Cover by siimplyisaac Words. Everyone takes them for granted, using them non-stop, screaming them, laughing them, blurting them. But what about when they're dying? Are they strong enough to scream out their last words? To laugh out their final sentence? To blurt out the last thing people will remember of them? Your dying words mean everything. It's what people remember you saying last and it shouldn't be something stupid which if you get used to saying stupid things, I believe you won't have any control of what you say when you die. So words are valuable, and I, James Hunter, won't waste them. Of course I'll speak when it's important but I don't think I'll speak for anything other than that. But I'm dying and I don't want to be, but the choice isn't mine to make. My body- my heart has made up its mind, I'm going to die, I just have to accepting it. And if I'm going to die, I want to be remembered, I want them to visible see my face, feel my touch and hear my voice from my final hours of living. I want my family to know everything I've been holding in and I want my friends to remember me as strong. So what I'm going to die? Everyone does at one point. I'll just die sooner than expected and medication won't do anything to stop it, only postpone it and I don't want it postponed, when I'm ready... I'm ready and I want my heart to be on the same page as I am.

He was never meant to be chosen. Only used. Only needed. Only endured. Bound to a cold Sentinel who treated their bond as duty, Elior learned how to stay quiet, how to survive love without being seen. For years, distance was safer than hope-until silence began to break, and control turned into fear of loss. This is a story about a bond that was real long before it was protected, about love learned too late and chosen anyway. Slow-burn. Power imbalance. Emotional intimacy. A complete Sentinel × Guide romance about staying-not out of duty, but because you're finally wanted. Status: Complete.