A slightly edited version of the prompt I took from @MT_Reade . Enjoy!

Logan had a fixed morning routine. He would wake up at 6 am sharp, no matter what time he had slept the previous night. After making his bed systematically (first fluff the two white pillows, then arrange them one on top of the other. Afterwards, pull the navy blue covers over the bed. Finally, tuck the sides under the bed.), he would shuffle his way towards the bathroom.

The cold marble tiles didn't affect him. Almost robotically, he squeezed the recommended amount of toothpaste onto his toothbrush. Up. Down. Up. Down. His hand moved stiffly, as if he was a toddler, carefully trying to impress his parents with his methodical tooth brushing skills. Staring blankly at his reflection, his eyes lacked emotion. The only thing that reflected humanity on his face were the dark circles around his eyes, the ones usually hidden behind thick spectacles. Most would assume they were caused from staying up late, reading or researching materials for the next day. That was not the case.

Whenever Logan closed his eyes, he could still hear the coughing. It was hoarse and dry, accompanied with wheezing. The coughing was always loud, carving itself into his mind like the painful memory it was. However, the memory was the most painful when it was followed with awkward chuckles. It still made Logan want to tell the cougher off, to tell them that coughing was no laughing matter. After all, it was the first symptom that eventually lead to... He shook his head, as if the memory would lessen if he did so.

And when it wasn't the coughing, it was the eyes that stared back at him. Oh, those eyes. They use to be bright blue, shining with youthful innocence and joy, filled with humour and delight. But the eyes that stared at him looked sad, the blue dulled and the glimmer lost. The only thing that they were filled with, were tears that cracked the cheerful facade.

Logan continued his routine. Opening his closet, he reached towards the ironed clothes. His hand froze. His eyes scanned over the closet's contents. Simple dark blue jeans in a neat stack, dark collared shirts in another. He shook his head once more, putting on the jeans and shirt in quick succession. Pulling open the drawer that kept his ties, he froze once more. Mostly dark colours, a pastel blue one stood out. A present from...

Bright blue eyes beamed at him . " Happy Birthday, Lo!" The eyes shone brighter, if that was even possible. " I know you like ties, and I saw this one and it was..." The eyes looked down shyly, suddenly finding puppy themed shoes extremely intriguing. " Well, perfect for you!" A pink box was thrust into Logan's hands, matching his cheeks extremely well. His slender fingers neatly removed the wrapping paper, before opening the box to reveal a pastel blue tie, paw prints scattered over it. A smile tugged the corners of his mouth, a chuckle escaping his lips. He pulled the person in front of him into a tight embrace.

" I love it! Thank you so much!"

Logan took the tie out, before gazing at it with a mixture of fondness and sadness in his eyes. "Dear..." He choked out, " I...I miss you. Your eyes, your laughter... I miss you." Trembling, he wiped a tear that had slipped down his cheek. " Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped. I could have helped. The bills, I could have worked more, get more part time jobs. Taking care of you, it would make me more than happy to do it. So why didn't you tell me? Why?"

He knew it was too late to ask, that he would never know. However, he could hear the reply. "Honey, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault, it was never your fault." Then, Logan would be given a hug. " I'll always be with you."

Sighing, Logan smiled slightly, placing the tie around his neck. He started tying it. Paw prints wove in and out, finally being knotted. He tightened it and a slight smile tugged the corners of his lips once more.

"I know, my dear. Always."

His body was still trembling, every breath he took still shaky. He knew it wasn't his fault, he knew it wasn't. But why could he still hear a small voice in his head, insisting that he could have done something to prevent what had happened. Staring at his reflection, his vision just tunneled, focusing on the tie he just put on. He caressed the knot gingerly, before removing the tie. Folding it, he tucked it neatly into the drawer. He wasn't ready, he decided. The emotions and nostalgia linked to that simple piece of fabric was too much for him to bear. Maybe next time, he thought as he shut the drawer.

Maybe.