Chapter Text
You only have one chance to live life to its fullest before death eventually comes for everyone.
...
Autumn was never really Parrot’s favorite season. Wearing heavy layers just to stop the cold from seeping into his skin wasn’t exactly enjoyable. Still, he tolerated it because Wifies loved the colder months.
“Just one season closer to winter,” the other boy would always say with a grin.
At the moment, the two walked side by side along a pavement blanketed in orange leaves on their way to school, chatting about random things without pause.
“It’s way colder today, bro,” Parrot suddenly commented, his polished black shoes crunching through the scattered leaves beneath him.
Wifies laughed softly, adjusting the backpack hanging from his shoulders.
“Not a fan of the cold, Parrot?” the brown-haired boy teased, lightly bumping his shoulder against the avian’s.
Parrot rolled his eyes before quickly firing back, “Summer’s better, bro. No classes, more adventures.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And it means another page in our scrapbook gets filled.”
Of course, the scrapbook meant a lot to Parrot.
What began as a simple middle school project slowly turned into a collection of memories the two treasured over the years.
It carried far more meaning than Wifies realized. Looking through pages stained with jam smudges and cluttered with tiny keepsakes somehow made the weight of Parrot’s problems easier to carry.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, bro. We still have a few summers left before graduation,” Wifies replied, stepping slightly ahead of him.
In a way, he was right. Both of them had been thinking about senior graduation lately. Time passed frighteningly fast when spent beside someone important to you.
Parrot let out a quiet huff, kicking a pebble off the pavement. “I’m not rushing anything. I’m just saying summer’s better, bro.”
Wifies rolled his eyes before slowing his pace to match Parrot’s. “You just miss carving faces into watermelons.”
“Maybe I do, bro,” Parrot admitted without hesitation. Everything became memorable as long as Wifies was there beside him.
Parrot really loved warmth, Wifies thought absentmindedly. He became so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed the school gates appearing ahead of them. Usually observant, he completely missed the faint tremble in Parrot’s voice and the nervous way his fingers tugged at the hem of his sweater.
Wifies couldn’t fully understand why Parrot cared so much about preserving memories. They still had time ahead of them, didn’t they?
“Come on, let’s hurry before we’re late,” Wifies said as he tugged Parrot through the school gates.
...
The bell had already rung several minutes earlier, yet the two still sat beneath the large oak tree near the school’s newly built gymnasium. The air there felt cooler than inside the classrooms, exactly the kind of weather Wifies liked.
The two talked endlessly about the things they wanted to do after school ended.
Wifies suggested going somewhere farther than the crowded beaches around the city. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere calmer.
Parrot, however, was distracted peeling tangerines for Wifies, momentarily ignoring the ache spreading through his muscles until a hand waving in front of him snapped him back to reality.
“Huh—what?” Parrot stammered, the tangerine peels forgotten in his lap.
“You drift off into your own world a lot lately, Parrot,” Wifies pointed out, lightly poking his arm.
Parrot hummed uncertainly, fingers twisting the loose thread on his baby blue sweater. The pain in his muscles made it difficult to focus lately, and it was beginning to affect his daily life. He was certain Wifies had already noticed the shift but simply chose not to comment on it.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Wifies asked, leaning closer until their shoulders brushed together.
How could Parrot explain the pain he was hiding? The fear tightening around his throat whenever he thought about what was inevitable?
“It’s nothing important… just the usual, bro,” Parrot answered vaguely before popping a tangerine slice into his mouth.
Wifies narrowed his eyes but decided not to push any further. He sighed deeply and leaned back against the oak tree, peeling his own tangerine as silence settled between them.
They should probably return to class before a teacher caught them skipping.
...
September 26 — Saturday, 10:16 AM
The wind outside had grown harsher and colder, making it impossible for Parrot to leave the house without triggering another coughing fit.
How could Wifies enjoy weather like this? Parrot wondered as his fingers tapped rhythmically against the kitchen counter.
He was alone at home once again. His parents were away on yet another extended business trip. Hopefully they would return soon—he was beginning to run low on meds and painkillers.
The worsening symptoms had started days ago. Constant migraines pounded against his skull, and his skin had become paler than even the doctors originally expected during his diagnosis.
Had his condition worsened? Would he end up hospitalized again? No matter how much he wanted to ignore it, reality remained painfully clear.
Parrot was sick. And it was only getting worse.
He was still lost in thought when the doorbell rang. Quickly pulling himself upright, he headed toward the front door.
He glanced through the peephole and immediately relaxed when he recognized Wifies standing outside. Opening the door, he stepped aside to let him in.
“Took you long enough,” Parrot scoffed, though there was no real irritation behind his words. “I was starting to get bored, bro.”
Wifies chuckled at his expression before patting his shoulder. “I’m here now, and that’s what matters.”
“At least you came over, bro. Come on, let’s add more stickers to the scrapbook.”
Parrot quickly redirected the conversation as he led Wifies upstairs to his bedroom. The room was neatly decorated, and Wifies couldn’t help but notice the awards lining the walls along with framed photographs resting on the shelves.
Parrot crossed the room toward a dusty cabinet and carefully pulled out the large, heavily decorated scrapbook that had clearly seen better days.
As Parrot flipped through the pages, Wifies’ gaze drifted over the progression of every picture and trinket carefully taped onto the paper.
Each page held another glimpse into the bond they shared. Wifies remembered every single memory as if it had only happened yesterday.
He vividly remembered the day they first started adding pictures—the dumb adventures they had as kids, the polaroids stuck onto each page with cheap convenience store glue, and especially the day Parrot found the old spyglass near the beach.
But those years were over now. Wifies had to focus on the present instead of getting lost in the past.
The brown-haired boy glanced over Parrot’s shoulder, watching his best friend pull out glitter and stickers to decorate their latest adventure. It was silly, honestly—yet that was exactly what made the scrapbook so special.
“You really bring your camera everywhere, huh?” Wifies teased, a grin tugging at his lips.
“How else am I supposed to preserve memories, hm?” the avian retorted, carefully placing stickers onto the page with surprising precision.
Wifies chuckled softly, fingers tracing the edges of the polaroids. “Goodness, you’re such a historian, Parrot,” he joked. “You make every little event feel like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
Parrot didn’t deny it. He loved capturing memories with the click of his camera. Something about preserving moments with Wifies made everything feel complete.
“It’s something we can look back on once the scrapbook’s finished.”
“We still have a few years left, my friend.”
“Yeah…” Parrot murmured softly. “We still have all the time in the world to finish it, I guess.”
Parrot paused, glitter still dusting his fingertips before he turned toward Wifies.
“What do you think the last page of our scrapbook will look like?”
Wifies blinked, taking a moment before answering.
“Maybe after graduation?” he suggested casually, letting the glue dry on his fingertips. “Honestly, it’s up to the universe to decide what ends up being the last thing we put in there.”
Parrot hummed thoughtfully before gently closing the scrapbook with a soft thud.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
...