This is for Kaylee (xlovemarano on Twitter). Love you lots.

He sees her in his T-shirt one morning. She's not doing anything really, just standing on their balcony, enjoying the early summer breeze while it lasts, because in Miami, stale, dry air will envelope you faster than you can say your name. The shirt is sitting crooked, and her hair – completely rustled but adorably messy – is sitting on the fabric gently like art.

Her arms are wrapped around herself and her bare legs are visibly full of goosebumps. He considers bringing her a blanket, but he knows as well as her that even though it's chilly, it's the best kind of weather to have in the morning. He walks slowly towards the window and admires the way she is so easily in awe at the simplicity of a busy morning and a sunrise. He taps lightly on the glass and she turns, slightly startled. She smiles when she sees him and goes to stand right outside the screen door. He copies her and they're standing almost completely together, save for the screen between them.

She looks up at him and grins. "I love you," she says.

"I love you more," he answers. "Nope," she says defiantly. "I love you more." She giggles.

"No way," he replies. She reaches up and he leans down and they kiss each other through the door. They break away laughing. "Come inside," he says. "I want my shirt back."

"Do you want your shirt back or do you just want it off me?" she counters, unmoving, glaring playfully.

"Either works for me," he shrugs, winking. He steps back as she comes inside and she closes the remaining distance between them with another heated kiss. He lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist in one swift motion.

"I love you more," she whispers as he kisses her neck.

He wakes her as he always does if he's up first, slowly, and with a dozen kisses. Only today, he had a rose in his hand and a birthday card. He presses his first kiss to her temple, lightly brushing her hair from her face. He places one on her upward cheek, and one on the corner of her mouth. "Good morning, princess," he whispers. He brings his lips to her collar bone, completely exposed in her position, and softly presses one, two, three kisses in the same relative area. "Happy birthday," he says. He sees her shiver delicately, and he knows she's waking slowly. He presses his lips to hers for the last kiss and her eyes flutter open.

"Mm?" she mutters incoherently.

"It's your birthday, Ally," Austin explains softly. "Happy birthday, baby." He presents her with the rose and the card as she sits up.

She opens the card and adjusts her (his) shirt simultaneously, covering the rest of where he plants kisses. She reads it quietly to herself. "I still can't write that well, so this isn't going to rhyme, but baby, I love you and I want to stay with you forever. Longer than that. You mean the world to me. I love you. Happy birthday."

She smiles and looks up at him. He's looking at her longingly and she gets on her knees to hug him. "Thank you," she says. "I love it. I love you."

"I love you more," he replies.

She pulls away. "No way," she says sternly. "You're the best boyfriend. Ever." She kisses him softly.

He pulls back then, and grins. "I am," he agrees. "But there's still more of your present." He ignores her disapproving smile and pulls her out of the bedroom gently. He leads her to their sun-room, her favourite room in the house, and makes her cover her eyes. The room was on the corner of the penthouse they shared, and two walls were entirely made of windows, looking out over Miami. He opens the door quietly and ushers her inside. "Open your eyes," he says.

She opens them eagerly and has to make a conscious effort not to cry where she stood. There, in front of her was a new grand piano, sleek and black and beautiful. Aligned on the walls hung a string of white lights. But as she got closer, she noticed a thick, brown book, worn from many years of usage, sitting atop the piano lid. She gasps and picks it up, doing a once-over. Her fingers lightly graze the A on the cover. "Y-you..." she sputters. "You found it." She looks at him, tears welling in your eyes.

He nods, smiling. "I was looking through some of the unpacked boxes the other day because I was trying to find my favourite hoodie, and it just fell out of it when I picked it up." He walks over and leans on the wall.

She smiles. "I forgot that I put it there," she says. "When we moved, I remember that I wanted to put it somewhere I was sure it wouldn't get ruined. I haven't seen it in over a year." She hugs the book to her chest.

"We really need to finish unpacking," he muses. She puts the book back and turns to look out the windows. He comes beside her and and puts an arm around her shoulder. He gives her a light kiss on the side of her forehead and looks out with her. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you more."

Those devastating, life-shattering words came far too soon, and Austin was left staring blankly at his hospital gown.

"You have cancer, Mr. Moon," the doctor repeats. "I'm sorry. Is there anyone you want me to call?"

Austin blinks, slowly at first, then rapidly as the tears threaten to spill. Not here. "Uh," he thinks, wiping his eyes. "No." He takes a deep breath. "No, I... It's fine."

"Okay well, Mr. Moon, you'll have to undergo a series of tests to determine the severity," the doctor says, scribbling on a sheet. "You can schedule an appointment with the lady at the front. But you'll need your ID and medical information."

Austin nods solemnly. He's left to get changed on his own, left to collect his thoughts. I have cancer, he thinks. How will I tell Ally? On his ride home he considers this. But the only scenarios he imagines end with her crying, and him comforting her. But he doesn't want her to cry. She'd doesn't deserve to cry ever. So he decides he won't tell her.

When he returns to their penthouse his cough alerts her to his presence. "Hey Austin," she greets. I'm making French toast, do you want some? They're not pancakes, but-"

"It's perfect," he assures her. "I love French toast." He decides that all he wants is to make her happy. And truth be told, he loves French toast. She just smiles and he joins her in the kitchen. Aesthetically, he doesn't look like he has cancer. But something feels different now. And he hopes she doesn't see it.

"What did the doctor say?" she asks between bites.

"About what?" he stalls.

"About your cough," she laughs.

"Oh, nothing," he lies. "He said it's probably just a cold. Sometimes coughs linger." He mentally pats himself on the back for his fib.

"Oh good," she says. "So I was thinking we should just watch some movies tonight. We can order a pizza, make some popcorn. Just relax."

"Sounds awesome," he grins. "So what's it gonna be? The Notebook?"

"I was kinda thinking we should watch Zaliens," she shrugs.

"Really?" He asks taken aback.

"Yeah," she nods. "I want to try to like them."

He winks. "You will."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

His cough goes away and he almost forgets about everything, until he gets a call from the doctor. "Just reminding you about your appointment tomorrow at three." He tells Ally he's going to see Dez. At the hospital, his diagnosis gets worse. "You have stage four lung cancer," he says.

"But I don't smoke," Austin says, upset.

"You don't have to. It can be caused by a number of things," he explains. "Unfortunately, it's one of most lethal cancers one can get."

Austin sighs. "So I'm going to die."

"Well no, there are specialized treatments and tests we do to try to counteract the disease, like radiation, chemotherapy, and-"

"Is it easier just to let me die?" Austin interrupts, his heart breaking with every syllable. "Easier on me, easier on my family. My girlfriend?"

The doctor sits on a chair across from him. "Mr. Moon, the whole process isn't easy. And I'm obligated to tell you that there are processes to help you. But to be honest with you, it's more of an expense and doesn't necessarily mean anything. You could still die."

"So I am. Going to die, I mean," he concludes.

"My suggestion? I'd say the best way is to let us do some more tests. Let us at least get you a rough estimate of your expectancy. Let us see if there's maybe something we're missing. Don't give up yet. But be prepared."

"It's stage four though," Austin replies. "I'm not a doctor but I know that's bad."

"It is."

That night, he's in the piano room, admiring the lights from the city and smiling. He stretches his fingers and takes a deep breath. He begins to play Can't Do Without You, his fingers gracefully dancing across the keys. He hoped this would lure her in to the room.

It does.

She enters the room curiously and he begins to sing, his face aglow and radiant. He loves to sing. Music was his life before he met Ally. And it still is. She just makes it better. When he finishes the song, she smiles, lifting his whole being. He feels weightless with her. "What's this?" she asks.

"Ally," he says, getting down on one knee. "I don't know how long we'll have together, but I want to spend it with you. All of it. There's no one that gets me like you, that believes in me like you. You're the only girl I've ever truly loved. You mean absolutely everything to me. And I need you to know that. I love you. So much. Will you marry me?"

She's trembling and silently crying, so she nods. And he stands up, wrapping his arms around her. She doesn't notice that his hugs are slightly weaker these days. But he notices. He pulls back and kisses her softly.

She grins, looking over him. "And by the way," she says. "I definitely love you more."

He wants to argue, to tell her that there's no possible way that she loves him more, because he seriously has never loved anyone the way he loves her. Because even when they met six years ago, and she didn't necessarily believe in him, he wanted nothing more than to be with this girl, even if at the time it was strictly platonic. Even before he liked her, something drew him to her. And that led to the best thing he's ever had in his life. He wants to tell her this, and that he's really going to miss her when he dies and goes wherever he goes. He wants to argue, to tell her that there's no possible way she loves him more, that he loves her more than absolutely anything, but he doesn't. He just smiles and nods, appeasing her. "Sure you do."

He's at home a few weeks later, looking out his window at the city, longing for the strength to go surfing or swimming. It's really nice out the sun beginning to set. He's really depressed though, because he wants to marry Ally and live happily ever after. But he can't.

"You have four months to live." These words echo through his mind as he recalls his visit to the doctor once again.

"What? Don't most of these movies give the guy like, six months or a year?" Austin asked, confused.

"This isn't a movie, Austin." They've come to be on a first name basis. "You have roughly four months. And that doesn't necessarily mean four. It could mean three, three and a half. Five. It's an estimate. Since you're refusing treatment, and you're carrying stage four lung cancer, it will hit you harder and hurt you quicker. It could happen tomorrow. It could happen in a few weeks."

He moves to the desk in their room. Ally is visiting her dad today, and wouldn't be back until the evening, which gives him plenty of time. He's going to write a will. He doesn't know how. But he's going to.

There are good days and bad days, but the bad ones... They're particularly bad.

Sometimes Austin doesn't have the strength to get out of bed. And when Ally starts to panic during one of these days, sometimes he wants to give in and tell her. But he doesn't. And somehow he worms his way out of her running to the drug store for antibiotics that wouldn't help.

He just tells her that when he was little he got really sick too. But the doctors said it'll pass in time. She's reluctant, scared even, but listens to him anyway.

The morning he started coughing up blood is the worst.

"Does this usually happen?" she asks frantically, helplessly as he stains tissue after tissue. She's trying hard not to cry, he can tell.

"Yes," he lies, tossing it all in the toilet beside their bedroom sink.

"Austin, I'm worried," she says, her voice jerking a few octaves higher. "I should call an ambulance."

She turns to leave, but he stops her. "No," he demands. "Ally, I'm fine. I promise."

"You're lying'" she shrieks. "You're not okay Austin! I'm calling for help." She's out of the bathroom in a flash and he hears her distantly calling 9-1-1. "Hello? Hi I need an ambulance here now, my fiancé is coughing blood and is really weak!" He can see her lip tremble even though he's in another room. His heart pangs as she says fiancé, because it reminds him of all he's leaving behind in this life.

He hangs his head as he grips the sink in agony. "Ally," he calls. She runs in.

"They're on their way, Austin," she says. "I'll start packing a bag for you."

"Ally," he repeats levelly.

"What?" she snaps, trying to keep the emotion from her voice.

"I love you," he says, staring at the porcelain of the counter.

"Don't you dare do that," she says. "Don't you dare act like you're leaving forever. You're going to the hospital."

"But I-"

"No!" The ambulance sounds outside then and he can tell she's relieved for the distraction. As people begin to pile in to the penthouse and to his side, he sees her stand back, sobbing.

They put him on a stretcher and carry him down the stairs. He suddenly feels guilty for living on the eighteenth floor. As they like in the stretcher, Ally climbs in at his side and takes his hand. A man comes over to ask questions as he checks Austin for any indicative signs for his bloody cough.

"Name?"

"Austin Moon," Austin and Ally say unison.

"Any current medical conditions?"

"No," Ally answers, while Austin says "stage four lung cancer." He clutches his stomach as pain radiates through his body.

Ally's face contorts in to one of utter disbelief and betrayal. "What? You don't have cancer," she says shaking her head.

He nods. "Yes I do," he tells her. She continues to shake, moving away slightly. "Ally, I have cancer, and I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want it to affect our relationship."

She's silent for a moment, as a tear runs down her cheek. "How long?" she whispers.

"Three months."

She looks like she's about to burst, like she was going to kill him before his disease does, but the man returns. "Ma'am, I'm awfully sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to move up front while we work on him." She gets up and leaves without so much as a goodbye to her fiancé. He sighs. He knew she'd react this way.

He wakes up to a quiet hum and bright lights fixated on the ceiling. He squints and covers his eyes, grunting a little. He inadvertently stirs Ally - who he didn't realize was there - awake. She jolts up, her hair situated all over her face. "Hi," he murmurs.

She looks at him, momentarily disoriented. Then she remembers. "Hi," she replies I'm an equal tone.

"Ally, I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he says. "I didn't want you to be scared for months. I didn't want you to cry or be scared. I wanted you to be happy."

"Is this why you proposed?" she chokes out.

"No," he says quickly. "No. I proposed because I wanted to be married to you before I died. It was always part of my plan. To live happily ever after with you." He takes her hand gently, careful not to pull off his bandages. "And I needed you to know that I loved you, with one last grand gesture."

"But we're not married," she whispers, crying softly. She toys with the hem of her shirt.

"No," he agrees, sighing. "I didn't think it would happen this early."

"Why are you resisting treatment?" she demands. "Why aren't you letting the doctors help you?"

"I don't want you left with the bills and expenses, I didn't want to put you through the emotional turmoil. Grieve for me when I die but then move on. I knew if I said it earlier it'd be too late."

"Austin, I won't ever love anyone again!" She pulls her hand away and buries her face in them.

"Baby," he whispers. "This isn't a movie. You'll meet someone. Maybe not for a few years. But you will. And you'll be happy with him. I hope he makes you happier than I ever did."

"Stop, Austin," she begs, sobbing. "Stop."

"No, I mean it. I won't like it, wherever I end up. Heaven, Hell, some other place. I'll be there, watching over you, forever. I'll be your guardian angel. I'm not telling you to forget me. If I was in your position I'd never forget you. But if there's a guy that you like, don't be afraid to love him."

She's bawling now. And not that pretty crying you see in movies. She's a wreck, makeup smudged, tears falling like rain. "I love you."

The doctors come in just then, and one speaks up. "Mr. Moon, there's nothing more we can do for you this far in to your disease. Are you prepared to let us pull the plug?"

"Yes," Austin answers, swallowing. He finally has tears in his eyes, and Ally only cries harder.

The doctor nods curtly, and his team prepare. Austin and Ally all the while just stare at each other, crying hysterically.

"I hate you," she whispers.

"No you don't," he says softly.

"I should." "5, 4, 3," the doctor says.

"2, 1." Austin squeezes Ally's hand harder. The machines around him turn off at once and it's suddenly quiet, dull, empty. The doctors file out of the room then silently. The last one turns on his heels and does a once over of the couple. "We'll give you guys some space." He leaves awkwardly.

Austin is quiet for a moment. He's rubbing her hand mindlessly while they wait for the inevitable. He coughs, a faint taste of blood in his throat and Ally winces. "I love you," he says. He can feel himself fading already.

"I love you more," she chokes, continuing their little game one last time.

"No I mean it, Ally. I love you so much, I always have. And I hate that I'm dying, because I want to be with you forever."

"You'll be okay," she says defiantly, though she knows better.

"No, Ally. I won't. I'm dying and-"

"Shut up Austin," she shouts. "Shut up. You can't die on me. I need you. I love you." She sobs. He kisses her hand and squeezes it.

"I love you more."

Then he's gone.

She stumbles in to their- ... Her penthouse. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her tear-stained cheeks are soaking wet, too. She trudges in to the piano room, the only place she feels safe and at peace when she's not with him. She sobs loudly and screams, fisting her hands through her hair. She sits against the wall on the floor and hugs her knees.

She notices a small box then atop her piano. She crawls to it and pulls it down, absolutely weak and exhausted.

She opens it hesitantly, sniffing and sobbing. Inside was a letter addressed to 'Ally', as well as a smaller box. She opens that first. She whimpers and feels like she's physically being torn apart as she shakily lifts the necklace from its place. Her fingers graze the embossed 'A&A' written in cursive on the pick necklace. She turns it over, and reads 'forever'. She also notices the little charms added, a microphone, a book, and a guitar. She lifts it around her neck and lets it hang.

She opens the card.

Dear Ally,

I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want to die. I wanted to grow up, get married, have kids, be a rockstar and take my family to Disney World. I wanted to tell you every day that I love you and think you're the most beautiful person I have ever met. And I want you to know that even when I'm gone, I'll still think it. And I'll still love you. And I want you to love me too, but I want you to love again. Because you're young, beautiful, smart, and amazing singer. There will be someone someday that you'll like. And I want you to love him. And I want you tell him how wonderful I thought you were and how if he doesn't treat you right I will haunt him to his grave. But for now, baby girl, please remember that you meant the world to me and and more than anything, I love you.

Austin.

She smiles painfully as the tears fall effortlessly. "I love you more."