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The hospital room was sterile and empty. No cards or flowers took up space on the table beside Edward’s bed. No bright balloons were weighed down in the corner. Even the book he had been stubbornly reading sat untouched, as it had for days since the headaches became too severe for Edward to make sense of the words. His only company was the beep of monitors, and the nurses who came in every two hours to check if he had expired. No one was more disappointed than Edward that it hadn’t happened yet. Even his thoughts, once his only consistent companion, had left him to wither in a fifth-story hospital room; not even a whimper would mark his passing, let alone a bang.
“So…cancer, huh?”
Edward had to admit how impressive it was that that single voice was enough to drag an annoyed groan from him, even if it clawed his throat on its way out.
“As ever, your bedside manner is impeccable, doctor.”
He cracked open his eyes in time to see Jonathan shrug. The inconsiderate bastard didn’t look a minute older than the day he left. Still slender and sharp, tall and dark, with glacial eyes and hands Edward had wished would hold his more than once since he’d been admitted. The only noticeable differences were the black suit Jonathan was wearing, and the absence of the blow that saw him lowered into the ground with half his skull crushed in.
“It just doesn’t suit you, is all,” Jonathan continued from the foot of Edward’s bed. “Not your style, and certainly not what you deserve.”
“We can’t all be lucky enough to end our lives with a horrible murder, Jonathan,” Edward grumbled.
“You wouldn’t want mine,” said Jonathan. He tapped his temple. “No open casket at your funeral? Unacceptable.”
Edward thought his body had forgotten how to laugh. Jonathan only smiled at the raspy sound and picked at his suit jacket.
“Although we should really have Words about your choice of grave attire.”
“I know, I know. You hate dressing up.”
Jonathan shrugged again. “Not always. The couple times we went down to the Iceberg Lounge were nice. They didn’t waste any time tearin’ it down, did they?”
“Oswald was very specific in his will.” Edward tried to shimmy even just an inch upward. Meeting anyone in such a vulnerable state was galling to him, even if they were the one person who saw him in every state and mood over the years they spent together.
“What are you, then? Apparition or hallucination?”
“Does it really matter?” Jonathan walked over to the unused visitor’s chair beside the bed. Edward forced his head to follow him, no matter the pain or exhaustion. Whatever Jonathan was, Edward wasn’t ready to lose him again so soon.
“I suppose not. Whatever you are, I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Jonathan assured him. There was no heat or weight from the hand rested upon Edward’s, but he twisted his wrist to grip it anyway. If a nurse came in and saw him talking and grasping at thin air, well, it wouldn’t be the most embarrassing position she’d ever seen him in.
“That right there, that makes me think you really are in my head,” Edward teased. “The Jon I knew was never so romantic.”
“Death has a freeing element to it.” Jonathan traced the knuckles that jutted out like stones on Edward’s gaunt hand. “There’s no pressure. No indecision. It allows for words that the Jon you knew…” His gaze avoided Edward’s entirely, and focused only on their hands. “…was too afraid to speak when he could.”
Edward did his best to tighten his grip. “I’m a genius. I know how to read between the lines.”
Jonathan’s mouth moved in reply, but Edward couldn’t hear it. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open as an exhaustion deeper than he’d ever known tempted him to rest. He made a distressed noise and fought it, trying his utmost to keep Jonathan in his sight.
He wasn’t sure if the forehead gently pressed against his own was real or just his dimming mind trying to cope with his final minutes, but it cleared away the fog and the panic. For one beautiful moment there was no cancer, no empty hospital room or unremarkable end. There was only Edward and his lover, at home and five years younger and together.
“I missed you,” Edward mumbled.
“I missed you too, darlin’.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Jonathan promised. Edward thought he felt a kiss lighter than air touch his skin. He could no longer feel the mattress under his back.
“You left once already,” grumbled Edward, who even now felt the need to argue and correct.
Jonathan only chuckled. “And I came back. Now it’s your turn.”
The pain in Edward’s head felt far away. Everything around him faded into darkness, even Jonathan’s touch, leaving Edward in quiet oblivion where only a single voice remained. When it spoke next, Edward could hear the smile threaded through every syllable.
“So get up off your ass, Edward. I’ve waited long enough.”