The night was quiet, almost too quiet, as Edward sat in his small, dimly lit living room, sipping a glass of red wine. A single lamp cast a warm glow over the old photos scattered on the wooden coffee table. Outside, the rain tapped softly against the windows, a steady, soothing sound that usually helped Edward sleep. But tonight, sleep felt like a distant memory, chased away by memories of a past he couldn’t shake. He took another sip, enjoying the taste, when a sudden knock at the door broke the silence.
Edward’s heart skipped a beat. Who could be visiting at this hour? He set down his glass and walked to the door, the floorboards creaking under his bare feet. Looking through the peephole, he saw a man standing in the rain, drenched and shivering. There was something about the way the man stood, slightly hunched as if carrying a heavy burden, that tugged at Edward’s heart.
Edward hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door. As he opened it, the man looked up, his deep-set eyes clouded with pain. His clothes clung to his muscular frame, soaked from the rain. He had a rugged, handsome face, but his skin was pale, hinting at illness or exhaustion.
“Can I help you?” Edward asked, his voice both cautious and concerned.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the man said, his voice rough and barely a whisper. “My name is Henry. I don’t have anywhere to go tonight. Could I stay here, just for the night? I promise I’ll leave in the morning.”
Edward’s instincts told him to say no. Letting a stranger in at this hour was risky, especially in a city where trust was hard to come by. But there was something in Henry’s eyes, a look of desperation that softened Edward’s resolve. Seeing a man like Henry, strong and seemingly tough, begging for shelter — it was a sight that touched Edward deeply.
Edward nodded slowly. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let Henry enter. “You look cold. Let me get you a towel.”
Henry stepped inside, dripping water onto the hardwood floor. Edward quickly grabbed a towel from the bathroom and handed it to him. Henry’s hands shook as he dried his face and hair. His eyes moved around the room, noticing the simple furniture, the scattered books, and the photos of Edward with friends and family.
“Thank you,” Henry said quietly. “I’ve been walking for hours. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Edward suggested, motioning toward the couch. “You look worn out.”
Henry nodded, moving slowly, like each step took all the strength he had. He sank into the couch, his broad shoulders slumping. Edward could see the exhaustion on his face, the worry lines around his eyes.
“Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?” Edward asked.
“Tea would be nice,” Henry said, his voice barely a whisper.
Edward went into the kitchen, his mind racing. Who was this man? Why had he come to Edward’s door on such a miserable night? As he boiled water for tea, Edward couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Henry’s story, something he wasn’t telling.
He returned to the living room with two steaming mugs of tea and sat down beside Henry. They sipped in silence for a few moments, the warmth of the tea spreading through their bodies, driving away the chill of the night.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Edward asked gently, breaking the silence.
Henry stared into his cup, as if looking for answers in the swirling liquid. “I’ve been sick,” he finally said. “Cancer. The last few months have been really tough. My wife… she left me when I got diagnosed. Said she couldn’t handle it. I guess I’ve been on my own since then.”
Edward’s heart ached at his words. He knew all too well the pain of being left behind when you needed someone the most. He reached out and put a hand on Henry’s arm, feeling the tension in his muscles.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Edward said softly. “At least not tonight.”
Henry looked up, meeting Edward’s eyes. In that moment, something unspoken passed between them, a connection born of shared pain and loneliness. Edward felt his own heart beat faster, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the tea.
Edward smiled, his hand still resting on Henry’s arm. “You don’t have to thank me. Just get some rest. You look like you need it.”
He led Henry to the guest room, a small but cozy space with a single bed and a dresser. Henry sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes half-closed from exhaustion. Edward noticed the slight tremble in Henry’s hands, the way he swayed a little as he sat down.
“Henry, you’re burning up,” Edward said with concern. He put a hand on Henry’s forehead, feeling the heat coming from his skin. “I should call a doctor.”
“No,” Henry said quickly, his voice sounding stronger now. “I’ll be fine. I just… just need some rest.”
Edward hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. But if it gets worse, I’m calling someone.”
He turned to leave but something made him stop at the door. A feeling, a pull he couldn’t quite explain, drew him back to Henry’s side. He looked at Henry, saw the pain and fear in his eyes, and made a decision.
“I’m going to get some water and a sponge,” Edward said. “You’ve got a fever. I’ll help you cool down.”
Henry didn’t argue as Edward left the room and came back with a bowl of cool water and a sponge. He knelt beside the bed, dipping the sponge in the water and gently wiping Henry’s forehead, neck, and arms. Henry’s eyes closed, a sigh escaping his lips as the cool water soothed his feverish skin.
Edward’s hands moved slowly and carefully over Henry’s body. As he wiped away the heat, he felt something stirring inside him, a mix of sympathy and something deeper. He couldn’t ignore the attraction he felt for Henry — the way Henry’s muscles tensed and relaxed under his touch, the way his breathing changed with each stroke of the sponge.
Before Edward realized it, his hands were shaking. He set the sponge aside and looked down at Henry, who was watching him with eyes half-open. There was a vulnerability in Henry’s gaze, a silent plea that Edward couldn’t ignore.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against Henry’s forehead. Then, without thinking, he kissed him. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but it sent a rush of electricity through Edward’s body. Henry’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached up, his fingers threading through Edward’s hair, pulling him closer.
The kiss grew deeper, becoming more intense, driven by the unspoken need they both felt. Edward climbed onto the bed, his body pressing against Henry’s, feeling the heat of his feverish skin. Henry’s hands moved over Edward’s back, his touch sending chills through Edward
“Edward…” Henry whispered against his lips, his voice filled with desperation.
“I’m here,” Edward answered, his voice thick with desire. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They undressed each other slowly, taking their time, savoring the feel of each other’s bodies. Edward’s hands traced the shape of Henry’s muscles, touching the scars that hinted at past struggles. Henry’s fingers brushed lightly over Edward’s skin, gentle and careful, as if he might break.
The night stretched on, the hours blending into a blur of passion and soft-spoken words. They held each other close, their hearts beating in sync, finding comfort in the warmth of each other’s arms. As the first light of dawn peeked through the curtains, Edward felt a tear roll down his cheek.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone. And as he held Henry close, he wondered if, maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to heal the wounds that had brought them together.
The first light of dawn came through the curtains, filling the room with a soft, golden glow. Edward lay on his side, watching Henry sleep. His eyes traced the line of Henry’s jaw, the dark stubble against his pale skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The fever had passed, but Henry still looked fragile, like he might break if touched too hard. Edward’s heart ached with a strange tenderness, a deep need to protect this man he had just met.
Henry stirred, his eyes slowly opening. For a moment, he seemed confused, as if trying to figure out where he was. Then he saw Edward, and a small, tired smile spread across his face.
“Good morning,” Edward whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from Henry’s forehead.
“Morning,” Henry replied, his voice rough from sleep. He reached out, his fingers lightly touching Edward’s cheek. “Last night… was it real? Or was it just a fever dream?”
Edward took Henry’s hand and pressed it against his chest. “It was real,” he said softly. “Every part of it.”
Henry’s eyes filled with tears he hadn’t let fall yet. He took a shaky breath, his hand trembling against Edward’s skin. “I don’t know what came over me,” he admitted. “I haven’t… I haven’t felt like that in such a long time. I thought I was done feeling anything.”
Edward’s heart ached. “We don’t have to talk about it now,” he said gently. “We can just take things one day at a time.”
Henry shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “No, I need to tell you. You deserve to know.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I haven’t told anyone this, but… I’m dying, Edward. The cancer… it’s terminal. I’ve tried every treatment, every drug, but nothing’s worked. The doctors say I have months, maybe even less.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and hard. Edward felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He knew something was wrong, but hearing Henry say it out loud made it so real.
“I’m so sorry, Henry,” Edward said, his voice cracking. “I wish there was something I could do.”
Henry reached up and gently cupped Edward’s face in his hands. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he said softly. “You gave me a night of peace, of feeling… alive again. That’s more than I could have asked for.”
Tears slipped down Edward’s cheeks. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Henry’s, their breaths mixing in the space between them. “Then let me give you more,” he whispered. “Let me stay with you, for as long as we have.”
Henry looked into Edward’s eyes, a mix of hope and fear in his gaze. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to have to watch me die.”
Edward kissed him, a gentle, lingering kiss that was full of promises and unspoken dreams. “I’m not afraid,” he said. “I just want to be with you, Henry. I don’t care how long we have. I want to make every moment count.”
Henry closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek. He pulled Edward close, their bodies pressed together, hearts beating as one. For a long time, they just lay there, holding each other, finding comfort in simply being together.
Days went by, turning into weeks. Edward and Henry settled into a routine, a fragile sense of normalcy that kept the looming fear of death at a distance. They spent their days talking, sharing stories about their pasts, their dreams, and their fears. Edward learned about Henry’s life before the cancer — how he had been a successful architect with dreams of designing skyscrapers that reached the sky. Henry talked about his wife, who had left him after his first diagnosis, unable to handle having a sick husband. He spoke of the anger and bitterness that followed, the feeling of betrayal that left deeper scars than any knife ever could.
Edward shared his own stories too, of growing up in the quiet suburbs, and about his career in journalism that he once loved but had grown tired of over time. He talked about his own failed relationships, of the men who had come and gone, leaving behind only broken promises and empty nights. He told Henry about the loneliness that had settled deep inside him, the fear that he would never find someone who really understood him.
In each other, they found a comfort neither of them had expected. They laughed together, shared quiet moments of happiness, and held each other through the tough times. But even as they built a life together, there was always a shadow over them, a ticking clock counting down the days they had left.
One night, as they lay in bed, Henry turned to Edward, looking serious. “I need to tell you something,” he said quietly. “Something I’ve been keeping to myself.”
Edward felt a pang of worry. “What is it?”
Henry took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Edward’s. “I’ve been in touch with my wife,” he admitted. “She reached out a few weeks ago. She said she wanted to see me, to make things right before… before it’s too late.”
Edward’s heart tightened. “And what did you tell her?”
“I told her no,” Henry said firmly. “I told her I had found someone who truly cared about me, who didn’t leave when things got hard. I told her I didn’t need her anymore, that I had found my peace.”
Edward’s fear faded into relief. “You don’t need to explain,” he said gently. “I trust you.”
Henry’s eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for being here, for standing by me.”
Edward kissed him, a deep, lingering kiss that was full of love and commitment. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Not now, not ever.”
The weeks turned into months, and each day felt like a precious gift they treasured. But as summer gave way to fall, Henry’s condition got worse. The cancer spread, draining his strength, leaving him weak and confined to his bed. Edward took care of him, watching over him day and night, never leaving his side.
One cold October morning, Edward woke up to find Henry’s breathing shallow, his skin pale and clammy. Panic gripped him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He held Henry’s hand, whispering words of comfort, telling him he was loved, that he wasn’t alone.
Henry’s eyes slowly opened, a faint smile appearing on his lips. “Edward,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
“I’m here,” Edward said, tears streaming down his face. “I’m right here.”
Henry’s fingers tightened around Edward’s hand. “I love you,” he whispered. “I… I’m sorry…”
Edward shook his head, his heart aching. “Don’t be sorry. I love you too, Henry. More than anything.”
Henry’s breathing grew more labored, each breath a struggle. Edward held him close, feeling Henry’s heartbeat slow down, his body becoming still. The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, a soft, rhythmic echo that seemed to go on forever.
Then, with one final, shaky breath, Henry went still. Edward felt the life leave his body, the silence that followed ringing in his ears. He held Henry close, his heart breaking, overwhelmed by a grief so deep it felt like it would swallow him whole.
The days after Henry’s death were a blur. Edward moved through them like a ghost, his world feeling empty and gray without Henry’s presence. He arranged the funeral, a small, intimate ceremony attended by a few friends. Henry’s wife had sent flowers, a gesture of her sorrow, but Edward couldn’t bring himself to care. His heart was too full of pain, too heavy with the weight of his loss.
Standing at Henry’s grave, Edward felt the tears come again, a flood of grief he couldn’t hold back. He knelt down, placing a single white rose on the grave, his fingers brushing against the cold, hard stone.
“I’ll never forget you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You gave me a part of yourself, a part I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. Thank you, Henry. For everything.”
As he stood up, the wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain and earth, reminding him of the night they had first met. Edward closed his eyes, letting the wind wash over him, a gentle, soothing balm to his broken heart.
He knew the pain would never fully go away, that Henry’s absence would be a wound time couldn’t heal. But as he turned to leave, he felt a flicker of hope, a small, fragile light that promised healing, that promised life.
He would carry Henry’s memory with him, a light to guide him through the darkness. And as he walked away from the grave, the first drops of rain falling from the sky, Edward knew that he would find a way to live again.
For Henry. For the love they had shared.
For the life they had built together, no matter how brief it had been.
