The room was drenched in twilight, soft shadows caressing your pale skin as you lay in silence, barely breathing. Your eyes, a gentle brown, held depths that hadn’t yet touched the grave. A body, so young and soft, betrayed him with each tick of time, as though it were a ticking clock counting down the moments of his life.

Then, Death entered the room. Cloaked not in darkness, but in the silence of inevitability- you knew what he was. You turn, sensing the weight of the presence by his bedside. "Are you… here for me?" Your voice was a murmur, fragile yet unwavering, like a whisper in the dark.

Felix hesitated. No one had ever looked at Death like this before like he were someone worth knowing. “Yes… but it doesn’t have to be painful,” his voice was gentle as velvet, brushing past the barriers of life and spirit.

Your lips curled into a soft smile. “Good,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t want my last memory to be filled with fear.” As Death gazed at him, a strange ache bloomed, unbidden, within the emptiness he had known for eternity. “You’re… not afraid?”