The Day the Laughter Stopped

(Luna’s POV)

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and sadness. It’s the kind of place where laughter feels like a sin. I never liked it, and I told Elior that once. He just smiled and said, “Then I’ll make you like it someday.”

But today, there was no smile waiting for me.

He hadn’t answered my messages since last night — no random jokes, no silly photos of the sky, nothing. At first, I thought maybe he was sleeping. But when his sister texted me early this morning, asking if I could come, my chest tightened.

I ran all the way here.

Now I’m standing outside his hospital room, my hand frozen on the doorknob. Through the glass, I can see him lying on the bed. Pale. Smaller. His oxygen tube rests beneath his nose, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

For a moment, I almost turned back. I wasn’t ready to see him like this. I wasn’t ready to face the truth I’d been pretending not to know.

But then I remembered his words: Don’t hide from the storm.

So I went in.

The sound of the heart monitor was the first thing I noticed. The steady beeping felt like a countdown I couldn’t stop. His eyes fluttered open when he heard the door. When he saw me, he smiled weakly.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice softer than usual. “You look like you ran a marathon.”

I tried to smile, but my lips trembled. “You didn’t reply. I got worried.”

“Sorry,” he said, wincing slightly as he tried to sit up. “My phone died. Or maybe I did for a minute — I’m not sure.”

“Don’t joke about that,” I said sharply.

His eyes softened. “If I stop joking, you’ll start crying.”

I looked down, my fingers tightening around the hem of my sleeve. “You look worse.”

He shrugged lightly. “It’s just a bad day. It happens.”

“Liar,” I whispered.

He didn’t deny it. He just reached out, his hand cold but gentle when it touched mine. “Sit with me?”

I pulled a chair close, my throat tight. He leaned his head against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I used to think death would scare me. But it doesn’t. What scares me is leaving behind people who’ll hurt because of me.”

“Then don’t leave,” I said before I could stop myself.

He smiled — a soft, fragile thing. “If only it worked that way.”

We stayed silent for a while. I could hear the rain starting outside, tapping softly against the window. The same kind of rain we danced in a few days ago.

He turned his head to look at me. “Hey, Luna… do you regret meeting me?”

The question hit me like a blade. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m temporary.”

My chest ached. “So am I,” I whispered. “You’re just the first person who made me realize that doesn’t mean we can’t matter.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he smiled faintly, eyes glistening. “You make me want to live more. You know that?”

“I should be the one saying that,” I replied, my voice cracking.

He chuckled weakly. “Guess we’re both saving each other, huh?”

The nurse came in a few minutes later to check on him, telling me he needed rest. I nodded and stood, but before I left, Elior called out softly, “Luna?”

I turned.

“If I ever can’t make it to one of our plans,” he said, his smile trembling, “promise me you’ll still go. Live for both of us, okay?”

My eyes burned, but I nodded. “Okay.”

He closed his eyes then, still smiling, as if the promise was enough to let him sleep peacefully.

I stood there, watching him, realizing something I hadn’t wanted to face — this boy who wanted to live was teaching me how, even while he was slowly slipping away.

And I hated how much it hurt to love someone who was running out of time.

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