This genre is a first for me.

There is a mention of 9/11 in this, I don't wish to offend. Also, impossible medical conditions.

Alfred Franklin Jones will die in five years, nine months and seven days.

He doesn't know it yet, of course. For now he is just a college student studying astrophysics in some nameless American city. Some day he'll be an astronaut, he decided a long time ago. Some day he'll get out of this place; not just the country but the whole world, and he'll be floating around in space looking down at the continents and it'll be just perfect.

(He won't make it, of course, but he doesn't know that yet.)

It will be two minutes and forty-seven seconds until he meets Arthur.

Alfred is walking around campus aimlessly, having finished his last class for the day. He is restless and does not want to be cooped up in his dorm room. Hopefully he will be able to find Ivan or Lars and they can have a game of basketball or arm-wrestling or anything fun. Light, unimportant thoughts fill his head as the sun does to his eyes.

He is halfway to the gym when he hears a voice straight out of a James Bond movie.

He spins on his heel and stares. There is a boy standing just five feet away. He is short and slight and somewhat delicate-looking beneath his smart shirt-and-slacks combo. The foreign guy (whose accent is not nearly as posh as Alfred first thought, although it's still really fucking sexy) seems to be in the middle of an argument with that guy Alfred vaguely recognises from his dorm ('Tonio something-or-other). Alfred pauses to listen, and from the friendly exchange manages to pick out the words "green", "what do you know", and "best bloody M&Ms that ever bloody existed".

This makes him smile. M&Ms are Alfred's thing. He loves them almost as much as he loves Mars Bars, and that's saying something. Without thinking too hard, he butts in, like he always does.

"Red M&Ms are the best!" he calls out a little too loudly. Several passersby spare him a curious glance, while two heads whip around to stare at him incredulously.

"Sorry?" says Tonio. Alfred smiles winningly and invites himself over.

"Red M&Ms. Are the best. Just thought you two foreigners should know."

There is a sniff and a harrumph and Alfred turns around to look at the British kid with the cute accent, stares into his face and decides that he likes what he sees. Fair skin, heart-shaped face, chapped, pink lips, freckles, a nose that looks like it's been broken one or seven times and big, green eyes that remind Alfred of the toxic waste they liked to draw in those cartoons he used to (still does) watch on Saturday mornings.

But those eyebrows, God.

"I don't remember inviting you into the conversation," says the mysterious kid and suddenly his way of speaking is a lot more sophisticated and a lot less cockney than it had been thirty seconds ago. Alfred wants to come up with a witty retort but he is distracted by the patches of hair trying to take over the stranger's face.

"You should probably get those waxed or something," he finds himself saying.

And he discovers that the scrawny British kid has a mean left hook and that Tonio guy has a really annoying laugh.

The next day Alfred finds the British kid sitting alone on a bench with his nose in book. Alfred's own nose aches a little bit in memory of the other's fist, but he quickly covers his apprehension with a smile. He bears in his right hand a McFlurry with two spoons, and in his left he has a napkin because he tends to spill when he eats.

"Hi," he says, sitting down next to the young man without waiting to be invited. His next words come out in a rush because the kid's staring at him disdainfully and it's making Alfred nervous, and when Alfred gets nervous he tends to go off on a tangent.

"I'm really sorry about yesterday, totally didn't mean what I said, your eyebrows are really cute and they suit you. I'm Alfred and I guess you must be in the same year as me since you were talking to that Toni guy from my dorm and well I brought you this as a peace offering, it's only got red M&Ms in it because those are the best. It costs sort of a bomb to get them to pick all the red ones but I'm pretty tight with the guy at the Mickey D's down the street and here." He stops himself before he can ramble some more and holds the ice-cream out nervously. Green eyes stare down at the treat suspiciously before snapping back up to narrow curiously at Alfred.

"There are two spoons," he says, and Alfred shrugs.

"Figured we could share it."

The Briton watches him impassively before shrugging. "His name is Antonio; his room is next to mine," he says nonchalantly before reaching down to pick up a spoon. He shoves some ice-cream in his mouth and Alfred notes with some annoyance that not a single drop of it is spilled. "And I'm Arthur."

"Cool," Alfred beams, because this person -Arthur -has accepted his apology and maybe they can be friends now. "So are the red M&Ms the best thing you ever tasted or what?" he asks.

It takes Arthur a moment to respond. "The green ones are still the best," he says and he finally cracks a smile.

Their first date is on a Saturday. Alfred takes Arthur to a fair. It's nice and they both have a lot of fun. They get some strange looks when they decide to ride the merry-go-round, with Alfred pretending to be a space cowboy and Arthur laughing despite himself, but they're both a little disappointed when the date comes to an end and they have to get back to their separate rooms. Arthur kisses Alfred on the cheek with a promise to see him soon.

On their second date they play with the water guns that Alfred finds lying around his dorm (they're really Gilbert's, but Alfred doesn't think he will mind). Arthur thinks it is childish but he goes along with it anyway, and soon enough half the dorm gets involved and it turns into a free-for-all. Gilbert goes a little crazy with the water hose and the friendly game turns into a friendly war, with Antonio and Gilbert leading one team and Arthur and Alfred leading the other. Alfred smiles and remains jovial, but cannot help the shrill cry of victory that escapes him when his team finally wins the impromptu match. He also cannot help giving Arthur a triumphant kiss on the lips while everyone is looking. Arthur turns scarlet and nearly punches Alfred for this, but later on in the privacy of the changing rooms, he confesses that he's actually rather fond of Alfred and would like to meet up again sometime.

Their third date is uneventful. They go to an art gallery to do something Arthur is interested in, but it turns out to be sort of a cop-out and the two leave the exhibition halfway through the tour (Arthur will later kick himself for this when he realises that he could have seen a replica of the Mona Lisa, which he has never seen up-close. He will continue to be annoyed about it until Alfred goes out and buys him a print of the Venus de Milo. It's not really what Arthur wants but he accepts it anyway with a genuine thank you and a smile). They catch a movie which is entertaining but unmemorable and get a quick bite to eat.

The real magic happens later that night at Arthur's room, for which they are thankful because Kiku has tactfully decided to go board with his Chinese cousin for the night and they both know that Ivan is probably already asleep in Alfred's room. Shy snuggling turns into breathless kisses which turn into something more, and the date actually ends the next day in a tangle of limbs and morning sunshine. Arthur is embarrassed because they probably made a lot of noise and Antonio and Gilbert, who share the room next door, will never let him hear the end of it. He cheers up considerably when Alfred tells him that the showers are probably empty since it's nearly lunchtime (they've already missed two classes) and they end up taking a shower together.

Things continue to be happy and peaceful as time progresses. Alfred learns many things about Arthur. He learns that the man has three half-brothers and one baby brother, all of whom he hates, and that his nose has been broken a total of four times (three times by his brothers and once from being hit in the face with a football. Alfred did not believe that Arthur played football until Arthur showed him a picture, at which Alfred laughed obnoxiously and told Arthur that it was called "soccer". Arthur punched him for that.) He learns that Arthur talks like a cockney, but can do a good Oxford accent when he wants to impress someone (or make Alfred a little hot under the collar).

Arthur learns that Alfred is wonderful at making videos, which he will do from time to time to surprise Arthur with. He learns of Alfred's twin brother, who passed away when they were very young, of pneumonia (Alfred has a tattoo of Matthew's name on his shoulder). He also learns that Alfred is useless at tying a tie, which frustrates Arthur because he himself is incapable of making a tie perfectly straight and this drives him crazy. Alfred tells him that he doesn't care if Arthur's tie is crooked, because Arthur will be lovely no matter what he wears. Arthur goes a little red at this and mutters something under his breath, but he allows himself to be kissed.

They get through college without much trouble. Alfred has his basic degrees and he wants to go further. Arthur wants to try out an internship at a publishing house, working as an assistant editor to give him some experience before he tries his hand at writing books.

After having dated for three odd years, Alfred takes Arthur out to a nice dinner one day and leans over to hold his hand in the middle of dessert. "Iggy," he whispers (that is another thing he learnt early on; Arthur's middle name is Ignatius. It means fire, which Arthur thinks suits him. Alfred just thinks it's cute).

"Let's get a place together," he says, and for a few seconds Arthur is speechless and doesn't know how to reply. Eventually he smiles wider than Alfred has ever seen, and he may or may not have tears in his eyes as he says yes.

They get an apartment in the city. It's nice, although strange because of Alfred and Arthur's combined tastes. Their bedroom is the worst. It's full of posters of superheroes and movie stars and rosewood furniture and old, dusty tomes. It's mismatched but it works, just like them.

They're happy for a year or so. Alfred's in a good university and Arthur's finished his internship and has started on his manuscript. Life is slow but pleasant, and although the two of them bicker like an old married couple they get along just fine where it counts. They have lost contact with most of their friends from college apart from Kiku, who is a mutual friend, and the Bad Touch Duo, Gilbert and Antonio. Ivan has gone off to some big city to become a lawyer. They both think it doesn't really suit him, but they say nothing about it to his face.

Alfred's a patriotic soul, and sometimes he and Arthur get into fights about the greatness of the United States. Alfred thinks he's one of the luckiest people alive to be a citizen of America. Arthur thinks he's being a bit silly. Alfred eventually shrugs it off and says that he loves his country and there's nothing Arthur can do about it. Arthur only rolls his eyes and says that he'd better not put America ahead of Arthur.

And then 9/11 happens.

The country is in an uproar. Alfred and Arthur sit glued to CNN, watching in horror as the towers fall. Alfred is livid. "How could they do this? Three thousand innocent people!" he rants and rages at no one. Arthur only stares blankly ahead. He can't bring himself to accept it.

Alfred wants to join the army. He, like many others, wants to fight, wants to right the wrong that has been committed against them. Arthur tries to convince him not to go but arguing with Alfred in this state is like throwing a teacup at a snowstorm.

"They don't want you," he says, pulling desperately at Alfred's sleeve. "You're gay. They don't want you. Stay with me. Don't leave me alone."

Alfred turns around and grabs Arthur, kissing him fiercely enough to bruise. "Don't ask, don't tell, remember?" he says every time. "I'll keep it a secret. I have to do this for my country. I'll come back to you, I promise."

"Don't make promises you don't know you can keep," Arthur whispers, but Alfred is already on the way to enlist and Arthur's alone in an empty apartment and all of a sudden he's filled with dread that he might never see the love of his life again.

Alfred leaves for the frontlines after training for only two months. Arthur sees him off at the airport. The air is sombre and men in military apparel stand around with grim determination. Arthur wants to kiss Alfred goodbye but he can't in front of the others. Instead he lets his tears run freely and shakes Alfred by the hand. Alfred tells him that he loves him and that he will come back. Iraq won't get the better of him.

He pulls Arthur in for a quick kiss when he's sure nobody's looking. "I love you," he whispers, and turns to walk away.

"Please come back in one piece," Arthur tries to say but his tears are choking him.

Alfred will die in a year and five months. Till then, life goes on.

Arthur begins to lose some of the panic that wells up inside him when he thinks of Alfred, although the underlying worry will always be there. Alfred writes long letters home telling stories about how they don't actually fight, mostly sit around doing paperwork and other boring things. Arthur is secretly glad for this, although Alfred appears restless. At least he knows, for now, Alfred is safe.

He finishes his manuscript and starts the long, tedious back-and-forths with his editor (who is a bit of a bitch, not that Arthur would ever say that to her face because she is good at what she does and she points out a lot of the flaws that Arthur didn't even know he had). Arthur has written about love, about a sad boy who falls in love with a girl who later leaves him. It's an underlying fear, he thinks. He worries Alfred will die on him. He does not want to end up like the boy in his book, broken and scarred. He is not religious but for Alfred he prays.

Alfred sends him a lot of photos. Usually they are Polaroid. Arthur's favourite is framed and sitting on the mantlepiece. It is of Alfred, without his camouflage, in his bunker. He wears a happy smile and is holding up his very first medal, which he got for rising from the ranks of Private. He is now First Class Private Alfred Jones. He wants to be a sergeant.

Arthur doesn't really know what to make of this. He likes that Alfred is enjoying himself, and that the army is treating him quite well instead of being the grueling, trying prison he thought it would be. Alfred likes to write about his friends and tell Arthur about all the things he sees. He tries to avoid the sadder things, but Arthur sees them anyway under all the sweet words. Alfred likes the army and he likes serving his country, but he doesn't like fighting a war in a place so full of civilians.

Arthur doesn't really care as much as he should. He just wants his lover home.

Alfred gets shot sometime in February.

Arthur doesn't know about it. He is sitting in his living room one day with his bitch editor when the doorbell rings. He gets up to answer it, glad of the chance to be away from her for a little while.

Alfred is standing at the door. He is in crutches. Arthur hasn't seen him in nearly a year.

Arthur's teacup shatters. "Alfred?" he whispers, wondering if this is just another of his dreams come to haunt him. He takes in the ragged, weary smile and how much older Alfred looks since Arthur last saw him. He looks at the crutches and the medals on his boyfriend's chest and tears begin to sting his eyes, unbidden.

"Hey," says Alfred, and his voice is hoarser, lower.

Arthur throws his arms around him and nearly topples them both over.

Arthur leads Alfred inside, gushing away excitedly while Alfred laughs. The bitch editor excuses herself after a quick hello, able to see that the two deserve to have some time alone. Arthur finally calms down enough to brew some coffee with shaking hands and sits with Alfred, curling up close to him without even intending to. Alfred welcomes him with open arms and a smile not quite as dazzling as it used to be.

"I got shot," he explains. "I sent you a letter. Told you I was coming home. They gave me an honourable discharge. I suppose you didn't get it."

Arthur shakes his head; the last letter he's received from Alfred is dated two months ago, and although he's written several more since then, he hasn't heard much since. Alfred shrugs.

"Don't matter," he says with a grin. "I came home, just like I promised."

Less than five months to live.

He has nightmares. Alfred has them, not Arthur (although some nights of Arthur's are far from pleasant). He wakes up in a cold sweat sometimes. Arthur is usually awake to hold his hand and soothe him back into fitful slumber.

But Alfred still dreams. He has seen many things he wishes he hadn't. He has done many things he wishes he hadn't. Sometimes he freezes in terror without ever knowing why. The sound of a war-cry he doesn't understand and a gunshot resounds in his head, and then he is on the ground and trembling and Arthur is in his arms, cooing and cajoling and whispering to him that it's alright, love, don't cry, I'm here, nothing's going to happen, you're safe, I love you.

Post traumatic stress disorder, or something. That's what the shrink says. Personally Alfred feels pretty blah about the whole thing. He has meds to keep the anxiety down, although he'd never want to take them if Arthur didn't make him. They make him feel a little weak, but not in the physical sense. He's war-hardened and back in the arms of his lover. He should be grateful, not a nervous wreck.

Arthur doesn't seem to mind. He is ever-patient even though Alfred has trouble walking (he fell down sand dune and broke his leg in a few places after he got shot). He is wonderful, Alfred thinks, a brilliant man that Alfred doesn't deserve. Arthur tells Alfred that he's done his duty, he's finished his part in the war against terrorism. Arthur tells him that he's a hero. It's a nice thought.

But now, it's time to move on from that. Arthur suggests going back to school. Alfred likes this idea quite a lot. His chances at becoming an astronaut are probably nil, seeing as he can barely walk properly, but he still wants to work at NASA. Arthur helps him decide where to go, how to arrange things so he can pick up where he left off. A new chapter in his life seems to have opened up and Alfred finds himself to be quite content.

Less than four months left.

Arthur finds Alfred doubled up on the carpet, clutching at his heart. He panics, snatches up the phone and calls an ambulance, and then rushes to kneel at Alfred's side and tries to find out what's wrong. Alfred can't seem to talk to him. "It hurts," is all he can say. "It hurts."

The ambulance gets to the apartment within ten minutes. Alfred is carried off on a stretcher and Arthur follows along in the ambulance. Both his face and Alfred's are ashen. Alfred squeezes his hand nearly hard enough to break Arthur's fingers but Arthur doesn't even feel it. His head and chest feel empty because all he can do is stare into Alfred's pleading, pained eyes and he wants to believe everything will be alright but something tells him that things are going to fall apart pretty damn soon.

How long does part of a bullet have to be lodged in your heart before someone notices?

Six months, seems to be the answer. Arthur should sue. Is it even possible to sue the military? It was their doctors that missed this vital piece of information. Maybe he should sue the hospital currently taking care of Alfred. They don't want to operate on him. They claim it's because the shard is lodged all the way in a major artery and is the only thing stopping any fatal internal bleeding. If they operate, Alfred will likely bleed to death on the operating table before they can stop it. But by leaving it in there Alfred will get poisoned, surely and steadily, by the lead in the bullet. There's nothing they can do, they say, but Arthur knows, oh Arthur knows.

Maybe he should sue Alfred for making him fall in love with him. But that doesn't seem fair, because Alfred fell in love too, didn't he? He's the one lying in the hospital bed with pale, gaunt cheeks and a hollow smile. But Arthur hurts so much more, knowing he will be the one left behind.

It takes a while before Alfred is stable. Finally it gets to the point where it is only a matter of time until the poison in his blood kills him. It's killing Arthur, too. Every day he is at his lover's bedside. He doesn't care much for the well-wishers and sympathetic visitors who come in to pay their respects.

The army gave Alfred a medal. Took pictures and stood and smiled as Alfred lay dying. And Alfred, the idiot, said that he'd do it all again if given the chance, even if it meant facing death a second time. Arthur had never wanted to kill anything so badly in his life.

Alfred is strangely calm about the whole thing. His parents, whom Arthur begrudgingly allows to spend some alone time with Alfred, visit often. The nurses sometimes come in and tell Arthur to go home and get some rest. Sometimes he doesn't, sometimes he does.

He lies in Alfred's bed one day, staring at the sickly green walls as Alfred's chest rises and falls weakly beside him. They are both on the verge of falling asleep. Alfred's weak, raspy voice suddenly brings him back to wakefulness.

"I wanted to marry you," Alfred whispers so softly that Arthur can't tell whether the words are for him. "I wanted to marry you and live on a farm somewhere with a little blonde kid named Matthew, after my brother. I was gonna give you my grandma's wedding ring."

Arthur takes a deep, shuddering breath as he tightens his grip around Alfred's middle, but not enough to hurt him. Alfred chuckles, softly, wheezingly. "Whaddya say, Iggs?" he asks. "You wanna get hitched?"

It takes Arthur all of point three seconds to say yes.

Two months left.

They hold the ceremony in the hospital. Alfred gives Arthur his grandmother's wedding ring and his parents give their blessings. Arthur's own parents died when he was quite young but his brothers come to see him anyway. They are oddly sombre even though Arthur knows that had these been normal circumstances, they would have arrived at his wedding drunk and started crying about giving their baby brother away (except for Peter, who would have stuffed himself silly). Alfred is a Catholic and Arthur isn't anything in particular, so instead of being awkward around a vicar they just call Ivan, who is happy to marry them off although there is deep sadness in his eyes.

Gilbert and Antonio show up from whatever corner of the world they have been in. Gilbert's younger brother and his boyfriend and his brother, who is also Antonio's boyfriend, show up with gifts and copious amounts of food. Arthur wears a suit with a slightly crooked tie and Alfred is in his military uniform, useless badges sitting pretty and polished on his chest. The uniform doesn't fit him anymore; it hangs off his frame because he is thin and the bridesmaids are nurses and the doctor is watching Alfred's heart monitor while it happens and why doesn't anyone see how wrong this is?

The tears start falling when he is halfway through his vows. Ivan asks him if he would like a minute and Arthur shakes his head resolutely, going on with his maudlin prose even as his voice cracks and his brothers listen with downcast eyes. Alfred smiles at him warmly and recites his own vows, telling him that he will love him for as long as God keeps him on this Earth (and Arthur doesn't really listen because this just isn't fair).

"I do," he says when Ivan asks the famous question. Alfred repeats the same on his end. They are now legally married after having loved each other deeply for about five years.

It will take one month for death to do them part.

There is nothing more they can do for Alfred. They send him home, saying that it would be best for him to spend his last few weeks in comfort (what comfort can be given to a dying man?). A nurse comes along from the hospital to stay in the guest bedroom should Alfred need any help. The bitch editor hasn't called in three months (maybe she's given up on Arthur, or maybe she's not such a bitch after all and she's just giving him time).

Arthur hardly ever leaves the house now, spending all the time he can by Alfred's side. Alfred grows weaker by the day. He sleeps a lot and seems disoriented. His smile gets dimmer and dimmer, as do his eyes. He is a far cry from the ray of sunshine he used to be.

Still, Arthur stays by him. Even as Alfred starts, gently, to talk about what Arthur will do once Alfred is gone, a small part of Arthur hopes that his hero will hang on. If only for his sake, Arthur hopes Alfred will recover. His intellect knows it won't happen. His heart prays.

Alfred dies today.

Arthur lies by Alfred's side after a night of lovemaking (which involves Arthur leaning over Alfred, kissing him slowly and softly so as not to disturb the wires and tubes connected to him. He doesn't bother undressing either one of them, only palming Alfred gently through the boxers he wears. Arthur himself remains flaccid despite Alfred's best, pained attempts. He soothes Alfred with more kisses and tells him not to worry, he'll be fine, get some sleep).

His fingers trace patterns on Alfred's skin. He is pale now, paler than Arthur, all skin and bones and empty smiles. He can't imagine how painful it must be to be slowly poisoned to death, to feel life slip away more and more as time goes by (then again, Alfred has no idea what it must be like to watch the love of your life die a little every day. Or maybe he does. Arthur is, after all, dying with Alfred). He thinks of wills, and of how to tell Alfred's parents when the time finally comes. He thinks of his wedding ring. He thinks of Matthews and funerals and wonders how on Earth he can bury Alfred while Arthur wears a crooked tie, because Arthur's no good at tying them on himself and the nurse isn't much help either.

Ten minutes till Alfred dies.

"I love you," Alfred whispers to him suddenly. It startles Arthur.

"I thought you were asleep," he says first, and then berates himself. "I love you too," he quickly adds. He feels more than sees Alfred's smile.

"I know I've put you through a lot by making you marry me. But, can I ask you one more thing?" Alfred asks. His voice is so soft now.

Arthur sits up. He doesn't really want to hear it but he asks anyway. "What is it?"

Alfred slowly, painfully reaches up to cup Arthur's face in his hands. "Bury me next to my brother," he whispers. "And then, forget about me. Move on. You don't need me anymore."

Arthur feels the tears spill from his eyes. "I don't want to make a promise I can't keep," he whispers back.

(Five minutes)

"You have to try," Alfred pulls him down to give him a kiss goodbye. "Tell my parents I love them, and I'm sorry. It's a terrible thing to have to bury your children."

"I love you," Arthur sniffles.

Alfred kisses him.

(Two minutes)

Arthur breaks away, sobbing. Alfred pulls him close and rubs a hand on his back soothingly. "Will I always be your hero?" he asks.

"Always," Arthur chokes. "Always."

(Thirty seconds)

"I guess this is goodbye then, huh?" Alfred tries to smile. "Thank you. For everything."

"Don't go," Arthur pleads, clinging to Alfred's shirt like he did so long ago (how long exactly? A year? A decade? Or more?)

(Ten seconds)

"Don't forget me." Alfred's eyes begin to shut. His grip on Arthur's shoulders tightens and for a moment, just for a moment Arthur can fool himself into thinking that the touch is strong and comforting and warm like it used to be.

(Five seconds)

"I love you."

(Four seconds)

"I love you."

(Three)

"I love you."

(Two)

"I love you."

(One)

"Goodbye."

(Zero)

Alfred's heart finally stops.

Overwhelming silence. Arthur rests his head on Alfred's chest, taking a deep breath to get the smell of him one last time. He knows he will keep all Alfred's old things and possibly never move out of the apartment. The ring burns on his finger. He feels numb.

Movement. The nurse rushes in and starts to fuss, telling Arthur to please move, sir. Arthur can only lie there and stare at the walls, thinking of how his tie will be crooked tomorrow. His mouth opens itself on its own accord and of you listen hard enough you might hear one final, broken whisper.

"You used to be so…big."