Roman looked at the letter. He almost screamed.

It had been over a year.

Over a year since the worst day of his life.

Over a year since his life pretty much ended.

Over a year since Virgil died.

It was a seizure.

He was at work one day, and he got a call, saying that Virgil had passed out on the floor, and they were taking him to Urgent Care.

Roman yelled a quick "Got to go!" at his boss and ran for his car.

He drove as fast as he could.

When he got there, they wouldn't let him in.

He wasn't family.

He begged and pleaded, but the rules were the rules.

An hour later, Virgil was allowed visitors.

He'd had a seizure, the doctor said.

It wasn't that bad, and he was going to be ok.

Virgil just smiled at him for being so worried.

Virgil had to stay another day at the hospital, but they let him out after that.

When they got home, it was like nothing had ever happened, and Roman was fine with that.

A few weeks later, a second one happened.

It was a bit more serious but still mild.

Another day in the hospital, and then life continued like normal.

Another few weeks passed, and Virgil had a third one.

It was his last one, and he died.

Roman was heartbroken.

He shut himself in his room, stopped eating and sleeping, and refused to leave.

Patton kept trying to reach him, but eventually slowed.

Even he knew a lost cause.

Roman stayed in his head most of the time, reliving all of the best memories.

He began to think of a better future, one where they grew old together with a few kids.

That became his chosen reality, and he spent all of his time there.

Patton stopped coming by, and Roman became a shell of the person he used to be.

He was devastated, and living hurt too much.

He stayed in a haze like this, unaware of the passage of time and the outside world.

Until a letter appeared in front of him.

He suddenly snapped back and realized what had happened.

He looked at the envelope.

Plain white, no seal or sticker. Pretty nondescript.

He opened it with his thumb, ignoring how long his nails had gotten.

Inside was a simple piece of notebook paper.

It reminded him of when he and Virgil used to pass notes, and he cried.

When he could see clearly he unfolded the paper.

It was covered in simple pencil writing, but it broke Roman's heart anew.

It was Virgil's handwriting.

And Virgil was dead.

Blinking the tears out of his eyes, he began to read.

June 3,

They told me I was going to die in the next year today.

They said that my brain was firing wrong.

I told them not to tell Roman.

I'm not sure he could survive knowing that I'm dying and he can't save me.

I don't want him to feel as helpless as I do.

I just wish I could... live for him.

I know that sounds bad, and I should live for myself, but without Roman, there's no me to live for.

He's everything to me. Unfortunately, I'm everything to him, too.

What'll happen when I'm gone?

Will he be ok?

I hope so.

But this is Roman.

He's emotional, over the top, and dramatic.

He's also sweet, caring, and just amazing, inside and out.

I wish I could believe in his strength, in his ability to live without me, but... he feels things deeply, and he'll hate this.

So I'm not going to tell him. I know it's wrong, I know it's not smart, but I want our last time together to be happy, to be focused on the good.

I love him more than anything, and I just want him to be happy.

I love him.

I'm sorry, Roman.

I'm sorry I never told you.

I just... wanted us to last. Even though I'm dying, and you'll never read this, I love you.

More than life, more than death, more than anything.

I had no intention of going away from you. But how could I stop?

I'm sorry I'm leaving you.

With love, Virgil.

Roman watched the tears fall on the paper and smudge the ink.

He still couldn't believe that Virgil was dead.

Surely this was a nightmare or a hallucination?

No. He pinched his arm, but he already knew.

Virgil wasn't coming back. He was dead.

He'd never see his smile, never hold his hand, never even hear his voice.

He'd loved and he'd lost.

Roman woke up with tears on his face.

Virgil blinked groggily at him, and he cried some more.

"What's it?" Virgil asked, confused.

"You're... you're alive!"

Virgil hit him over the head with a pillow.

"No sh!t, Sherlock."

Roman leaned forward and kissed him.

Virgil smiled but was still confused.

"Bad dream."

"What happened?"

"You... you were dead."

Virgil hugged him, and Roman felt incredibly lucky to have Virgil in his arms, alive.

"You big sap, I'm not going anywhere."

Roman sniffled into his T-shirt.

"Thank you."