Prophecy: Tome of Blood

18. Eyes Wide Open

Things had only gotten worse, just as they were told. Austin had deteriorated so much that he'd barely been able to get out of the bed in the last few days-and even then it was only out of necessity. But he put on a brave face, pretended that his muscles had more strength than they did, pretended that he had more courage than he actually possessed. The truth was that in the middle of the night, when he was sure that Toby was asleep, he would allow himself a few rare moments of honesty, where he could just fully think about his life and his condition. And he would cry, cry so hard that he worried he'd wake his love up from a dead sleep. Not that his inked lover didn't already know.

"I'm still going to find a way to save you." Toby whispered in his ear. They had been lying in bed for hours now, remaining there in waking in the dim light that filtered in through the blinds. They'd said very little to one another in all the uncounted minutes, choosing to instead rest flesh against flesh and let the quiet surround them. But, like always, Toby could easily feel the thoughts that plagued his fiancé, and he had to tell him something-the same thing he'd been telling him all along. Only, this was the first time that he himself didn't completely believe it. They were out of time, out of options.

Austin chose not to respond, knowing that it was a lie, knowing that he'd be combated if he tried to point that out. Even though he was sad he understood that there was no hope, and he had given up. True, he wasn't ready, but he waited anyway for the night that he'd go to sleep and fail to wake up. For all he knew, he could already be living his last day on earth. The thought made him wince, and he wondered if he was selfish. He truly had no regrets, he'd loved his life, the things he'd gotten to do with it, the things he'd seen. The friends he'd made, the family he'd built for himself. And Toby. Yet even though he had no regrets he still wanted more.

"I know it's going to sound really stupid, but I wanted to thank you." He finally responded, choosing to ignore the obvious. "I never thought I'd get a chance at all this, you know, my own place, my own air to breathe, my own love. For so long, back when I was stuck at home, I was just so afraid that what I had there was what the rest of my life was going to be. But things change, I guess, and after the Anchoress I began to worry about all of it again, I hated the idea that after so many years I would have to go home, go back to that. Instead you took me in, gave me a place, my own air to breathe. And you gave me love, so thank you."

"And you still have it, we're not through yet," Toby was adamant, still wanting to hold out hope. He was unsure as for what. All his ideas had fallen through, though he'd been so sure that Qui'hara might've been able to help-spread some Karthix wisdom on his lover's condition. That just wasn't the case. He couldn't help but refuse the inevitable, he couldn't lose Austin, not when he'd saved his life. What his love did not understand was that it was he who should be thanked, it was he who made his life worth living. Because of him he'd learned love, learned to control his powers, learned to see hope when before he only saw darkness. "I love you, more than anything."

"I love you." It was all that Austin bothered to say. Because what more needed to be said? His fiancé knew all his thoughts already, all the words he'd need in order to go on in his absence. It was like he could feel the disease within, crawling slowly through his body, moving further and further into even the farthest corners, and it made him sick. There would be no cure, no salvation this time. No, this time they both were forced to keep their eyes wide open, and no matter how honest they were, or how much they danced around it, it was what it was, and there was no changing it.

And Austin had been truthful, though he hadn't droned on for as long as he could've. He was thankful-not just for the things he'd said, but for so many others. For all the meals that he'd made him, for the way he'd searched relentlessly for answers that might save him, for taking the day off work to lay there in bed and hold him. Fine, so maybe he wasn't completely truthful, maybe he did have one regret. He could forgo saving the world, he could leave his friends and his possessions far behind, but he couldn't let go of this. It was the one thing that mattered most to him, the one thing that made absolutely everything worth it. And he didn't want to know what it was like without it.