She liked it best when he was asleep. His oh so tight grasp on her would loosen in his slumber and she could turn and watch him for a while. His eyes twitched through his lids, his brain still working ten to the dozen. No amount of sleep seemed to cure the ever present bags under his eyes though, made worse by the recent months.
She was getting worse, not better. She knew this and it had been confirmed only days ago by her doctor. There wasn't any further options. She had a few months, maybe even a year. Spencer had broken down in tears, promising her that they'd find a new treatment, that she could get better. But she didn't want this anymore. All the drugs had put her body through hell without ridding her of the disease that was going to take her life. There were days when she couldn't move without vomiting, days when she felt like she wanted to peel her skin off her limbs because it itched so much. Then there were the days when she felt nothing but sadness, then nothing but anger. Angry with the universe, angry with the fates.
How dare they present her with this beautiful man, then a year later riddle her body with illness. Four of their five years together had been spent fighting this. After two years she'd told Spencer it was over, he deserved a healthy woman, someone he had a future with. Someone with whom he could actually live a life with rather than spend their days in hospital rooms. But he'd fought back, he loved her and he knew she loved him, he wasn't leaving her. So they'd continued on, him comforting her, sometimes the other way around. Together, they were invincible he told her.
She look over at his sleeping body, memorising every inch of his face not that she needed to. She knew every part of him, every particle of his being, every single piece of him. Which was why she knew what she had to do. Carefully she slipped out of bed, wincing at the ache in her body. It was a good ache though for the most part. She'd done everything she could to make tonight special. Taking her anti nausea meds so they could eat his favourite take out meal, and taking extra strength painkillers so she could experience him once more, the weight of his body on hers and his gentle touch. Blowing him a kiss she left the room quietly and made her way to the bathroom.
She found them easily, using a tampon box as a hiding place was an excellent idea, one she'd found online when she'd visited forums for other sufferers who were contemplating the same choice. One by one she swallowed them down, praying that her body would consume them easily, the way it had consumed so much of her. When the bottle was empty and her heart was racing like a race horse running the race of it's life she returned to the bedroom. Pulling the letter out, she placed it on her bedside cabinet before easing back under the covers and entwining her hand with his. She felt him squeeze it, a content sigh leaving his chest almost as if he'd forgotten, at least in sleep.
She turned her body towards his watching his chest rise and fall as her eyes grew heavy and a fog fell over her. That horrid feeling one had when they'd just come around from an anesthesia, except in a strange way this was the reverse. She wasn't waking up, she was going to sleep. Her last thoughts before her eyes closed were off him.
Of all the good times they'd experienced in their first year together. Of all the love they'd shared. Of how perfect and how brilliant he was, and how he deserved so much more than this. She didn't want the long drawn out, painful goodbye that she knew would come. Because she knew he would beg her to hold on. And she couldn't, not any longer.
She was doing the right thing. She was doing it because she loved him so much, and she knew that he loved her too much to let her go.