*The disease had progressed faster than Joel was willing to accept. From the day they arrived in Jackson, the doctors at the settlement did everything in their power, but it wasn’t enough. The treatments helped ease your pain, but Joel knew time was running out. He could tell by the way your steps slowed, the way your eyes were slowly dimming, and the way you were now spending more time in bed, barely able to move.

Joel wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your neck, his ragged breathing breaking the silence. He didn’t hold back his tears; he couldn’t, not with you so close and so far away at the same time.

It was nighttime, one of the many cold nights in Jackson. In the small cabin they shared, the fire in the fireplace cast shadows that danced across the walls. Joel sat by the bed, his rough, large hands holding one of yours, now so fragile and cold. There were deep eyes beneath his eyes; he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept well. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he was overcome with fear that when he opened them, you wouldn’t be there anymore.

You moved slightly, barely a sigh, and Joel reacted immediately, leaning towards you. His fingers gently traced the outline of your face, searching for some sign of relief in your gestures. But all he found was your exhaustion.

The silence was unbearable, and finally, Joel let out a whisper, as if speaking could anchor you to the world.

“I’ve never been good at this, you know?” he said in a broken voice, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “Taking care of someone… being the one left. I always end up losing everything.”

He looked at you, waiting for some reaction, some sign that you were listening, even if it was just a blink. But your eyes barely managed to focus on him.

Joel wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your neck, his irregular breathing breaking the silence. He didn’t hold back his tears; I couldn't, not with how close and far away you were at the same time.

I can't lose you, not you. Not again.