It wouldn't be a lie to say the words that escaped the lips of the man dressed smartly in the white doctor's coat terrified him. He felt his father tense beside him, his hand covering his lips as his blue eyes stared into the floor, shaking his head. How was this possible? Why did it have to happen this way? Mathias understood none of it but the simplest fact; he was going to die.

He felt wet warmth cascade down his cheeks, one droplet followed by another, then another. His chest felt heavy, heaving his whole being down. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath of air that tasted like antibacterial solutions. He felt numb. For the first time in his life, he felt cold, like he was dead already. He felt his father's voice quaver as he asked how much longer he had. After a silence in which he could hear his own heartbeat, which felt almost like an eternity, the doctor replied simply, his voice sympathetic. One month. That was all that was left.

But worse yet, was the moment he saw his four childhood friends stood in front of him, confused, some frightened, disheartened. He tried to laugh optimistically as he scanned each of their faces, yet it sounded unnaturally hollow. A wretched pain clawed at his chest as he looked at the despairing group before him; Tino, the shortest of the friends, tears swelling up in his violet eyes, his body shaking, hands hugging his own body tightly; Berwald, one of his large hands on Tino's shoulder, cyan eyes sweeping the ground in silence; Emil, his features painted in shock, violet eyes large, pale lips parted; and Lukas, his best friend who he valued more than the world itself, his body turned away, face hidden by a long fringe of fair hair, lips sealed tightly.

He was asked to think of a dying wish, though no ideas popped into his head. Not at first. He spent a lot of time at home, visited regularly by Tino, and Berwald, and even Emil, yet, not for all the time that he waited did Lukas come to visit him. He asked Emil about him, as the two were brothers, but the platinum blond haired boy just shook his head, biting his lower lip. He left wordlessly, leaving Mathias with an uneasy sense of dread sweeping over him, suffocating him.

His strength lessened day by day, like the flame of a candle, dwindling until nothing remained. No sign that the other boy would visit him appeared, yet he still waited, sitting on the edge of his bed by the window of his room, until there was no time left for waiting. The transition from his familiar room back home to the also all too familiar sickly green walls of the hospital room was a blur. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he lay in the pristine bed sheets, staring at the ceiling.

A knock came at the door. He turned in his bed, awed at the sight of the person before him. The boy held a bouquet of red clovers, navy eyes dull as he stood, transfixed, eyes connected to Mathias' azure. He said nothing as he sat down, placing the bouquet in the glass vase that stood on the bedside table. He looked so graceful as he arranged the flowers, his nimble hands working diligently.

"You remembered which were my favourite," Mathias commented, smiling as he watched the other teenager flinch at the sound of his voice. Lukas nodded, eyes focused on the flowers rather than on the vulnerable blond lying beside him. He sighed contently. He could almost feel his life slipping away from him, and yet he had never felt more at ease.

"I'm going to die soon," he stated, looking at the white ceiling of the ward. He could feel the other's dark eyes on him as he spoke. "At the age of 18. It scares me, Lukas." He looked at him then, noticing the boy's face was stained by trails left behind by tears. He reached out to wipe them away, but his hand was stopped, Lukas' hands gripping firmly to his own. He could feel him shaking, his breath catching in his throat. This was the first time Mathias had seen his friend in this state; his friend who often spoke little, who shied away, who glared at him whenever he did something worthy of disapproval, who hid his emotions behind a monotonous mask, and yet stuck with him through all these years. The facade had disintegrated, leaving behind a small, scared child clinging onto his hand like it was his own lifeline.

He looked him over again. His features were softer than usual, eyes reddened, pale skin flushed, brows pulled together in a frown, hair falling over the right side of his face asymmetrically. He was so beautiful, even when he was crying. So breathtakingly beautiful. That was the moment in which he realised how much Lukas needed him, seeing him there, sitting broken by his side, and how he needed him too. He thought of all the times they spent together – as children, playing in the fields beyond the village in which they grew up together, all the delightful memories they had created together through the years. Without him, he wouldn't have lived the life he had, and wouldn't have become who he was, with all this wonder filling his mind. He was always there, and he liked that more than anything. No, he loved it. He loved this man more than life itself.

Because he was his life.

He reached out his free hand, stroking the other's cheek soothingly, cerulean eyes bright, affectionate.

"I never did find a dying wish," he admitted, his voice a whisper, "But maybe now I have." He sat up, leaning as close as he could without falling, enough for Lukas to realise what he wanted him to do. His pale lips connected to his own, soft. Lukas looped his arms around his neck, threading his fingers through Mathias' messy, blond locks. He pulled away, only to be pulled back into an embrace, tears still escaping from his indigo eyes as he burrowed his face carefully into Mathias' chest, who rested his chin on top of the other's head, drawing circles on his back, whispering words of comfort.

Lukas stayed by his side the whole night, inconsolable tears streaming down the sides of his face, as he held Mathias' hand, and soon falling asleep with his head resting against the mattress, lulled by his other's words into a restless sleep. Even after he had fallen asleep, Mathias continued to stroke his head of golden locks, until he didn't have the energy to carry on.

When Lukas awoke, disorientated, he felt his whole life collapse before him; because there in front of him lay the most important person in his life, still, cold, blue eyes that held the sky glazed over, his lips remaining in the smile which he always wore.

I am so sorry. Please tell me what you thought I would appreciate it greatly :')