I would like to thank my lovely and awesome sister for betaing my story. I hope you like the changes.

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What would you do if you had one week left before you died?

Shuichi recalled the question. The question was full of possibilities when he'd first heard it, but now it was full of options. Options. Ha! What was the difference between possibilities and options anyway? Possibilities were merely in his mind. Options were decision that he had to make. That was the difference. At least, it was in Shuichi's mind.

These were the thoughts running through his head when he went home that night. Did he even want anyone to know? Did he even want to live? What was this giddy sensation? Why was he happy that he was dying?

He didn't even mutter his infamous, "I'm home," when he stepped through the door. Instead, as he sat on the couch, leaving the door wide open, his shoes still on and feet on the table, his head leaning against the back of the couch, he murmured, "A tumor." He smirked and chuckled. His chuckle grew to hysterical laughter, and he found himself rolling on the couch, clutching his sides while his laugh sounded through the house. Was that his laugh or the laugh of a maniac that was happily giddy about dying?

"Brat, what are you laughing at?" Yuki asked irritably. He had entered from his office. He had decided to investigate when he had heard the door open but not close.

Shuichi took a deep breath and whispered, "It's not a tumor!" in his best Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation while winded.

Yuki gave him a weird look and raised an eyebrow, "You're laughing at old movie quotes?" Shuichi grinned up at his lover and slumped against the couch. His behavior confused Yuki. "You left the door open and your shoes are on," Yuki commented, "Going out?" The words made Shuichi's smile fall off his face. Maybe he wanted to run away in his last hours. He always did hate the phrase 'death bed.' Then again, if he was having sex while he died, he wouldn't mind the phrase so much…

"If you had one week left to live," Shuichi asked, "would you leave?"

Yuki spat, "What are you spewing out of your hole now?"

Shuichi grinned, "Nothing dear." Yuki gave him a disgusted look for the endearment. Before he could turn away Shuichi asked, "Would you mind doing something for me?" Yuki walked over to the door and closed it before turning and raising an eyebrow at Shuichi. Glad he had his lover's attention, he asked, "Fuck me."

Yuki rolled his eyes. "You're worse than a rabbit."

Shuichi shrugged. "What can I say? It's what I want and I want it now. Alas, two days from now I might not want sex." He almost grimaced at the unintentional reminder. Two days from now, he'd be dead… or something close to it.

"You're being weird again," Yuki stated. "What is it this time?" Shuichi frowned. This wasn't going the way he wanted it to. Trying to change the direction of the conversation, he pulled off his shoes and chucked them at Yuki; careful to purposely miss the gorgeous author. Yuki, not bothering to move, raised both eyebrows questioningly.

Shuichi sighed, "Eh. You're right. I don't want to fuck right now. Oh, what to do? What to do?" Inside his mind was in turmoil. What was the best way to go? In his lover's arms, blinded by an orgasm? Just basking in Yuki's presence? How would Yuki react if he told him what was going to happen in two days? How would he react when Shuichi died? Despite his inner chaos, his exterior was calm.

Just as Yuki was about to head back into his office Shuichi groaned dramatically. "Oh, I don't know! What should I doooo? Yuukiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" The question threw him off guard. Shuichi never asked for his opinion. The brat was too selfish to think of anyone else when he did things.

"Now I know something happened," he stared at his pink-haired brat, "What is it?" Shuichi frowned, his head now hanging off the edge of the couch, looking at the blond upside down.

"Maybe singing in front of all my fans? Nah, too public. Yukiii, I can't decide."

Yuki narrowed his eyes, "Tell me what's going on or I'll-."

"Should I tell?" Shuichi whispered, his eyes full of sorrow. "It's my decision after all." He bit his lip and closed his eyes, imagining what dying felt like. "Do you think I have a soul?" Shuichi asked suddenly, his eyes popping open.

Yuki openly stared at the singer before answering. Taken off gaurd by the strange conversation he answered uncharacteristically. "You have more soul than anyone I know of. And now you will tell me why you are acting strange."

Shuichi shook his head, "No. I mean a spirit. Like, do you think there's an afterlife?" Yuki shrugged, not sure how to answer. He couldn't crush his uke's dream of going to heaven. He was therefore shocked when Shuichi sighed, "Yeah, I don't think so either." Their gazes caught and Shuichi smiled at him.

"Who died?" Yuki asked at a length. The question made Shuichi fall off the couch. Who died? He thought someone died? "Nevermind, you're too chipper for someone to have just died. What happened, brat?" The remark sank in his brain. Chipper? Was it appropriate to be cheerful now? Realization settled in.

He was going to be dead. Gone. Forever. In two days. He broke down right then and there. All the tears that should have spilled on his way home were now streaming down his face. He didn't sob or scream, just... cried.

He was leaving so many people behind. He loved life and living and feeling. He was so happy… wasn't it appropriate that Shuichi was happy now? Shuichi was always happy. Yet, as he sat and stared at the one thing he never wanted to let go of, he realized part of being Shuichi was being emotional, and overdramatic. He felt that, this time, that for the first time, he wasn't blowing things out of proportion. It was real.

Pain roiled in his chest. It slapped at his face like icy ocean waves.

Yuki watched the singer's face crumple in pain as he slid off the couch. He watched in one long moment as Shuichi began to cry. What made this different from the usual drama his lover always seemed to suffer from was how Shuichi wasn't blubbering or wailing in his usual manner. He was just, crying.

"Shuichi?" Yuki asked hesitantly. The question snapped Shuichi out of his daze. The pink-haired brat wiped his eyes and smiled shakily.

"I'm alright, Yuki. Go back to work. I need some… some time to think about this."

All hesitance left at those words. Straightening Yuki stood directly in front of his brat and stared coldly down at Shuichi. "Neither of us are leaving until I know exactly what brought on this strange behavior."

"Please, Yuki,." Shuichi whispered sounding broken. He closed his eyes. "I want… What do I want?"

"I don't know, but I want you to tell me what's going on and you're going to tell me now." Yuki pressed.

Shuichi nodded, "You would want to know." His eyebrows furrowed when he thought about everything he had just asked his lover. Should I tell? Do you think I have a soul? What if you had one week… Except it was two days, not one week. All he knew was he wanted one thing before he died. Nothing else mattered.

"Tell me everything," Shuichi demanded, suddenly standing and looking directly at Yuki, "If you tell me, I'll tell you. I want you to tell me, honestly, exactly how you feel about me, exactly how…" his voice faltered and he continued, "Just everything. Then I'll tell you what's wrong."

Yuki raised a brow, "So it's not a good thing. This isn't worth my every secret-."

"It is," Shuichi insisted, completely serious. "Its worth…" he paused. It was always a matter of opinion. To Shuichi it was a matter of life and death; to Yuki, it might not. "Tell me," Shuichi pressed, now determined to get him to tell the truth, "Say it. Say everything you've ever wanted to say to me. Don't hold back. Please." At this point he was almost begging, "Please."

Yuki sighed as he retreated to his office, his previous determination to get to the bottom of Shuichi's strange behavior forgotten in face of this seemingly unreasonable demand. Before he closed the door, he stopped, hearing Shuichi ask, "So that's it then? You don't have any emotions. Not annoyance or anger or – God forbid – love? You don't hate me? You don't wish I'd jump off a cl-" he paused as his voice choked. He quickly gathered up his courage before continuing "Cliff. Because, you know, I will." Suddenly, he was making a promise. "No joke; I'll do anything you ask me to. I would kill," here he closed his eyes, "or bungee jump or take it up the ass or even run around the city naked. If you wanted, I'd smoke a cigarette. I'd get drunk off my a-."

"Shut up," Yuki growled, "That's what I want you to do. Just shut up." To his immense surprise Shuichi immediately went silent. He glanced back at him, surprised, even if he didn't show it on his face.

Shuichi cleared his throat, "Do you want me to tell you what's going on or do you want me to be quiet?"

"Be quiet," Yuki grated out, "Please." The light of determination left Shuichi's eyes. So that was it. Be quiet. The door to Yuki's office closed. This proved to be the most difficult task Shuichi had ever been given. He sat down on the couch, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Soon, he found himself twitching; wanting to sing, or listen to music, or anything. Almost undoubtedly, he was sure that no matter what he did to alleviate his jitters, he'd make noise and bother Yuki.

Instead of following out his urges, he lay down and stared up at the ceiling, contemplating. He didn't want to die, did he? Death was the end. Did he want this to end? He was happy. Was he, though? Did it make him happy to be ignored by the man he worshipped?

"It does," he realized out loud, "I'm addicted to being ignored, and all the while I'm craving attention." He turned so he was facing the back of the couch. He was happy then. What was happiness, anyway? He struggled with concepts in his mind. It was a feeling, granted. It was a feeling that made him smile. That was a good, simple description to him. But… what made him happy, then? Being ignored didn't make him feel like smiling, so it didn't make him happy. However, it could not fall under any existing category in his head. Maybe his definition was wrong? But that unsettled so many conceptions in his mind…

He sat up, struck with the need to write. Write anything. Write a song, his thoughts, a short story, anything. He pulled a notebook and pen out of his pack and started to write. His pen scratched feverishly against his paper. Nothing could stop this train from chugging forward.

"What are you doing?" Shuichi looked up, startled, surprised to see Yuki staring down at him. He was dumbfounded for a moment, not sure why. Then again, with his unorganized, jumbled thoughts, it wasn't too difficult to become flabbergasted. Yuki had a five o'clock shadow and purple circles under his eyes. His hair was disheveled and a cigarette sat between his fingers. "It's late. What are you doing up?"

Shuichi answered, "Waiting for you." The response was a reflex, but it was true. That was what he was doing, why he sat down and stared up at the ceiling instead of leaving or calling Hiro. Still, his brain felt detached from his mouth, and his voice sounded far away.

Yuki glared at him, "Go to bed."

"Not without talking first," Shuichi insisted, standing up. Yuki blinked at Shuichi's tone. Shuichi was stubborn, yes, but firm? Stern? Never. Everything about him today was different, and it was disconcerting.

"Fine," Yuki agreed, "what did you want to say?"

Shuichi bit his lip before answering, "I want you to tell me."

Yuki rolled his eyes, "Not this again. I'm not telling you anything."

"I don't mind if you tell me you hate me," Shuichi insisted, "or that you wish I'd drop off the face of the Earth. As long as you're honest. That's all I want."

Yuki narrowed his eyes, "That's it?" Shuichi gulped.

"Well, that's all I get," he said carefully, "After that, I'm your slave. I'll do anything you ask; anything you want." He bit his lip nervously waiting, watching Yuki's calculating expression as he examined Shuichi's face.

"And all I have to do is tell you how I honestly feel?" Yuki asked at long last. Shuichi nodded. "How long does the slave thing last?"

Shuichi sighed, his eyes gaining a dark weight, "Two or three days, I guess."

Yuki looked him square in the eye and said, "I wish we never met." Seeing the surprise and hurt in Shuichi's expression, he quickly went on to explain, "Because I feel like I… I… I maim you, in a way." He ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I hurt you and that you'd be better off if you never met me."

He shook his head and sat down, placing his head in his hands, "No matter how annoying you get, I can't imagine my life without you anymore. When I heard the door open and you didn't say anything, I… I was worried, to be completely honest." He hated how open he was actually being. Why was he being honest anyway? He almost smirked; Shuichi as a slave was very tempting indeed. And for three days. Maybe it was worth it. No matter how much it was worth, though, the words were stuck in his throat. "I… I… Shuichi, I luh…"

"It's okay," Shuichi whispered. He looked up at his young lover and froze at the sight before him. His skin was paler than usual, and his eyes were closed, tears streaming down his cherubic face. The light behind his head did actually give the illusion of a halo. Shuichi took an unsteady breath, "I know. I love you, too."

Yuki grinned suddenly, "A slave, huh?"

Shuichi's eyes snapped open, "Wha? Oh, yeah." He gnawed on his lip again, but didn't say anything. Yuki pulled him onto the couch, smirking.

"You're going to listen to me, pup," he murmured in his ear, "and you'll love it." Shuichi shivered. He didn't doubt he'd enjoy what was coming next.

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They were lying in bed, silent save for their panting and pounding hearts. They were merely a mass of tangled limbs and sweaty flesh.

"Shuichi? You asleep?" Yuki murmured after a long period of quiet breathing. Shuichi shook his head. "What happened today? What happened to prompt forcing me into admitting what you already knew." Shuichi went still, his breath seemed to completely stop. Before Yuki could get worried, Shuichi exhaled loudly. Shuichi fumbled in the darkness; groping blindly for something. Yuki startled slightly when Shuichi finally found the object of his search, Yuki's hand. He squeezed it gently.

He licked his lips and squeezed his eyes shut even though the room was covered in darkness. "Remember the migranes I've been having? How nothing works? You told em to go to the doctors and get prescription strength." Yuki stilled in anticipation. He wasn't sure what to expect, but no matter what he never would have guessed the news Shuichi was about to share. Why was Shuichi bringing up a doctors visit from a week ago? Yuki wondered absently. His fingers were beginning to feel numb from lack of circulation, but he didn't care. The mumble that escaped Shuichi's lips was incoherent.

"Repeat that in a frequency normal humans are capable of hearing." Shuichi let go of his hand and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. He buried his face into the nape of Yuki's neck. Being so close, Yuki heard perfectly. Although he wished desperately that he had misheard.

"I have two, maybe three, days left to live," he whispered. The world iced over in that one moment. Suddenly, Yuki was cherishing the heartbeat against his own chest even more than before.

He choked on the syllable, "What?" Yuki's chest constricted as his mind raced with half finished thoughts and regrets. His neck was slowly getting wet, and the obvious clues clicked in. Do I have a soul? What would you do…? "Shuichi, two days?" He felt his lover's head nod in confirmation. His heart sank and shattered. How was this possible? "Is this a joke?" Yuki blurted out suddenly. He felt ridiculous for asking; of course he was serious. Before Shuichi could respond, he hugged the singer back and held tight. "Of course you have a soul."

Shuichi felt hollow as he replied in monotone, "Don't lie to me, Yuki. You don't believe in things like that." Yuki squeezed tighter in response. Shuichi went on, "I wish…" He sighed, "I wish there was a certainty that after this there was nothing else. To not exist, Yuki… Utopia."

"Now who's lying?" Yuki asked his voice thick and raspy.

Shuichi gulped, and whispered back, "I'm not. It would be peaceful. No. It merely… wouldn't be anything. There wouldn't need to be anything. I wouldn't want; I wouldn't even be. It's second best to living happily for the rest of my life with you." He took a deep breath, "I want to be cremated." The limbs around him stiffened.

"No," Yuki growled, "You're not going to be cremated, buried, or even rot. You're going to stay healthy and let me die of lung cancer. Then you can die."

Shuichi chuckled dryly, "Sorry, babe. My tumor won't wait for you."

Yuki clenched a fist, "A tumor?"

Shuichi hesitated, "Yes." A pause. "Yuki, you're shaking." Silence. "Yuki?"

"How," Yuki growled, "am I expected to live without you? How am I supposed to live through your death? I can let you leave; I can kick you out, but this… This means you'll be… gone forever. Unreachable. You won't even exist. What kind of world ...?"

Shuichi stroked his boyfriend's hair, "A sad one, but a healthy, sufferable one."

"No," Yuki insisted quietly, "It's impossible." Despite his denial, Shuichi was dying. Slowly it sunk in.

"How much time left?" Shuichi asked. Early morning light streamed in and they both lay in bed, enjoying each other's company. Yuki didn't know what to do or how to react. He merely did what Shuichi wanted to do, and Shuichi had no desire to do anything, so they sat doing nothing.

"You should know," Yuki answered quietly, "How do you feel?"

Shuichi smiled softly, "I'm dying on the inside. My soul is wilting."

Yuki chuckled morbidly, "You're so poetic." Shuichi chuckled with him. "So what do we do?" Shuichi quieted.

"Nothing," he answered. Silence filled the room. "Give me my pen and notebook." Yuki pulled them off the floor. He had already gotten up once to retrieve the items, and was told to put them off to the side shortly after. This time, Yuki read over Shuichi's shoulder as they spent the day in bed.

At one point, Shuichi turned to him, "Don't read this next part. I'll tell you when you can look again." The only sound in the room was the scratching of pen and paper. Yuki closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of his lover. Shuichi's breath. His occasional hum. Always, clean strokes of the pen. The flip of a page of paper. "You can look," Shuichi whispered. Yuki opened his eyes and looked at a blank page. Shuichi had turned the page so he couldn't read it.

Sighing, Yuki stood up, "I need to use the bathroom. Is there anything I can…?"

Shuichi smiled in response, "No." Yuki nodded and left to go answer natures call. It had been a day and a half since Shuichi had shattered Yuki's reality. When did he find out? He couldn't remember.

Shuichi could be dead right now and he was wasting time! Sometimes Yuki hated himself.

He got back into the bedroom in time to see Shuichi close his eyes and exhale. His own eyes widened and he ran forward.

"Shu!" he gasped, kneeling beside the bed. He reached for Shuichi's hand, and Shu cracked an eye open.

"Yes?" he asked quietly.

Yuki sighed, "God! I nearly had a heart attack! I thought… I thought you were…"

Shuichi rolled his eyes, "Hardly, Yuki." Then he smiled, "If I could find the energy to stand, I'd do a jig. It's wonderful that you care so much." He scowled, "I'm just disappointed it took my imminent death to make you care."

Yuki's eyes watered, not for the first time that day, and he squeezed Shuichi's hand, "It's all my fault, isn't it? I should have been nicer or-."

"No!" Shuichi interrupted, suddenly sitting up, "Don't Yuki. Everything is as it should be. If you were nicer to me before, then things would be different. Everything is perfect-."

"But you're dying!" Yuki shouted, standing up, "My world is shattered! I'm dying with you, Shuichi!" He collapsed back down to the floor by the bed. He felt useless.

Shuichi answered quietly, "You might not see it, but I do. You'll understand some day, Uesagi, how perfect this moment actually is." Yuki knelt beside Shuichi again, taking his hand, fear gripping his heart. Their gazes met, and Yuki's panic rose. Shuichi took a shuddering breath.

"No, Shu, don't go," Yuki pleaded, tears streaming from his eyes, "Not yet!"

Shuichi smiled vaguely, "Why not now, when everything is," he inhaled, "perfect? If not now, then when?" Yuki couldn't look away from Shuichi's beautiful face. It retained its beauty even in death- and suddenly Yuki was glad and horrified all at once how he would never see that face grow old.

"Shuichi," he whispered, "I… I can't let you go."

Shuichi held out an envelope, "You have no choice." Yuki took it, refusing to believe Shuichi was dying. Shuichi, on the other hand, smiled. There was nothing to say. He took one last shuddering breath and his eyes glazed over. Yuki just sat there. He barely noticed the hand in his grow cold. He couldn't move. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything was over. The sun had gone and the moon refused to rise.

A thought entered the stillness of Yuki's mind. With a shaking hand Yuki reached for the envelope. As he read a sad smile appeared.

Yuki,

This is so awkward because you're sitting right next to me, but you won't leave… Anyway, tell Hiro not to miss me. I'm in a better place. He always told me that when my cat died when I was four. Heh, I'm really pathetic, huh? And I already picked out a replacement singer for Bad Luck. He's a talented kid; trust me. Tohma knows I'll be gone by Monday.

Whatever you do, Yuki, I support your decision. Even if it's drastic. I don't know if I'd be able to live without you, either. In fact, I'm positive I wouldn't be able to. Please cremate my body.

I know I won't go to heaven because I put my heart and soul in my music… and in you. I want you to be happy, Yuki. I won't be able to grow old with you, and so many chances and so much happiness could have filled the rest of our lives. In the long run, it doesn't matter, does it? It was bound to happen some day- why not today?

Shuichi Shindou

P.S. I love you like crazy.

Yuki pulled his cell phone out and listened to it ring. Who was he calling? Why? What was the point?

"Hello?" Hiro answered cautiously; he recognized Yuki's number.

Yuki sniffed, "He told me to tell you… to tell you…"

"What's wrong?" Hiro asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Nothing," Yuki whispered, a smile slowly creeping on his wet face, "Everything is perfect. Shuichi told me to tell you not to miss him; he's in a better place now."

Hiro sounded alarmed, "Hold on. Wait for me- I'll be right over!" Yuki chuckled lowly as he shut the phone. Drastic measures indeed. Shuichi's last words rang through his head: You have no choice.

Hiro opened the door to the apartment. An eerie silence greeted him.

"Hello?" he asked quietly, afraid to break the silence. He turned the light on. Not spotting anything immediately he moved to the next room. Cautiously, he checked out the entire house. Something smelled and he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Finally, he turned on the bedroom light and he turned green. Shuichi lay on the bed, eyes closed, limp. He wasn't even breathing. Beside him on the bed, one arm wrapped around Shuichi, lay Yuki. On the ground near his other hand was a gun. He had a visible hole in his temple still seeping blood. There was a pool of blood on the pillow, and even more blood spattered the wall. Hiro swallowed his vomit. How could one person have so much blood?

He forced himself to step forward and pick up the two notes on the nightstand. The first was Shuichi's. The second was Yuki's.

To whoever finds this note (and I bet it's Hiro)

If you found this note it means I killed myself. I couldn't live without him. Ask Seguchi. I was bound to die some day- why not now, and avoid suffering? I'm coming, Shu.

Yuki Shindou

Hiro stared at the name. Yuki had mixed his the two most important names in his life to make it his own before he died. Hiro collapsed to the floor and gave into the urge to vomit.