Word count: 2,251

Prompt is MusicChibi's

“It starts with blisters forming on the back of your hands, more and more, until they burst. At this point, hematomas will form in their place and begin to spread up the arms. As soon as the flu-like symptoms begin is when patients begin to report sensitivity to light and difficulty with small movements, such as using hands or wiggling toes; this will progressively get worse...and...um... as soon as blindness sets in, death occurs in a matter of days, sometimes hours.” The radio played the same message over and over again, the same message from some doctor from one of the hospitals in the city, recorded when the outbreak first began. The message had looped non-stop since a few days after it began... ten years ago.

It was almost ten years ago that scientists specializing in biological weaponology had accidentally created the illness that would result in mankind’s extinction. It began in rats, spreading to bats and pigs before the first death of a human was recorded. Minho and Key were both seventeen. Within a week, millions were infected. Minho and Key stole a car and fled the city, as per their parent’s instructions. Upon finding an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, they each unpacked their three duffel bags and settled down. The illness was airborne; the big cities died off within weeks, yet here they were almost ten years later.

“It’s almost like we’re married.” Key had mused. Minho rolled his eyes. It was the closest they were ever going to get.

~~~

That winter was freezing, ‘record breaking’ they would say, were they still concerned with such matters. It was on one such day that their fragile existence began to fray - it was the beginning of the end.

Music was playing from their old radio while they danced in the kitchen . Key spun in slow circles in the middle of the room, holding Minho’s hand to keep balance, when he noticed something different. His twirling stopped abruptly. “What’s that?” he asked, running his thumb across the back of the other’s normally smooth skin. There were little bumps, barely noticeable if you didn’t pay attention.

“What do you mean?” Minho questioned back, fighting to keep his voice from shaking.

“Your hand feels different...” He continued to trace the pinpoints that ran across his knuckles. “See?” He held his own hand next to it to compare.

The taller male stared, shocked.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” the blonde comforted, feeling something akin to dread in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe you just ate something funny and had an allergic reaction.”

A strained smile surfaced. “You’re probably right.”

The problem was, they had been eating the same things for years; there was nothing new that Minho could be allergic to. Neither of them dared to say it out loud. 

Later that day, the rash had grown into full out blisters, swelling so rapidly that it pained him to move his fingers.

“It didn’t change that much,” Key insisted, massaging his hands in an effort to ease some of the pain.

While he was massaging, one of the blisters burst.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing” Key repeated, more for himself than Minho’s benefit, cleaning off the fluid with a dishrag. “This isn’t happening.”

Key was awoken early one morning to muffled sobs coming from the other side of the bed. He sat up, disheartened by what he saw. Crawling over to his side, he pulled the boy into his arms.

“Shh,” he cooed. “It’s okay; it’s going to be okay.”

"I love you," Minho sniffed, "but it's not."

“Key,” he mumbled into his shirt, his sobs having quieted considerably.

“Hmm?”

“My throat hurts.” He lifted his face to give an apologetic look. “Can you make me some tea?”

“Of course,” he nodded, settling him against the pillows then standing up.

Wandering into the kitchen, he set the kettle to boil. As he leaned back against the counter something caught his eye; upon further investigation, he found it was the wall they had painted together back when they first escaped.

“Key!” a gangly brunnette called as he walked through the door. “Look what I found!”

The object of his call turned from the window, curious. “What is it?” he asked, cautiously walking over to inspect the metal cans scattered on the floor.

Minho grinned, clearly delighted with his findings. “I thought the place could use some brightening up.” Noticing the confused expression on the other’s face, he bent down, prying open one of the cans. “See?” He stepped back to allow for a clear view.

Blue glistened from the container, begging to be used; purple, green, orange, red, yellow, and pink also made an appearance.

“We’re going to decorate?” Key confirmed, a slow smile spreading across his features.

Paintbrushes were produced and the painting began. The boys flung paint every which way across the wall, then added handprints for accents.

When Key returned to the room after washing paint out of his hair, he found that Minho had drawn ‘M+K’ in the middle of a heart.

They were young, the reality of their situation had yet to fully sink it. It was one of the happiest memories he’d had after the outbreak.

The kettle screeched, knocking him out of his daze. He fumbled for a mug, pouring the correct amounts of milk, hot water, and honey into it before bringing it back to their shared room. He passed Minho’s ‘masterpiece’, taking a moment to stare at it. The wallpaper was beginning to peel and fade, but the paint was as bright as ever. He smiled.

“How are you feeling?” He spoke softly so as not to disturb him. He was graced with a sleepy smile as the tea was accepted, but he noticed the slight tremble of his hands.

“I’m alright...sorry you had to see that.” The taller boy acknowledged in embarrassment.

        “It’s fine,” he assured. “It happens to everyone.”

        They lapsed into comfortable silence, the only sounds being the small slurps of tea being drunk. He set his mug down on the bedside table. 

“Key...?” He sounded hesitant as he spoke.

        He immediately looked up, concerned by his tone. “Yes?”

        “Do you think I’m going to die?” His eyes were clear and determined.

        “I don’t know,” he answered, monotone, in an attempt to hold back his emotion.

But he was going to die, there was no question. It was more a matter of when than if, but neither of them had begun to accept that reality yet.  

        “I don’t - I don’t want to die yet. I’m not ready.” His voice caught in the middle.
       

Key sighed, leaning his head in the crook of his neck. He listened to Minho’s labored breathing even out as he fell asleep; only then, did he allow himself to cry, hot tears staining his cheeks and dripping onto the sheets.

It was then that his heart broke for the first time.

~~~

“Close the curtains, would you? My eyes kind of hurt... I want to sleep.” Minho rolled over in bed to avoid the early morning sun streaming in through the windows.

Key found it was getting harder to deny Minho’s worsening condition. Minho had always been a morning person; he loved morning sunlight, often dragging him out of bed for jogs or walks. Now, it was all he could do to stay awake for more than two hours at a time.

“Minho, what about watching a movie?” Key suggested, doing his best to keep a sense of normalcy.

He nodded.

He helped his friend up, guiding him into the living room and onto the couch, turning on the television. His mind, however, wasn’t on the movie; all he could think about was how long they would have together.

He leaned his head in Minho’s lap one evening, just enjoying each others company. Hands ran through his thick locks, pushing them back from his eyes.

“Why do you do that?” he asked the brunette.

“Do what?” he asked, continuing to move hair from his face.

“That.” He placed a hand against his as it touched his hair again.

“Does it bother you?”

“No, I’m just curious.”

“I like to see your face.” He caressed his cheek, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re perfect.”

“But I’m sick,” he sniffled, pouting. “How is that perfect?”

“You’re you, and that’s what makes you perfect, sick and all.”

A warm finger brushed away a tear that had unconsciously fallen. He could see just moving his fingers had caused a lot of effort, which only served to change his crying into full on hysterics.

“What’s wrong?” a familiar voice asked, concerned.

He turned his face into the taller boy’s chest, inhaling, trying to calm himself down. “I’m sorry,” he blubbered. “I don’t want you to see this...it’s not fair.”

“Shh...” He rubbed his back, pulling him closer to himself. “It’s fair; if something’s wrong you can tell m-.”

And Key kissed him for the first time since he’d been sick, pouring every bit of emotion, everything he couldn’t say into every press of his lips against Minho's.

"Bum, don't." Key pulled back, hurt. "You'll get sick."

"I'm going to get sick anyways. Better sooner than later." He paused. "I don't want to live without you Minnie. I don't know how."

Minho sighed, giving in. He leaned forward, placing his lips against his, letting the heat that passed between them say it all. Fear, anxiety, regret, joy, and love, all out in the open, begging to be touched. They needed this, to be able to have a moment where time stopped, where the only thing that mattered was the other.

Hours later, they found themselves lying in their bed, legs tangled comfortably as they cuddled under the covers. Minho’s chill had gotten worse and they were doing everything they could to keep him warm. Even so, they could see it was a fruitless effort, as they were under every blanket they owned and he was bundled in wool socks and flannel pajamas.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispered, lips near his ear.

A hand found his, lacing their fingers together. “It’s not your fault.” Key fell asleep soon after, going limp as his body relaxed.

“It is though,” he muttered to himself in the dark. Watching the other’s face, peaceful in sleep, he realized how much he was going to miss him. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears before they escaped.

        One tear managed to slide from between his eyelids, cascading down his cheek before landing in his lap.
        “I’m so sorry.”

~~~

The sun wasn’t even up when Key shifted out of bed and downstairs to make breakfast the next morning. He searched the cupboards of non-perishable food they hoarded, trying to find something appropriate for breakfast.

“KEY!” he heard Minho shriek, after prying open a can of baby corn.  

“WHAT!” He yelled back, sounding angrier than he should’ve as he stomped back up the stairs. “I was making breakfast couldn’t you have just wait-” He turned into the hallway and saw him with both hands braced on the wall staring blankly ahead.

“You there?” he asked, eyes unmoving.

“Uh...Yes?” It sounded more like a question.

“Oh,” he said, still staring, “I can’t see you.”

“I’m right here what are you talking abou-”

“No, I mean, I can’t see anything,” he sighed. “I got up and I couldn’t find you. I almost had a heart attack.”

“You’re an idiot,” he laughed. “Besides, if you can’t find me, I’ll always find you.” He took his hands from the wall and led him downstairs and onto the couch.

“That sounds really creepy, to be honest.”

“Shut up and let me be romantic.”

      
“Alright, alright,” He held his hands up in surrender. “Come here.” His voice went soft as he spoke. “If I can’t see you with my eyes, I want to see you with my hands.”
      
He stepped forward, kneeling so they were the same height. He closed his eyes as his thumbs gently slid past his cheekbones, following the natural curve of his cheeks until he reached his lips. His index finger traced around his pout, his own lips turning up in a half smile as he did.

“There’s so much I wish I could’ve done differently,” he murmured wistfully, taking a shuddering breath as his lungs clenched painfully, already beginning to restrict his oxygen supply. “I would’ve asked you to marry me.”

He leaned his face into his palm, biting his lip. “I met you,” he whispered passionately. “It’s enough.”

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against his, closing his unseeing eyes. They stayed there for a moment, just soaking in the moment.

Suddenly, he was gasping.

“Minho!” Key called frantically. “It’s okay; stay with me. Can you hear me?!” The other boy keeled over, leaning on his shoulder.

No response was heard as his eyes bugged out from lack of air, his body spasming uncontrollably. His head lolled to the side. “K...ey -” His chest heaved rapidly, his whole body beginning to go limp in his arms.

“Please, Minho, don’t go yet.”

He made a choking noise; he closed his eyes, unable to watch. When he opened his eyes, Minho’s eyes were glassy, reflecting the ceiling. A tear rolled down his cheek as his heart broke for the last time. He passed a hand over his eyes, closing them. Looking at his hand, he noticed little dots across his knuckles.

“I’ll see you soon.”

hey ^^

I hope you all liked the story :3

If you are subscribed to my other fics, this is just a warning that I'm probably not going to be able to update this week except for the Minkey Drabble Collection because school ~

Chai should be updated within the next couple weeks (sorry!) depending on mine and my beta's schedules

And just an fyi, I have a new fic which should be up by the end of the year, except I need your help for one thing:

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