I heard a knock on the door, and I'm hoping it's you. "I'll be back as soon as I can," you told me our last night together. I've been waiting for "soon" to come for the last year and even though I know it isn't you, it can't be you, i still have that one bit of hope that it is.

But when I open the door, it's you standing there, just like in my dreams. The rain is pouring down around your body, making this vision seem more sureal. Your blond hair is long, just brushing against your shoulders, and unkempt. The red sweatshirt on your back looks as though you've worn it everyday this past year. But you still look good to me. You pull me into your arms as our lips become one under the glistening moonlight and falling rain. The stubble under your nose scratches my face, and I reach to rub my chin, but you stop me, taking my hand in yours.

I lead you into the house that we shared before you left, and realize that I should have cleaned it earlier. Dirty laundry lay strewn across the hardwood flooring beneath out feet and the pale, white walls and decorated with t-shirts from concerts that we went to together. Together. It seems so long ago that we were together. But when we sit down on the couch and you begin to tell me what happened on your year long journey, I realize why we ever were together.

"Matt, I want us to move here together. It was amazing. Everything about it, from the bright lights, to the gorgeous weather all year long, it's all amazing." You stop suddenly and look down, and I know there's something you're not telling me. I lift my head from your lap and look you in the eyes. "Jamie, what are you not telling me?" You take a long sigh and I think that what you're about to tell me is more serious than I thought.

"Mat, while I was in Las Vegas, I started to have these moments where everything would go black for a couple seconds, but then I would be fine. But after a while, I started to get really bad headaches and sometimes I would wake up and not feel parts of my limbs. I went to the hospital one afternoon after a really bad migraine and I they took me in for a CAT scan." You sit up beside me from your lying position and I get to examine how much you've really changed.

You have bags under your eyes and your face is almost translucent, it's that pale. You have a five o'clock shadow, making you look ten years older than you actually are. You take your bony hand in mine and my heart begins to race. Something is wrong, my mind is yelling at me. But my mind doesn't need to yell at me, the look on your face can tell me that. "Mattie, the..the Cat scan showed that I have a brain tumor the size of a tennis ball, and it's malignant. It means I'm.." A tear rolls down your cheek and falls into your lap. You look up and look into my eyes. "I'm going to die, Mattie. I'm going to die."

One year earlier

I look at your face and can't ever remeber seeing you this happy. The sun is shining gently on your tanned skin and makes you look like an angel, which is what you are to me. Walking through the park, I realized that I never wanted this day to end, because I knew that it would be our last. Listening to you speak about bands you wanted to see later this month with a small smile on your face, I didn't, I couldn't spoil your mental calendar for you.

Instead I was thinking of all the things I would miss about you: your ability to always have a conversation, your raspy voice, but most of all, the way you made me happy. After we signed, the popularity of the band really got to me, but you were always there. Whether it was making me a cup of coffee or just simply being there, I could always count on you. You turned to me and noticed the anguished look on my face.

"Jamie, is everything ok? You've been kind of spacey lately." We sit down side by side on the nearest park bench, our legs brushing up aganst eachother. I can't bear to look at you, knowing how much this is going to hurt you. The flowers across from us reflect our relationship; beautiful and colorful, vibrant and exciting, always dependent, yet destined to die at some point, though our relationship will never die. "Mattie, I have to go away." After what seemed like minutes, I look you in the eye and brush away a tear rolling down your defined cheek. "Why?" You ask in a shakey voice, muffled by your hands, which were holding you head.

Why? There weren't any good reasons why. I just wasn't feeling right about anything lately, whether it was a lyric or what to say to you, and I needed to clear my head, was what I meant to tell you. I mean, it was the truth, wasn't it? Instead, I said, "I love you too much to let you suffer. I need..I need to leave to make you happy." You take my hands in yours. "I AM happy. I've never been this happy." I sigh, knowing what you're saying is false.

"Mattie, you know and I know how much I love you, but this is for our own good. Please, don't hate me for this. I just..I need you to understand that this is.." I can't manage to get the next words out, as my throat is clogged with tears of sorrow. "This is my fault, and I need to be the one to make it better." I stroke your black hair gently, trying to remember every detail of you. <i>Cannot be your memory..will not be your memory..</i>

I tell you I love you, that I will always love you, and you ask me how you can contact me. I take you in my arms as we melt into eachother. "Look in the stars, Mattie." I whisper softly so only you can hear. "Look in the stars."

One year later

I can't bear to look you in the eyes, which have released a downpour of tears. I want to tell you that it will be alright, that I'll be fine, but I know that's not true. I've already lost some feeling in then muscles in my face and I can't help but slur when I talk, making me sound like a drunk. I don't dare to tell you this now, though, as you're already going through too much. You look at the wall to the left of me and I wonder what you're thinking. I brush some loose strands of your black hair from your eyes and notice the change in you. You've become more defined, more muscular, and I long to ask you if you've cut back on cigarettes and alcohol. Before I can, you speak for the first time in what seems like ages.

"How..how long do you have to live?" Your voice is raspy and cracks on every other word, making you sound like a thirteen year old. I take a long sigh and stroke your cheek. "Two months, maybe three." Our eyes lock, and I wrap my arm around you as you bury your head into my chest.

"I should be the one consoling you. It should, it should.." Your words are muffled into my shirt, which is becoming wet from your tears. Still in my arms, I tell you my plan. "Mattie, I want us to move to Las Vegas. I have all the medication I need, and the house we would live in is close to the hospital, in case anything happens. What do you say?" You pull away from my embrace and say the words I hoped you would. "Of course, JB, of course."

We walk hand and hand into the bedroom, while you set my luggage in front of the door. But as we walk into the bedroom, I stumble a bit. Your arms grasp my waist to prevent my fall. "Oh my god, are you okay?" I sit down on the edge of the bed. "Yes, I'm fine." I give you the best smile I can. You put your finger on my right cheek, the one I cannot feel, and push it up so it forms a smile. It immediately falls back down.

"Jamie, what other symptoms do you have?" You have a worried look on your face, and all I want to do is melt into you kiss. I know I must answer your question, so I tell you everything the doctor said. I tell you about the symptoms, how I could be blind and paralyzed, I tell you of the seizure I had and how there could be more. I pause for a moment and your sweet voice travels through the air. "James, what are you feeling now?" I look down at my hands, which are more interesting than answering the question, for I know you will not be happy with it.

"After the seizure, which was a month or so ago, I lost most of the feeling in my right arm. That was the only major effect. But gradually, more and more things were happening. I couldn't see out of the sides of my eyes one day and still can't. Then I couldn't hear as well as I used to." I look deep into your eyes and see the hurt that I caused you. "I'm so sorry Mattie, I never meant to hurt you." It comes out in a slurred whisper, but I know you heard me. I can feel it in my heart. You kiss me gently on the lips and smile. "When are we off to Vegas?"

One year earlier

"Hello, sir, may I help you?" A medium sized man with an oversized suit jacket smiles as he asks me this question. "Yes, I would like the first plane ticket you have, please?" The sound of pounding keys fills the otherwise silent air and he looks up from his computer. "Ahhh, yes, well, we have a flight to New York.." Too busy. "..Kansas City" Where? "..And Las Vegas." "Can I have the one Las Vegas?" He smiled at me as he looked up from his computer.

"The first one we have out tonight is a red eye. It will cost 576.74 pounds. We have row seven, seat A. Would you like me to book it for you?" I still can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm leaving you. But this is the only way to keep what we have alive. I nod slowly to the man standing behind the desk. He hands me the ticket, tells me the location of the gate, and walks away.

Making my way over to the gate where my plane is taking off, I think of the reasons I left you. You've always been the one I could count on; why did I just leave you? I think about turning around, telling the man behind the desk that this is all one big mistake, and run back to you, but I know it can not be that way, I have to go through with this.

A friendly female flight attendant greets me on the plane with a warm smile and tells the rest of the plane and myself the safety procedures of the aircraft, but I'm not listening. The only thing I can hear is the sound of your voice echoing in my ear, telling me that you are happy, that you're happy with me. Tears begin to run down my cheeks and on to my lap as I remember the image of our last day together at the park, your eyelids brimmed with saltwater tears, puffy and red. I caused those tears, I made you unhappy. Eventually, sleep wraps me up in its blanket and I'm left with the memory of you and me.

The bumpy landing wakes me from my dreams of you and I get off the plane. Taking in my surroundings of this foreign land, I locate the nearest bar. I sit down next to a fat, middle aged man who looks like he needs a bar of chocolate. "Sucky day?" He asks me. I'm startled my his voice and turn to look at him, but blackness takes over my vision, the world spinning before my eyes. I put my head down and grasp the table to level myself, and eventually the blackness fades away. "I guess you could say that," I reply. A smile appears on his lips. "Nice accent. Don't get too many of those around here. British, right?"

Accent. I'm thrown back into the present and remember where I am. "Yes, English. This is my first time in America so I haven't had much time to listen to people's accents yet." He nods as if understanding my situation, as if he just left someone he loved. "Would you like to talk about it?" He asks me, catching me off guard. But his friendliness pulled me in and I spilled everything about you and me into his ears. When I finally stopped, he told me to take my time in Las Vegas, to enjoy everything, and to try not to think about you. If only it was that easy.

One month later..

My feet keep the rhythm as I sing the song of love in my head. Your image has filled my head for days now, maybe even weeks, and I can't stop thinking about you. Looking at the brown mountains surrounding this barren valley, I can see the sun set behind them, creating a burning glow over the valley. Cars are flying past me as I walk along the white sidewalk, and tall buildings shade me from the glow. People are rushing all around me, thinking about their terrible day at work, or how hot the weather is, but I can only think of you, my love. Suddenly, a wave of calmness passes over my body, and I feel as though I am floating. Colors of all shade, red, green, blue, fill my line of vision. I come out my body and look down on my body below me, which is convulsing heavily. People are surrounding me now, one person is calling for an ambulence. Then I am thrust back into my seizing body, and sleep warms my body like a wool blanket.

A soft rustling sound brings me back into the present. Opening my eyes, I try to remember where I am. White walls, cotton sheets, metal beds, I must be in a hospital. But I can't remember why. I turn my head to the left, and instead of you, I see, "Chaz?" I can barely get the word out, and when I do, it sounds slurred and unintelligably, like I have an orange in my mouth. Charlie lifts his head from the edge of my bed and flashes me a huge grin. "JB! Nice to see you awake." He leans over and gives me a hug, his brown hair brushing up against my chin.

I take in his appearance, as I haven't seen him in months. Purple and blue bags have formed under his eyes and he has a scruffy beard forming on his defined chin. His eyes, bloodshot and tired, look as though he has been high. Snapping back into the future, I lift my arms to wrap around his back, and for the first time I notice that a weight is on my right arm, preventing it from moving. Thinking it's just a fluke, that maybe it has been asleep for too long, I try to move a finger, anything in my arm to show me that it is still alive.

"Chaz, there is a slight problem. I..uh..can't move my arm." Charlie releases me from his bear hug and looks me in the eye. "James, I was talking with the doctor, and he said you have glioblastoma." My first thought is, glio what? "What's that?" The look on Charlie's face is one of fear and saddness, and I start to get scared. He looks down to the ground, sighs heavily, and looks back into my eye.

"James, it means you have a brain tumor. They took you in for an MRI when you were still unconcious and found it. If you ever got headaches, that's probably why. It's also the reason for the seizure you had and the reason your arm is numb." He stops speaking and I can't register what he's just said, because I can't believe this is happening. This happens to doctors on ER and Lifetime movies. Not twenty year olds.

"How long do I have to live?" It comes out barely as a whisper. A tear drops onto my paper robe that the nurses changed me into when I arrived at the hospital. Charlie looks into my eyes again and I can see the wet spots on his cheeks and the reddness outlining his eyes. "Three to six months, depending on how fast the tumor grows. But there's all types of treatment. Chemotheropy, radia-"

I cut him off with a wave of my good arm. I want to live; who doesn't? But I got this tumor for a reason and I'm going to fufill that purpose. "I can't, Chaz. I..I can't be given false hope for something I know is going to kill me anyway." He looks away and I can tell that is not the answer he wanted to hear. He wants me to be strong, fight it out, but I can't when I know, well not know exactly, but have this feeling that I'm going to die. I know this will hurt you, but in the end, it will make you a better person. Everything I do for you, I do it for you.

One year later

We walk down the corridor from the plane, our feet brusing against the smooth carpet. We enter a huge room with people rushing around us, the sound of coins against metal, and neon light blinding our sight. "Want to try your first slot machine?" You ask slowly with a huge grin on your face. I smile back at you and we walk towards the nearest one. "You go first." I say, motioning towards it.

You place the duffel bag that you carried off the of the plane at your feet and using your good arm, you struggle to pull down the handle on the machine. Your arm drops to your side and I can tell that something is wrong, but I know you will tell me in your own time, when you want to. The sun is bouncing off of your ruffled blond hair and I have to nearly cover my eyes to see.

Three red number sevens appear on the screen in front of you and gold coins start piling out from the slot at the bottom of the machine. You turn to face me and start to giggle. You ask me, "Go find me a bucket to put these in, will you?" and I obey, handing you a white plastic cup with the name Harrah's stamped across the front. Scooping the coins from the metal tray that they fell on, you dump them into the bucket. "Well, aren't you the lucky one?" I tell you, as a put my arm around your waist. "I'm just lucky to have you." you reply.

One stinky taxi ride, a block walk in the hot desert sun after telling the cabby the wrong address, and picture with a palm tree later, we walk into the hotel room that we have been assigned to and the first thing you do is throw yourself on the bed, giggling like a school girl who has eaten sixteen pounds of chocolate. "Come on, mate, join me!" Now you're jumping on the bed, and I just want you to jump in my arms to I can kiss you.

I couldn't love you more if time was running out, couldn't love you more right now

You notice me staring at you and step down off of the pink and blue bed, placing your good arm on my right shoulder. "I love you. You know that right?" You ask me, with a little desperation in your eyes. I smile a little as I realize your little game, and answer you with the words I know you want to hear. "Always and forever." I kiss you gently on your lips and you half smile. "Now go take a shower. I don't want to sleep beside a stinky man!" You push me towards the bathroom and stumble a bit as you throw me into the bathroom. "You okay?" I ask, not wanting you to hear the worryness in my voice. You lift you head and look me square in the eye. "As okay as I'll ever be."

After washing the Las Vegas sun off of my skin, I come out of the bathroom and call your name. "Ready for the action to be-" I stop short as a realize the sight infront of me. Your body is being rocked and your eyes are rolled up in the back of your head. I grab the handset of the phone off of the nightstand next to the bed and dial 911. "911, what's your emergency?" I want to scream across the line, but instead my voice comes out in a whisper. "My boyfriend, he's having a seizure and he's got a brain tumor." The last words come out so broken, I'm sure that the operator on the other end could not have heard them.

"Okay, sir, please calm down. Now, tell me where you are?" I desperately try to remember where I am. London? I can't be in London, I dialed 911. I'm in America. Where? "I'm in the Paris Hotel in Las Vegas. Room number twenty one, the seventh floor." The soothing voice replies on the other end of the line. "Okay, sir, someone will be right there. Remove your boyfriend's shirt and place a pillow under his head. Now roll him on one side." I did as the operator told me and hung up the phone. "Please, Jimmy, you can't do this. We haven't seen Lance Burton yet!" I laugh at my own joke, then realize the seriousness of the situation occuring in front of me.

"Excuse me, sir." Everything is happening in slow motion; people are moving all around me, and someone lifts your convulsing body onto the metal gurney. A tall man in a blue jacket comes up to me and tells me where they are taking you; Desert Springs Hospital, right down Flamingo Boulevard, which is down the street. I follow you on the gurney into the ambulence and sit down on the chair places inside this moving metal room. Even though it has been five minutes, your body is still trashing about and I feel powerless to stop it. I grab you hand and whisper something in your ear. "Everything is going to be alright, little Jimmy."

One year earlier

After ten months of rehabilitation, treatments that have not worked and surgeries that have not done their duty, I know that I need to go home and see you again. As much as this pain is unbearable for me, I know that the pain of me leaving you must hurt more. Receiving my ticket from the cheery woman behind the ticket counter reminds me of all of the ways that I have probably hurt you. I feel so selfish, and I would not be surprised if you didn't want me back.

The next eleven hours sitting in the stuffy plane go by as a blur. Occasionally I look out of the window, at the soft, floating clouds, but that only reminds me of my love for you; careless and free. I ask myself the same question that I have asked myself every single day since I left; why did I leave you?

As if in a trance, I get into taxi cab waiting off the side of the road one hour since I got off of the plane. "Where are you headed to?" An older man swiveled in his seat and looked at me struggling to get my seat belt on with one arm. After telling him your address, I think about what to say to you. I know that just showing up at your door step won't fix all that I've done to you, but I can't even imagine what to say. Would it be okay to tell you of my adventures in Las Vegas, or would that make you even more upset?Should I just come out and tell you about the tumor, or wait until I know you still love me?

I walk up the cold, concrete stairs leading to your wooden door and notice that nothing has changed about the neighborhood; it is as if I have never left. I put the gym bag that I left with one year earlier by my side and hesitate to knock on the door. What will you think of me? I know that I can not wait any longer, and whether you hate me or not, I must fufill of addiction of you. I have been sober of you for far too long.

Slowly, I work my hand into a fist and knock on the door. Rain begins to fall from the now darkened sky and I feel that the heavens are crying for you, for the pain I have put you through. The door opens and you come out from the slab of wood. Your black hair is shaggy and covering your ears. Bags outline the bottom of your eyes and your eyes look hollow, almost sunken in. I can't take the silence any longer, so I wrap my arm around you and our lips become entwined in the act of passion. You take my bag from the front stoop and drop it next to the doorway which I left through one year earlier, and am now returning into.

We sit down on the couch and you want to hear me talk about Las Vegas. Though I am speaking, it feels as though my mouth and brain are not connected. My brain is still thinking about what I am to tell you about the brain tumor and my mouth is telling you everything about Las Vegas but the hospitals, rehabilitation visits, drugs and surgeries. I tell you how we should move there and how wonderful the city is. But then, as if you can read my mind, you ask me what happened that I am not telling you. I can see the fear in your eyes and I can see the anguish that I have left you with, and I know that I must tell you the truth.

I begin to tell you all about the tumor, and how long I have to live. You melt into my chest, wetting my shirt with tears. We walk into the bedroom that we once shared and I tell you about the symptoms: about my numb arm, the inability to move the right side of my face, and the seizure that I had, causing all of those symptoms. After what seemed like hours of waiting, you ask me when we are going to Las Vegas, and I know that our love is forever, and that I have been forgiven for all that I have done.

One year later

I open my eyes and turn my head so that I am facing you. Sleep has wrapped around your body like a blanket and all I want to do is share the blanket with you. But instead of these rare, few moments where I can watch you in silence, you hear me stir and look up with hope in your eyes. "Jamie?" you whisper softly. Your voice is laced with tears and you sound like you're on the verge of a breakdown.

"Hey baby." I grin back to you so you know that I am real. You stroke my cheek, lean over me and kiss me softly on my lips, wrapping your arm around my neck. "How are you feeling?" I lower my head and look down at my chest. I've been here before, telling you something I know you don't want to hear, and I always dred this moment, but it's imperative that I tell you. "Mattie, my leg. I..I lost the feeling in it last night."

The tears are rushing out of the corner of my eyes and on to the white bed sheets that lay on my lap. You stroke my drooping cheek, wipe away the tears, and let me know everything is alright, that I still have you. "Jamie, can we go away? I need to get out of here." A small smile appears on your face. "Sure, where do you want to go?" I ponder this question for a moment, but the answer comes right away. "Cancun!" I can't hide the excitement in my voice, and you laugh at this. "A little eager, aren't we? But I'll book the reservations as soon as we go home." I smile like a child you just got a great toy in his happy meal, until my doctor comes in to check on me. She introduces herself as Dr. Gionta, and smiles sympathetically.

"Okay James, here's the scoop. You were unconcious for a day after your seizure. Now do you remember how that happened or where you were?" I think back as far as I can, but the only thing I can remember is your face, one year ago. I look at you to help me, and you notice the anguish in my eyes. You reach over and squeeze my hand. My lip begins to quiver as I realize the severity of what has just happened.

"I can't remember. I can't remember anything. I can only remember Mat a year ago." Dr. Gionta puts a caring hand on my arm and tells me that everything will be okay, that symptoms like that are normal. "When you do remember, James, just come and let me know. I'll be in my office down the hall." With that, she smiles at me and shuts the door behind her. I look at Mat, tears clouding my vision. If I can't remember that, what will happen to me in a few years? "Mattie, we need to go there as soon as I get out of here." I tell Mat softly. He doesn't need to ask why; we both know that my time here is limited.

One month later..

Using the metal crutch that Dr. Gionta gave to you after we left the hospital, we finally get onto the plane and find our seats. "Mattie?" You twist your body to face mine. "Yeah?" I lift your arm from your lap and carress your fingers, hoping that the meaning of this action can go unspoken. Your eyes light up and your broken smile dances on your lips. "I love you." Your words come out slurred and unintelligable to anyone but me. It's amazing how three small words can hit someone so hard, break them apart, and fill them with hope all at once. But for now, I'm just counting and trying to desperately remember all of the times you will say those words in the coming weeks.

As you rest your head on my shoulder and softly whisper made up words, I wonder how long you have to live, how much time we will be able to share together. You already told me that when you were going to die you did not want to be placed in the hospital, and that all they could do was hurt you more. I want to be selfish, I want to have you all to myself forever, and not taking you to the hospital will kill you faster. "I just..I want you to myself, Jamie" I whisper in you ear.

I feel you stir next to me as people around us leave the plane and I look at your face full of confusion. "Where are we, Mattie?" Dr. Gionta told us both that at times you may lose your memory, but just to be patient when it happens, so I try my best to be patient. "We're on a plane to Cancun for a vacation." It takes you ten seconds for what I said to register, but your bright blue eyes fill with recognition and my heart's heavy beating slows. I move to stand up and place my arm underneath yours, but your hand slowly takes it off. "I can do it myself, Mattie. I just need a little time." I move into the aisle to watch you slide your soft blue gym bag on down the length of your left arm and watch as it comes to a stand still on your shoulder.

Hobbling toward the front of the plane, I watch you with wonder. The whole of your right side of your body, from your soft eyelids to your long, wonderous toes, is swaying with the movement of your left leg. I can see that your struggling, but like you said to me before, you can do it yourself, though all I want to do is rush over to you, throw you over my shoulder, and eat a Hershey's bar with you.

We walk into the warm, island air and sit down on a nearby wooden bench. Palm trees line the asphalt road that vans and yellow taxi cabs are strategically placed upon. People are rushing about, dragging black rolling luggage and small, tired children. I look over to you and try to imagine what you're thinking about, but desperately fail. You head is propped up against the back of the bench and your eyes are slightly closed. Your breathing comes shallow and deep, and I pray that the reason is that you are only asleep. "Jamie?" I nudge your side gently as I say your sweet name. Your head slowly lowers from its upright position and turns towards me. "I love you, too."

Lying on the beach our second night in Cancun, I am unsure of how to tell you my terrible news. My head is in your lap and the fingers of my left hand are entwined in yours. Your free hand strokes my hair, twisting it into small ringlets. "Mat..Mattie?" With the passing of each day, my words come out less and less intelligable. Your face appears before mine, and I take in your appearance. Freckles have formed on the bridge of your nose and over your soft cheeks and your skin has a healthy glow beneath the pale moonlight. Your eyes are overflowing with love and your forehead is creased in hope. "How did we meet?" I ask you.

The love immediately leaves your eyes and is replaced by dissapointment. I regret ever asking you the question that I should remember so fondly, but I have been racking my brain for the last three days for the answer. You take a deep sigh and begin speaking softly. "Well, we met at a concert, and we both became really great friends. We then decided to create a band, so we put an add in this music paper and we found the other member of our band, Charlie." I interupt you at this point.

"He visited me at the hospital after my first seizure." Your eyes smile and for that I am thankful. "That's right. Well, we released our first single and that went to number two on the charts. And the rest, they say, is history. We've been really successful in Europe, though, and.." You pause and look up to the sky, and I can almost feel the hurt pouring out from your heart. "We were going to tour America this year if you had not gotten sick."

You look me in the eye and I can tell that you expect me to remember everything that you have just said, that all of a sudden the memories are going to come into my brain over flowing, but they do not. I smile to reassure you, but you know me better than that. "Jamie, it's okay if you don't remember. As long as we have eachother, that's the only memory we need.

Sleep hits me like a wave and I immediately feel weak. "Mattie, do you mind if we can go back to the hotel? I am starting to get really tired." You look at me and I can see the concern in your eyes. But you stifle the concern by breaking into a grin. "Anything you want to do, Jimmy." You stand up behind me and put your arm around my waist. I wrap my left arm around your shoulders and you half drag me up the beach and into the hotel.

As we make our way back into our hotel room, I think of all the ways that I can repay you. I go through a mental list of every lovey dovey thing that I have done for you in the past. Making you a song..I cannot speak well. How am I supposed to sing? Send you flowers. Way too Hallmarky. I settle of writing you a letter, letting you know how I feel.

After deliberating for two hours on the balcony of our room while you are inside asleep, I finish my letter to you. No words could express how I feel about you, but I think that I have summed it up the best I could in this letter. I place the letter on the pillow beside you and slip into the covers beside you, falling asleep to the sound of your breathing.

"Mattie?" I heard your soft whisper call my name from the darkness, waking me from a dreamless slumber. I reach over and strok the limp, blonde hair from your eyes. "Mattie, I can't shee veh-ee well. I hink I'm bland" You say it slowly, as if you're unsure of the right words to use. A wave of saddness passes over me. You told me once that once you become blind, your organs will shut down soon after, and I can't bear to lose you now. "M..Maybe it's just because there is little light in here." I stutter. Getting out of bed, I look over at you and your head is facing the ceiling. What if you're right? What if, what if you are blind? I open the blinds and tell you what I've just done. "I shtill ca-can't shay well, Mattie." I lie down on the bed next to you and take you in my arms.

After a minute or two, your head jerks up. "Ca..can we g-go to the be-beesh?" I'm caught a little off guard by what you've just said. "Sure, of course. But right now?" You turn your head so it faces me. "Yesh, you goosh." The half smile that I have seen the past months forms upon your lips. "But my legsh ah-ahn't working well. Can you ca-carry ma down?" I get up out of bed and stand in front of you. I place your legs in the crook of my left arm and rest your head in the crook of my right arm. We make it to the beach, your right arm brushing against my leg.

We walk out of the hotel and onto the beach, where I gently set you down. The moonlight is glistening on your hair, making it look like you had a glow of some sort around you and the ocean water lapping at the tips of your toes, though you cannot feel it. I sit down next to you and I take your right hand in mine. Though I know you cannot physically feel it, I know you can feel this action in your heart.

"I yuv you." You say the words as though I am a newborn baby. Tears slide down your cheeks and fall into the sand. I cannot think of a time where you, or anyone, has looked more beautiful, and I can't believe that I will never see your face again. There was once a time where I took you for granted, where I thought it didn't matter that I didn't see you that day, that I didn't talk to you that day. I want to go back in time, hold you in my arms, and tell you I love you over and over again. I look out over the horizon and can't believe how little time you have left. You'll die soon, but I won't say a proper goodbye.

"Jamie?" My voice cracks as I think of what to say next. I can't stand the silence anymore, and I want, I have to take this moment, one of our last, for granted. "Yesh?" "Jamie, will you dance with me?" Your head turns to face me and I can see the effects the tumor on you. Your right eyelid doesn't stay open well, your right cheek droops, and your lips can only form a half smile. "And h-how will wah manash that wa?" I'm amazed by how this ordeal hasn't affected your sense of humor at all, but you've always been like that, always the strong one.

Standing up, I place my hands under your arm pits and place your left arm on my shoulder. Using the little strength you have, you move your legs so that they are in time with mine. We dance to the music in our hearts; the palm trees are our drums, the moonlight acting as our spotlight, the audience being the fish in the sea. A grin appears across your face and you throw your head back in delight. You've stopped moving your legs and I lift you off of the ground, twirling you in the air. Though the tears are rolling down my cheeks, I can't bear to imagine a more perfect occasion.

Looking back on the last several years we've spent together, I cry more. From the good times to the bad, you've been there for me, and I vow to make a promise to not leave your side these next few days, if there even are days left. You mean the world to me, and I can't bear to lose you. We stop frolicing in the moonlight and we lie down on the beach. I gently carry you over towards me and you rest your head in my lap. I stroke your hair, and kiss your cheek as you fall asleep. Though I know you cannot feel my kiss, I pray that you felt it in your heart. "I love you too, Jamie. I love you, too."

After what seems like five minutes, though it has been much more, I hear you speak. "Mattie, ish time." You say the words softly, as if you've said them many times before, only I know this hurts you as much as it hurts me. I lift you off the ground, not wanting this day to end, my last day with you. I take in everything around us, from the crashing waves on the ocean to the blackened night sky, dripping with sparkling stars.

I want to make this moment last, I need to make this moment last, but I know I cannot. I've been lucky to have you, and I thank god every day that I did. I lay you down on the bed we shared and caress your skin. This can't be real, am I in a dream? But I can hear your and my heart beat and I know that this is real. I kiss your lips softly, knowing that will be the last kiss we share.

Here I go, scream my lungs out and try to get to you
You are my only one
I let go, there's just no one who gets me like you do
You are my only, my only one

Using your last bit of energy, you kiss my hand. "I ya yuh" you whisper to me, your voice laced with tears. "I love you too, Jamie, always and forever." You close your eyes, your hand still on mine. You struggle to get the words out, but when you do, I know that this is the end. I bend down to see if your heart is still alive, if your heart is still beating, but there is only silence. The light dances on your skin and I try to cast this memory, your memory, in stone. As I place your hand on your chest, I think back to your dying words; "Always and forever."

As the men from the morgue come into what was our room to take you away, I lay my head back on my pillow and immediately notice a folded up piece of paper to the left side of my head. Thinking that it is a bill for our expenses in Cancun, I pick it up and toss it across the room, but my eyes settle on two words at the bottom of the folded paper; Love Jamie. I jump off of the bed and pick up the paper, and silently read it, thinking of your memory.

<i>Dear Mattie,

Love James

I fold and refold the letter on the same lines that you folded it on just twelve hours before. I sit and think about you, about how much effort it must have taken you to write this letter, and a feeling of thankfulness washes over me. Some people wait their whole lives to find someone that loves them inside and out.

I may not have always had luck on my side, but it was the day I met you. My life may not have been perfect, but when I was with you, there was not a flaw in sight. I may miss you for the rest of my life, but I know that you will always watch over me; I can feel you here with me right now. Closing the door of our hotel room, I quietly recite a line from the letter you wrote to me. "Thank you for being you."

James' Point of View
I walk behind you as you walk down the empty hallway, watching your legs move mechanically, almost robot like. Running past you so I can see your face, it shows a mixture of saddness and anger, anguish and lonliness. All I want to do is hold you in my arms, kiss you lightly, and tell you everything will be okay, but I cannot. I cannot even touch you, but I can watch you. That is the closest I will ever be to you.

You get into the elevator and drop your bags as your back slides against the carpetted wall of the slowly rising box, bringing you to the apartment that we have shared for the past three years. Tears are silently rolling down your red, blotchy face and your hair falls in your face, unkempt and scruffy. Your arms, skinny and glowing from a tropical tan, are wrapped your legs, hidden by a pair of wrinkled gray sweatpants. Kidding aside, you look like you've never seen a shower in your life, as the stench rising from your body is horrifying.

You suddenly reach out and press the emergency stop button and your head whips up from is hanging position. "Jamie," you whisper hoarsly, as if you drank too many Jack Daniel's. Nothing I say you will be able to hear, so I imitate you my sitting down next to you, my arms clamped tightly around my knees.

Your voice does not change from when you spoke my name, though now it is more pronounced and filled with emotion. "Jamie, I love you and..and I..I don't want to be here without you. I can't be here without you." Slowly, you unzip your large, black duffel bag, rummage through it, and pull out a fresh razor head, never been used. You cannot do this, Mattie. You cannot do this for me. Desperately, I think of ways to tell you how I feel, to get you to put that razor head away. A sudden idea pops into my head and I put my idea to use.

I roll myself into a ball and thrust myself against you, creating a wind so strong that the small blade is knocked out of your tight fist. A frightened look appears on you face and the words you say punch me in the stomach. "Jamie, if that's what you want, for me to stay here without you, I will. Just..just let me do this by myself." I know that I need to leave you, that I should only watch you from afar instead of watching you like I am now, but I can't. The pain is too strong for me when you are asleep. How will I be able to stand it every day? The pain in your eyes lets me know that this will be as hard for you as it is for me.

Slowly, wanting to take this moment, my last moment with you, in, I stand up and walk through the doors of the elevator, through the walls of the apartments adjacent to ours, and into the warm Las Vegas air. A force of nature slowly lifts me through the air and into the sky, as I take my last look at you, my only one.