“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”

- Jonathan Swift

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His eyelashes were long and surprisingly dark for how light his hair was. Fine lines dragged from the corner of his eyes downwards for about five centimetres. They reminded you of how happy he usually is when you're around even when he's in a bad mood.

You still loved Arthur's eyes when purple circles formed under them. Guarma had taken a toll on him, of that you were very aware, but it was more than that. His tiredness went beyond what a bad night or even a bad week could do.

He told you a week after his diagnosis. His deteriorating health was unbearably and embarrassingly noticeable by now. He was coughing and wheezing all the time and could barely get any rest at night.

"Arthur?"

He had zoned out again. He did that a lot recently. "Hm?"

You took his hand in yours and whispered: "I love you."

"I love you too," he coughed, covering his mouth and leaning as far away from you as he could.

You put a hand on his back and rubbed comfortingly. Finally, after about a minute, he swallowed dryly and turned to the sunset. You wrapped your arm around him and pretended not to notice the blood in the grass.

"I will always love, Arthur," you said, "even when you're dead."

“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”

- Jonathan Swift

🌬✨🌛💥🌿🍒🖤🍑🖤🍒🌿💥🌜✨🕊

“Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”

- Jonathan Swift

🌬✨🌛💥🌿🍒🖤🍑🖤🍒🌿💥🌜✨🕊

“The person who can bring the spirit of laughter into a room is indeed blessed.”

- Bennett Cerf

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