"If tomorrow never comes, I think it'd be okay with me;

To forever, forever, keep that destiny buried."

ORANGE - TOHMA (OCTAVIA VER.)

Cecil looked towards Abel. His eyes were open, but unfocused. As always, he caressed the sides of the angel's face. He couldn't fathom how anyone would think their existence is anything other than a curse. Not on anyone else, but on themselves. When Abel was like this, it was uncertain if he was able to feel or be aware of anything, and, aside from the slow and infrequent blinking of his eyes, he never moved or responded to any stimuli.

As painful as his situation was, he never spent too much time in this state, but it seemed that today he hasn't been able to stay completely awake for long. Was it painful? Was he actually aware of everything and just couldn't move? He hoped none of these were true and that maybe his conscience wandered somewhere towards happier memories. But of course, he could never be certain.

At this point, it had already been eight months since that cursed first feather fell, signaling the start of his inescapable, torturous death. All things considered, at least Abel was on the lucky end of the spectrum regarding the situation. The cut-off age for the start of the morifere process was around 32 years of age, and Abel was at least able to reach 30. Of couse it could be worse, it could have started in his early twenties. Or he could have died in that damn cult without ever feeling a single shred of happiness.

But he couldn't help but think how unfair it was. Most of Abel's life was spent locked up from the world and being tortured. Can you really consider that living? In the end, the amount of years he had actually, properly lived, were less than 10.

If only he was never born as an angel, but instead were a regular human, he would probably be spared most of his suffering, wouldn't he? For a moment, he had a silly thought, wondering what color would Abel's hair be, if it wasn't the white all angels possessed. Would he have had a rebellious teen phase, or would he just be as gentle as easygoing as now? He pondered if, with his love of the sky and the stars, would he have maybe pursued some career related to that? These daydreams were fruitless, but they were able to at least distract him from the horrible reality.

Sure, Cecil and him were only able to meet precisely due to the fact that Abel was born as an angel after all, but, as much as he treasured their relationship, he would sacrifice it if it meant the other could live a regular, long life. Not that it mattered, it wasn't a choice he actually could make.

Abel's body temperature had been dropping since morning, but he was able to somewhat circumvent the situation by placing heavy blankets over him. However he felt that it was futile, as he was again, extremely cold. If he couldn't see the up-and-down movement of his chest everytime he took a shallow, ragged breath, then he would almost believe his husband was already gone.

Finally, Abel looked at him, his conscience slowly coming back.

"Hey Abby..."

He said, the hand still on his face. As always, he responded with a weak smile, and just like always, it felt like a stab to the heart.

As if angels weren't ill-fated enough with their extremely low life-expectancy and living in a society that flip-flopped between adoring, demonizing and fetichizing them, they also weren't granted the use of words. Sure, they could understand everything perfectly, but could never actually say anything. Abel was able to answer simple yes and no questions and even say things with very rudimentary gestures. Speaking at all or anything more complex like, for example, actual sign language, was impossible. So it wasn't as simple as having no voice. Even if they tried to "cheat" the system by having him pick from multiple choices, the moment it got too detailed he just stopped being able to do it.

After years of this, they have gotten quite good at communicating, Amanda, his sister, sometimes even commented on how he sometimes seemed to just read Abel's mind. But everything has its limits and he knew that there are thoughts and words Abel would never be able to fully convey, isolating him in his own head.

Abel started pulling slightly against his hand and gazing at the bathroom door and back at Cecil.

"You need to go to the bathroom?"

He responded with a small sigh. That was his way of saying 'yes' these days. If he wanted to say 'no', he would just be silent.

"Are you sure you want to get up? You seem weaker than usual today."

He knew Abel hated going lying down, but he was scared of hurting him further by trying to take him to the bathroom. Of course, Abel wasn't budging and he had to pick between his comfort or his safety.

Getting him out of bed was a struggle. Although he was already small and had already lost a bunch of weight, he was still a whole person and Cecil was not exactly strong, and was only able to carry him because Abel still had some strength to support himself a little, but today he was completely limp.

He usually let him lay against the sink while sitting down to give him some privacy but considering he wasn't even able to support his own head this time, he stayed there to keep him from falling. Abel was clutching his stomach, seemingly in pain and wondered if it was hurting due to what he was doing or if it was something else entirely. Maybe he was just nauseated.

Getting him back to the bed was another struggle but eventually he succeeded. He tucked Abel, back in bed, noticing that his eyes had gone blank again. He placed a kiss on his forehead and quickly went back to flush the toilet.

Cecil froze.

He was digesting blood.

Fuck.

How didn't he notice it earlier?? The drop in temperature, lack of strength, his conscience fading and coming back repeatedly. He ran back to Abel, who still had the unfocused eyes from before. He lightly lifted his shirt and surely, his abdomen was also bruised.

He screamed for Amanda to come and told her they had to take Abel to a hospital, quickly. Neither of them knew exactly how, but they were able to take him down the stairs and into the car.

"Shouldn't we have called an ambulance?"

"He might be dead before it arrived, just help me, please, I...don't want to risk it."

Cecil held Abel in place in the back car seat, while Amanda drove. He felt like shit for not noticing that those weren't just morifere symptoms but now he had no time to feel sorry for himself. One of the few things he was proud about was his ability to bury everything else and remain calm in there situations. Of course, that also meant that he broke down twice as hard later, but he tended to ignore this part.

Amanda parked horribly, and, in a rush to get Abel inside, both left the car, Cecil struggling to carry him again.

"Wait here, i'll run inside and call help"

Just as she started running towards the hospital,  Abel started vomiting blood. It was a lot of it and it went all over him and Cecil.

His sister's voice.

The steps of people coming closer.

The passing cars on the street.

It all sounded extremely distant.

He fell to his knees, somehow still holding Abel on his arms, clutching his head on his chest, completely paralyzed. He saw Amanda's face but it no longer looked like his sister's. He couldn't make out what she was saying. It no longer registered in his head that his arms and shirt were dark with a mix of blood and bile.

Didn't he see shit like this every day at work? He was able to remain focused all the time no matter that, but the sight of a completely limp, barely conscious Abel drenched in blood broke something inside of him. Perhaps that was the moment that the reality of his unavoidable death finally settled in. Maybe it was the fact that he finally realized how frail he was already and that losing him at that moment was already a possibility. He no longer had a month, a week or even a day to say goodbye.

Not only that, but caring for Abel, as much as he didn't want to admit it, took a huge toll on him. The only reason he had been able to do it was through sheer denial. That moment ripped the little illusion he had built to protect himself to shreds and opened the wound that was the reality of the situation they were both in. He saw Abel slip through his hands like sand and he was powerless to stop it.

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur. His sister arrived at some point and stayed by his side but he couldn't recall any of her words.

When he was told that Abel's stomach was completely destroyed from the inside and would have to be surgically removed, he barely even processed the information. He apparently had to sign paper authorizing the surgery, but he had no memory of doing so. It was just useless bureaucracy anyway. By law, an angel's lifes must always be saved, even if it was useless and the falling of their feather would kill them eventually anyway. Their family or themselves could even refuse but it wouldn't mean anything. So, his signature or not, the surgery would happen. The only real reason for it was so, in case Abel died before the end of his morifere for any reason that could be interpreted as neglect, then it could be used as evidence to clear his name a bit.

"It's an aggressive surgery and his body is already weak, he might not make it."

The surgeon said, almost apologetically. She was one of his colleagues, they worked together through many shifts, although right now he couldn't even recall her name.

"Good, I hope he doesn't."

The words came out of Cecil's mouth before they even reached his brain. Someone gasped loudly. Maybe it was his sister, maybe the doctor or one of the nurses. It didn't matter though, and soon enough he was outside, watching the cars go by.

He kept having thoughts about just walking into traffic, hopefully dying in the process. The only reason stopping him was Amanda's hand on his shoulder.

Cecil wasn't sure when she arrived, but she was there regardless.

"...I should have let him die at home."

He thought Amanda would slap him or at least say something but she remained silent.

"I'm tired of this senseless struggle. What is the point anyway? If we lived somewhere civilized we would have put him out of his misery long ago."

Angry tears and sobs were mixed with his words, it made it a bit hard to fully understand what he was saying.

"Don't fucking try to lecture me about the 'natural cycle' or how 'his soul must leave his body slowly'. He never shared any of these beliefs and neither did I since I was a child, but because some assholes in power decided that they must 'protect angels' at all costs now he has to suffer a painful death!! And for what?? So they can pat themselves on the back about how much they do to protect angels? Screw them!"

He fell to his knees, grasping his own hair on the sides of his face with force. Everything he had bottled up just came up all at once.

"And to make it matters worse, my own sister, who swore to respect that we had different beliefs keeps trying to gaslight both of us into thinking this is good and necessary. Tell me, Amanda, have you looked at him lately? No, not just that, but have you actually seen him? Not as a fucking celestial, sacred being, or wathever crap you want to believe. Have you ever even thought of him as an actual person? Someone with his own thoughts, who is just as failed as you and I, who suffers and feels pain? Do you think for any moment that he's just...'ok' with this?

How many times do you think I've walked to his bed to find the infusion from his PICC line disconnected? I wished he had enough strength to rip the whole thing from his veins violently enough and maybe finally bleed to death. Every time I had to put it back I felt like a piece of shit for not allowing to die in peace on his own terms. But no, instead I have to actively monitor him all the time while the IV is going, because if I so much as risk not to, he might die due to malnorishment, since he can't fucking eat anyway.

And if he did die, on who do you think the blame would fall on, Amanda? Because god forbid an angel dies before all his fucking feathers fall, we have to needlessly further violate their body with a useless necropsy to find a damn culprit.

Tell me, do you think you will ever have to hold your wife's neck, trying to decide if you should put her out of her misery just to be seen by everyone as a murderer and ruin your life in the process or give up and feel like a selfish asshole for choosing youself and allowing her to suffer for who knows how long? Because I had to look at Abel's face while clutching his neck, crying. And you know what? I almost did it. I know he wanted me to. But when I applied the smallest amount of pressure, he grabbed my hands softly. He didn't pull it away or anything, not because he didn't want to die, but because he didn't want me to do something I would regret.

I knew he didn't actually want to go on, but I was selfish and couldn't even do it... I... I should have killed him then."

He no longer spoke any coherent words, past this point it was just heavy, messy sobbing. Amanda tried to keep herself together and hugged him.

"I guess I haven't been a good sister have I?"

She was also crying at this point.

"I'm sorry for breaking my promise, I said you could count on me and yet..."

Cecil wanted to say something but it seemed he lost all ability to speak, all he could do was sob.

"But please...Don't throw your life away like that. I'm sure Abel would never hold a grudge because of this."

He knew he wouldn't, and that's why it hurt even more. He also knew he had been needlessly harsh with his sister. He knew she was trying, and in the end, they just fundamentally had different beliefs, so it was hard for one to console the other. It was funny, in a way. Not only were they identical twins, but were also raised in the exact same way, in the same house, by the same parents. How did they turn out so different?

He couldn't stay angry at her for long anyway, and Cecil knew in his heart that she would quickly forgive him as well.

"Tell me, does it cross your mind to press rewind and visit when we met?"

ORANGE - TOHMA (OCTAVIA VER.)