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With the war slowly winding down to a close, the vice president was starting to grow more worried. Not about the country, no, they were doing fine, they only had the Japanese to worry about in the Pacific at this point. No, Harry was worried about something much more important than that.
When the war began, Franklin had been getting the country back on her feet from the heavy hitting Great Depression. And then in response to the attack on Pearl Harbor they had to declare war on Japan, resulting in all of the Axis powers declaring war on the US. While the President had managed to maintain the American people's morale, and prevented the war from getting worse, all while serving over two terms in office, his own health was deteriorating. And Truman hated it.
At the beginning of his presidency, the president was steady, commanding, but in a way that drew others in rather than pushing them away. He was the same man he had been before becoming president. But now? Now, he was different.
He looked so much older, so much weaker and frail, nothing like the man he had been before the presidency. Still as handsome as always, but his eyes held a dim exhaustion they hadn't always had. It scared him.
The doctors and physicians told him to rest up more, he needed more time to rest and had less time to socialize as a result. He was terrified, to be entirely frank. The man he loved was practically eroding away before his eyes and all he could do was watch from behind him. As the vice president, Harry was next in line to become president if the sitting president was to die while in office.
In all honesty, that assassination attempt before he had even been inaugurated had scared the shit out of him. Cermak’s death had been no one but Zangara's fault, and yet Franklin's heart still hurt from it. It saddened him.
The war in Europe had ended by May, and it was now April, with spring having sprung, though the president's health only continued to decline, taking more and more opportunities to rest as time dragged on.
“You’ll be taking it easy this week, right?”
Harry felt his mouth saying as he held the other man's hand in his own, running his thumb over his knuckles and feeling his heart break at just how much softer his grip was than it once was, as though his hold on him and life itself was loosening as death crept up on him and tightened its hold around him.
“Yes. I'll be alright, Harry. I've been following doctor's orders. You need to stop worrying so much.”
He smiled, the small gentle smile reserved only for the man holding his hand right at that moment, but still weaker than Harry was used to, deflating with resignation as the president lifted his hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to his knuckles.
“I'll stop worrying when you stop doing things that worry me.”
His voice softened as the hand that'd been kissed went to cup Franklin's face, watching his weaker, aged features smooth out the slightest bit with comfort as he leaned into the touch, a tiny smile tugging at Harry's features as a result.
“I can't stop doing that.. the country needs me…”
Franklin protested quietly, though the way his eyes fluttered shut trustingly a testament to how much he wanted to give into absolutely all the orders to rest he was given, but the country was still in the middle of war. He couldn't afford to take breaks too close together and for too long. Not now. Not when they were so close to victory.
“I'll resign when the war is over. And then I'll have all the time for rest. No one told me becoming president would be so exhausting…”
The man's smile widened slightly, similarly to how it did back when it had shortly after he'd become president, as though he was doing something even bigger than becoming the leader of an entire country. Now, it was all crashing down on him as he struggled to continue carrying it, even with all the weight he'd taken off.
“Well, I believe it's a given. Becoming president is more than becoming mayor, more than being a governor, it's the single most important job in the entire nation. Well, maybe not that, but you represent the American people, and work for them. You deserve a break.”
Harry sighed, his other hand reaching up to cup the president's other cheek as he pressed their foreheads together.
“And it breaks my heart seeing you like this.. I don't want you to collapse.”
His voice was much softer, quiet with every ounce of love and adoration he had for this man, much smarter and hard working than some gave him credit for, but stubborn enough to worry him. Knowing they only had so much time left before Franklin had other things to do, he kissed the man's cheek, then his forehead, pausing for a moment before carefully pressing their lips together, as though afraid he'd shatter him if he was any less gentle.
“Harry, I'm alright. Really. You don't have to treat me like porcelain, I'm the president. Just because I have plenty more years on me doesn't mean I'll fall apart at any moment.”
Franklin gently reassured his vice president as they pulled apart for a moment, their foreheads resting together once again as one of his hands went up to his cheek, pulling him the slightest bit closer.
“I love you.”
Harry sighed quietly, his hands moving to rest on top of the one on his face.
“I know.”
A week passed from that day, and April was starting to set in, with a portrait painting scheduled April 12th for the president at the Little White House. He'd woken with a headache, so Harry had accompanied him out of concern as it grew worse over the day.
“I have a terrific headache..”
Floated out of the man's lips as a barely audible whisper at the end of the sentence, before he slumped in his seat, unconscious, before the portrait was close to completion, causing the vice president’s concern to grow as the painter paused to assist him with carrying the president to his bedroom.
Franklin's features were pale, his face smoothed out somewhat with an almost eerie amount of peace as the time went on and the president's physician assessed his condition, as Harry's concern only continued to grow, holding onto one of the president's hands and feeling his fear of the man's health spike with every tiny breath that got weaker with every other moment.
“...Afraid this is a massive hemorrhage. Intracerebral. He’s not gonna make it through the night if he lives any longer, my condolences..”
Harry felt his heart stutter in his chest as it skipped a beat, a quiet sob escaping him as pressed a kiss to Franklin's hand, tears starting to roll his face as he cupped Franklin's cheek, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead before pressing their foreheads together, his free hand resting right over his heart, terrified of the moment it would stop and he'd be left to run an entire country without Franklin by his side.
By the time he did finally slip away, Harry couldn't have gotten a grip on himself even if he had wanted to. The doctor stood in the mostly silent room for a moment after declaring the president dead before leaving to give the vice president some privacy.
His shoulders were shaking as he sobbed into Franklin's still chest, his hand resting on the man's cheek, the peaceful, more smoothed features breaking his heart as he gently wrapped his arms around the man's form, pressing gentle kisses to his features despite knowing he couldn't feel them, so far from ready to say goodbye.
From that day, to the moment he became president, to the day he died, that man's face was always floating around within his mind. It was only a matter of time…