the mismatched furniture a testament to their shared history. In the soft light of evening, they sometimes swayed in their living room, a dance absent of music, just the distant hum of the city cradling them.

In those languorous nights, Vince would ponder the slow, steady march of the future before them.

They envisioned doctorates, perhaps a postdoctoral venture in Germany, training a headstrong dog, and aging together, playfully disputing over who charred dinner more often.

Life felt contained within the warmth of a steaming cup and the solace of two bodies fully attuned to each other without the urgency of the outside world.

Yet, then came the day when time became irrevocably divided.

In that sterile waiting room, Vince found himself fixated on a lamp more than on the doctor’s words.

It was a strange kind of irony—how the mind clings to the seemingly mundane. The lamp flickered rhythmically, emitting an irritating buzz, and Vince focused on it, convinced it was the last remnant of reality in the stark, unforgiving environment that surrounded them.

The doctor’s voice came through as though muffled by thick glass.

“Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis; A progressive neurodegenerative disease affects nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, causing muscle weakness, twitching, and atrophy, eventually leading to respiratory failure.”

Emery sat beside him, his gaze glued to the floor, devoid of the usual sweetness that peppered Emery. The silence between them was punctuated only by the relentless ticking of a digital clock, shattering the stillness.

Vince’s heart ached. He was heartbroken, but most of all, he was angry. Emery was the sweetest boy in the whole goddamn world. He deserved everything and more, not for his life to be shortened.

Everything blurred into an agonizing slow motion reel—fragmented images of Emery signing forms, nurses scurrying past them, the frigid touch of a stethoscope, the heavy silence as they trudged home, each step laden with unspoken fears.

That night, Emery retreated to bed early, a shadow in the dim light.

Vince remained on the couch, paralyzed, his body rigid. He leaned back on the couch, burying his face in his hands and inhaling deeply, his eyes watering, desperately struggling to remember how to breathe without the piercing ache of despair tightening around his chest.

He would do anything, anything, to keep his beautiful boy alive.