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Once he’s pushed Frank’s wheelchair into the bedroom (a task he struggles with far more than usual, his muscles weak and his limbs feeling like he wades through treacle as the pills work their way through his system), Bill shuts the door behind them, sliding the bolt across to lock them in. As he explained in the letter he left on the table (written in the kitchen as he cooked, telling whoever finds the house exactly what happened and to avoid the bedroom), Bill stumbles across the room and opens the window. The cool breeze makes him shiver, but he tries to ignore it—plus, the cold won’t matter once he gets into bed.
Turning around, he stares at Frank, whose head lolls as he slumps in his wheelchair, half asleep.
“Hey,” Bill says, crossing the room and cupping Frank’s cheeks. Stroking his lover’s face—his husband’s face, he thinks, glancing at the rings on their fingers—he whispers, “Stay awake for me.”
Frank gives him a lopsided smile, his eyelids drooping. “All right, Mister Bossy,” he says, managing a playful, teasing tone despite the slur to his voice.
Bill chuckles, loving Frank so much it fucking hurts. Still cupping Frank’s face, Bill leans closer and presses a soft kiss to Frank’s lips, tasting wine with a weird but familiar aftertaste. “Let’s get you into bed.”
Somewhat clumsily, his weak muscles making him struggle to perform a task he knows so well, Bill helps Frank out of his wheelchair and onto the bed. Once satisfied that Frank is comfortable, Bill joins Frank in bed, wriggling closer to his husband under the blankets until he can wrap his arms around Frank. Letting out a contented sigh, Frank rests his head on Bill’s chest, and Bill strokes his arm, comforted by the familiar weight of Frank’s head against his ribs. Sometimes they reversed their positions, back when Frank’s arms were strong enough to wrap around Bill, but Bill always feels more comfortable with his arms around Frank. It’s probably his protective side coming out, just wanting to hold Frank tight and never let go.
“This is nice…” Frank mumbles. “Ever tell you… how much I love you?”
“Oh, I dunno… Only every fuckin’ day since you fell into my life,” Bill says, making sure to add a little joke about Frank getting himself stuck in one of Bill’s pit traps on the day they first met. As Frank laughs, the sound so weak but still warming Bill’s heart, Bill drags in a heavy breath (was it always so difficult to breathe?), and adds, “Love you too, Frank. You’re the best thing… that ever happened to me…”
“Who’re you… and what’ve you done… with my grumpy… Bill?” Frank says, struggling to say even a few words at a time, his breaths so slow and labored.
Barely able to keep his eyes open, his vision getting blurry, Bill laughs breathlessly. Fatigue claws at him, the urge to sleep getting stronger and stronger.
And as Frank’s body goes still against his own, Bill’s eyes close and he falls asleep… and he never wakes up.