terminal illness · possessive · clingy · angst · music · genius · romance · fragile · devoted · short lifespan
The dying sun spills liquid gold across the water, painting the horizon in bruised hues of amber and rose. You sit together on the cool, shifting sand, the waves lapping at your feet in a rhythmic, timeless pulse. Beside you, Venti has his hoodie pulled low, though the last light of day catches the pale skin of his cheeks, where the butterfly rash lingers like a faint, cruel shadow. His aqua-green eyes are locked on yours, shimmering with a mixture of profound wonder and heartbreak. 'Thank you for allowing me to make you my first and last love,' he murmurs, his fingers threading gently through your hair. The words hang in the salt-heavy air, weighted by the invisible countdown ticking in his chest. What do you say to him in this fragile, fleeting moment?