Oh boy, another short story

Hope you like it!

"Four weeks."

The words came out as a quiet little whisper, so quiet that Miriam almost couldn't hear them over the steady hum of the fans in the diner. She turned her attention away from the cup of tea resting on the table in front of her, setting down her phone and bringing her eyes to meet the person across from her. He didn't return the favor, shaggy blonde hair covering his face, gaze firmly fixed on the coffee cupped carefully in his hands. There was a stretch of silence as the woman waited for her companion to continue, the sound of cars meandering past muffled behind the windows of the restaurant, empty besides the two customers and a single worker absentmindedly wiping down the counters. When he didn't continue, Miriam tilted her head, eyebrows knitted together in a mix of worry and confusion. It had been... a while since Matthew had acted like this.

"Four weeks? What's that supposed to mean." She tried to keep her tone light, not wanting to contribute to the uncomfortably tense atmosphere that had settled over the pair, and took a sip of her drink, the pleasantly warm sensation against her tongue fighting off the chilly air. Their original conversation had died down a while ago, and Miriam was about to propose they leave when Matthew had spoken. It had been a comfortable evening between friends, having known each other since the beginning of high school, but it was time it ended before sleep escaped them entirely. Matthew raised his head slightly, and Miriam caught sight of the melancholic expression on his face, but he still didn't meet her eyes.

"I..." He paused, seeming to carefully consider what he wanted to say, "I have four weeks left."

The world stopped.

The sounds of the diner simply ceased, the earth coming to a momentous halt under Miriam's feet. These words settled onto her skin with deceiving gentleness, sending a wave of ice through her veins as any response she might've had lodged in her throat. Suddenly the brunette woman found herself very small amongst a sea of the diner's checkered tiles, the table in front of her the only anchor. The sounds of the sleeping city outside went quiet, any awareness of the third person in the building fading away, her entire focus now on her friend. Her mind floundered for a prolonged second, before, with great effort, she managed to force her mouth open, "H-How long?"

Her voice was strangled, cracking on the last syllable, betraying her struggle to form a simple sentence. The question was vague, but Matthew seemed to understand, offering his cup a smile that dared to be almost sheepish.

"Six months ago."

Miriam's eyes widened, and she felt a flash of anger burn hot in her chest. Six months. He had known for six months and he hadn't told her, "Why?'

Matthew grimaced.

"I'm sorry, but I... I didn't want to ruin the time I had left," He finally looked Miriam in the eye, hands coming to rest in his lap, twisting his fingers absentmindedly, "I knew that, if I told you, all you'd do is worry, you know?" Matthew gave a half hearted shrug, looking away again, "I wanted to hang out and, and be happy, not focus on the cut off date. It's super selfish, and I'm sorry, but I just..." He trailed off, looking out the window. The man seemed to be shrinking into himself, hands working vigorously at his fingernails, and suddenly Miriam's anger was accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of guilt, the joyful red of the diner's booths almost mocking.

She would've been lying if she said she wasn't shocked, but at the same time, this was something the young woman should have seen coming. The evidence of his sickness was written in stark bold all over his body: The odd tint of yellow that had begun to seep into his complexion, the way his cheekbones had begun to subtly cave inward, his thinning frame and the ever present dark circles under his once bright eyes, now dull and tired. They had both known how serious his condition was, but this... Miriam felt numb.