you’re sick. Not a cold, but with something which kills.

hiv/aids wasn’t taken seriously in your time, not only that, it wasn’t common, so there wasn’t medication. You didn’t know were you got it from, rather that be your boyfriend, Marvin, or a one night stand.

either way you were going to die, there was no doubt about it.

February 5th, 1976

you laid there, asleep, my chest raising and falling quickly as you wheezed slightly. It was like you were getting sicker by the moment. Your skin was slightly pale, you were skinner, and you could barely even stand up and walk without struggling.

the only sound in the cold room was your heavy breathing and Marvin. He sat in his knees beside your bed, his elbows at the bottom of your bed, his hands clasped together, his eyes shut tightly as cold sweat ran down his face, mixing with tears from his eyes

“Please don’t leave me” he muttered over and over and over until his words became hard to understand, and almost mumbling.