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The room is bleak and white.
And it's not the comforting kind either. It's not sunlight on fresh sheets or petals or clouds. It's sterile. Fluorescent with the hum of the lights droning on. The room is bare, the only decoration coming in the form of a few landscape photos on the walls. Landscapes that look fine until you stare long enough, and they begin to feel more constructed. Like no one has ever stood there.
The hospital monitor continues to beep slowly, steady and relentless.
It will keep beeping. Sunny needs it to keep beeping.
The cheap fabric of the chair beneath him squeaks as he leans forward closer to the bed. He's been sitting here for hours, at least. Time has seemed to come to a halt here in this room. Like it lost its meaning entirely.
Basil lies beside him, bright against the pale sheets. He's smiling, gently.
He's softened with time, and age. His face creased with wrinkles fanning from his mouth and around his eyes. His bright, messy blond hair now thinned into silver strands that lay against his pillow. A pink floral hairclip adorns his hair. It's fading too, nearly as old as they are. His hands… Basil’s hands are fragile and boney, traced with veins and slight tremors.
None of it has taken away his beauty. He's still just as he was so long ago. If anything, age has only deepened it.
Sunny reaches forward and takes Basil’s hand carefully, like he’s afraid it might dissolve at the slightest touch. He brushes his thumb over Basil’s knuckles, tracing the familiar grooves he's held for decades. Even when so thin, his skin is warm and gentle.
“You know…” Basil says softly. His voice is thinner, fragile but his. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”
Sunny’s breath stutters. He opens his mouth, but all he can manage is a quiet sniffle.
“I couldn’t have asked for more.” Basil continues. His smile softens as his gaze drifts up to the ceiling above him.
Sunny squeezes Basil's hand tighter, like he would slip away in a heartbeat if he didn't.
“Neither could I.” He barely manages to say. His voice trembles, but they’re as true as ever. He smiles weakly, even as it pulls painfully at his chest.
Basil sighs, content. “We were always together, weren’t we?”
His eyes brighten faintly with recollection. A gentle spark that felt straight out of their childhood.
“Even back then.” He finishes.
Sunny lets out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess we were.”
His mind drifts to times long past.
Back to Faraway.
A house filled up with flowers, almost overflowing.
Where pots lined every windowsill.
Where carefully pruned vines crept along the porch.
Where the rainbowed petals scattered over the lawn.
Afternoons bathed in golden light that filtered through green patterned curtains.
Sleepovers that were spent hiding under the covers with a flashlight.
When they would whisper into the night.
When they would giggle and talk oh so quietly.
When Basil would ramble on about a flower and its meaning. And Sunny would listen like it meant the world to him. Because it did.
Those mornings after where they'd wake up together.
Where they'd spend a lazy morning in bed, even as it blurred into afternoon.
Where Basil would brew some fresh tea for them. And they'd watch the steam curl up like it was alive.
Where time would pass slowly in a silence that didn't need to be filled.
Loud picnics with their friends. Laughter shared. A camera's click. Sunlight reflecting off their hair.
And then the quieter times… ones that felt secret. That belonged just to them. Sitting shoulder to shoulder on the porch. Hands brushing accidentally. And then intentionally.
They had rituals. So many little rituals.
Their shared walks home from school.
Sunny's visits every weekend where Basil would ramble about the new additions to his garden that week.
The texts they shared every night, saying goodnight, oftentimes twice.
Even after Sunny moved from his old home in Faraway they kept them up.
Calls that stretched late into the night.
Letters sent with little trinkets within. A pressed flower or drawing. Those letters were kept carefully, like a family heirloom. Even now, they sit carefully folded and pristine in their desk drawer.
Visits that felt too short and too long between. Every moment spent together like they'd never have enough time. And they didn't. It would never be enough.
When they turned eighteen, they made it official. Nothing fancy, just them, and a field of sunflowers on a breezy spring day.
It was a beautiful day. Sunny had convinced Basil to wear a dress for it. His heart almost stopped when he saw him.
They found a tiny apartment to share — just the two of them. The floors creaked and there was almost no space. But they loved it nonetheless. Even if Basil’s plant collection had to be trimmed to fit. They argued over where to put the couch or which way the shelf should face. But even those moments were enjoyable. They adopted a stray cat — black, like Mewo. Officially, her name was Maria, but they called her any number of things. They burned dinners and ordered takeout. They had something that belonged to them, imperfect though it was.
The years passed by.
Jobs came and went. Friends drifted to and fro. Some stayed. Some left. Their hairs turned gray, and lines deepened on their skin
That cramped apartment became a house. One with enough room for all the plants of the world. More flowers than anyone could ever manage. And yet somehow they did, together.
They were always together.
Now, those sixty-some years felt like a faint breath. One taken slowly but that was gone too quick. Like a wisp of dandelion fluff carried off by the breeze. There one second, and then gone the next.
Basil's hand lifts, shaking. It finds its way to Sunny’s cheek. Sunny closes his eyes and leans into the touch without hesitation.
“I’m glad, Sunny,” Basil whispers. “Happy to have spent my life with you.”
The words are simple, certain.
Sunny’s throat tightens so painfully he almost can’t respond.
“So am I.” He finally says, voice cracking. He doesn't look away, he can't. He won't.
Silence settled over them.
Not empty — full.
Full of decades between them.
Of shared moments and inside jokes.
Of the rain and the sun.
Of the quiet and the loud.
Of the easy and the hard.
The monitor continues beeping in its slow rhythm.
“I love you, Sunny.” Basil’s voice is barely above a breath.
Sunny feels something drop inside him. “I love you too, Basil.”
The words spill out quickly, like a second longer would be a second too late.
He waits.
For another smile.
Another squeeze of his hand.
Another soft word.
But instead—
The monitor stretches into a single, unbroken tone.
Flat and endless.
It pierces through the room.
His chest.
The fragile illusion he held tightly to that maybe time would pause, and this moment would never come.
Basil's face is still peaceful. The same gentle smile lingering on his face. Like he had simply drifted into a dream mid-thought.
Sunny doesn't let go of his hand. He holds it up, pressing his forehead against it. The warmth is already fading. Or maybe that's just his mind racing faster than reality.
“I’m here.” He whispers, unsure who he's saying it for.
His shoulders shake.
His tears fall freely, silently. They slip down his cheeks and blot the white sheets gray.
The world continues outside. Nurses move through the hallways. Doors open and close.
Somewhere, someone laughs.
Somewhere, someone receives good news.
But here… in this small room. Time itself breaks into pieces.
Sunny tightens his grip one last time.
Sixty years.
A lifetime.
Not long enough.
Never long enough.
And still — he would choose it all again. Even when knowing how it ends.
They'll always be together.