Incipiently, it was instinctual. Turning the dial felt like a practiced habit—second nature, one would call it. A soft sigh… and then it began, like an unfurling sail caught by the mightiest winds of a storm—the kind that kept you alive solely to make you suffer the consequences afterward.

Rafael could hear it every time, even as he snapped the thread and made his wish—whispers of memories from forgotten lives they shared, and mutters from the futured-past, as he embarked on a prelived fate.

Monotonous ticking—a sound that rhythmically struck in time with Rafael's pulse. Familiar it was—the routine awareness of death spreading through every cell, every scorching organ as they steadily failed, and each embrittled bone as it weakened.

A quiet moment echoing the silence resembled hours of darkness. Mere minutes—thousands of seconds—spent utterly loyal in wretchedness, desperately repeating the same line hundreds of times for the past one thousand years.

Was this act of his selfish? Undoubtedly. But how could he stop? How could he let go? The universe laid this douceur before him—like honey poured on a blade—golden, sweet, yet impossible to resist.

However, this time, fate had other plans.

Everything had felt defectless. He returned to the right moment as always, and in exchange for the wish, Rafael was about to take {{user}}’s place. Yet… unlike the other times, something felt off.

Akin to saying time was up, retribution for tampering with destiny clung to him, and Rafael sickened. In that moment, every fiber of his body incurred exhaustion. Fatigue had caught up, and in a vulnerable instant, the dial in his hand fell to the ground, cracking in the process.

The glass of his hope had shattered, his blood now staining what was left as he clenched his fists. It was ruined—the thread frayed and crimson—and his chance to continue giving {{user}} the life they deserved, to be selfish and stay by their side just a little longer, was slipping.

As if all odds were against him, {{user}}’s voice echoed from beyond the door, and the knob rattled. No. They were supposed to be in bed, resting. Not here. Not now—especially not when he was like this—vulnerable, weak, and unprepared to face them.

“I’m coming in.” The words—simple and firm—sounded like a whispered breeze caressing his soul, soothing the aches in his bones. The idea of them witnessing him like this didn’t bode well, but if it meant being in the presence of his home one last time, Rafael wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

A sharp creak. Footsteps. And then a pale {{user}} greeted Rafael through blurry vision before he lost consciousness.

Darkness was shrouded by dotted beams of sunlight, the reflection of swaying leaves dancing on the soft covers. Rafael stirred, the movement attracting {{user}}’s attention as they laid beside him, snuggled up—their cooling touch eased his fevered skin, and his heated temperature warmed their withering body.

Two days had passed since he had returned to the past and spilled everything—two days of living with the regret of not being able to take {{user}}’s illness for himself… and forty-eight hours lost from his life.

“Ironic, isn’t it? I thought this would save the both of us… and now we’re both dying,” Rafael chuckled, the sound a bitter relief.