Work Text:
Today, Chance was cleaning out his attic. Outside, rain patters down, steadily against the roof, each drop a reminder of the storm outside. A shiver runs down his spine, and he rubs his hands together quickly, trying to gather some warmth. He continues working, clearing out the place, even as dust rises. He drags the old boxes across the creaky floorboards, each movement stirring the stale air. He coughs sharply, waving his hand in front of his face until the haze clears.
But one box catches his eye—it’s old, unfamiliar, tucked away in the far corner. Curious, he steps closer, and pulls it forward. He lets the dust settle, and crouches low to inspect it. The cardboard is clearly aged, with its corners sagging, but still intact. Inside, layered between folders and scraps of yellowing paper, rests a photograph, kept carefully between the sheets.
It’s a photograph of someone smiling. Chance exhales quietly, and lowers himself fully, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His fingers sift through the box, until they brush against something delicately wrapped in tissue paper. He unfolds it slowly.
There's… a bracelet inside. It has silver beads strung together, with a small sun and moon charm dangling at the end. A smile tugs at the corner of Chance’s lips, and his eyes close as he begins to recall the memory.
He had just gotten out of an abusive relationship with iTrapped. The breakup had done a number on him—it left deep scars, wounds that refused to heal—and a heartbreak he so desperately wanted to forget. All that remained from that wreck was his old camera, lost and forgotten. The pain and grief gnawed away at him from the inside, until it became too much. One night, he had raised a gun to his temple, ready to end it all. But instead of death, he was met with darkness.
When he woke, he was in a hospital room. Bandages around his wrists, with machines beeping from every corner. A ceiling with sterile white lights, too bright to bear. And worst of all—the realization he had survived.
Later that night, he felt restless. And so, he found himself wandering the halls. Against his better judgment, he went upstairs, searching, until he found himself on the roof.
The edge called to him. One step forward, and the pain would finally end. He gripped the railing, staring down at the dizzying drop below.
It would be so easy.
"Hey there… Are you alright?”
A voice called out, startling him. He spun around, his heart skipping a beat. He had expected it was a nurse, coming to scold him. Instead, it was another patient—his hospital gown fluttered in the breeze, and his eyes were filled with concern.
The man tilted his head, then spoke, his voice calm but firm. "You should be careful…”
"Leave me alone," Chance muttered. "It’s none of your business."
The man hesitated for a moment, before continuing to speak. "You’re right, it isn't. But if you do it… what about the people who care about you?"
Chance let out a bitter laugh. "No one cares about me. I lost that person a long time ago." He turned away, his grip tightening on the rail. "Now go."
But the man didn’t move an inch. He remained there, unfazed by Chance’s cold words. "No, I won't. I don’t think you should—after all, there’ll be a solar eclipse tonight."
Chance blinked, clearly thrown off. "What?"
The man looked up, towards the sky. "It doesn't happen very often… it’ll be beautiful. You should come watch with me instead.”
Chance’s shoulders slumped. He scoffed in frustration. "Why are you…? It’s nothing much. Why do people even care about it?"
Finally, the man stepped closer, the evening wind breezing his hair. "Maybe you don’t think much of it, but… there are people who care, even if you feel it's insignificant. And you—" His eyes met Chance’s, unflinching. "You might think you’re alone, but out there… someone still cares."
He extended his hand to Chance, an open invitation. "It’ll be cold soon. Let’s go back inside, where it’s warm."
Chance stared at the hand, conflicted. Part of him wanted to vanish back into the dark. But something—perhaps the warmth in the man’s voice, perhaps the stubbornness in his stance—couldn’t help but draw him in. He lifted his hand, trembling as he accepted it.
After all… what was one more day?
That’s how Chance met Elliot.
Days passed. They became closer almost quickly, hitting it off. At night, they would sneak out of their wards, just to climb up to the rooftop and watch the sky. Chance found out that Elliot loved the stars—that he had dreamed of going into space, and seeing the world beyond.
One night, when the vast sky stretched wide above, Elliot had asked him softly, "Do you have any dreams?"
Chance stared into the horizon, rubbing his neck sheepishly, at a loss. “Well, I used to. I always dreamed of becoming a pianist… But I’m not very good, so I gave up on that a long time ago.”
“Well, I don't think you should give up,” Elliot murmured, before taking their hands in his. "It’s still a dream worth chasing after.”
But Chance turned away, avoiding their gaze. "Maybe…"
Then, Elliot smiled faintly, and went quiet. His fingers curled even tighter around Chance’s. "I… can’t chase mine—not anymore."
Chance tilted his head. "Why not?"
"My condition." Elliot faltered, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It’s… getting worse. The doctors say I don’t have much longer."
Chance’s face went pale. “Oh…”
Shit. What the fuck do you say to that?
He hesitates, swallowing the rising lump in his throat. He shifts slightly, uncomfortable, before running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I just—”
He bites his lip. “...I don't know what to say.”
Elliot leans against Chance, his shoulders slumping in a quiet resignation. "It’s… okay. I know you mean well. I wouldn't know what to say either."
Then, he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I know that death will come for me soon. I mean… it comes for us all. It’s just—"
"Why must it be now? Why must it be so early? I didn’t do anything wrong. All my life, I’ve tried my hardest—maybe I made some mistakes, but still—what did I do to deserve this?"
His eyes glisten with tears. He hugs his knees to his chest, his voice trembling. "I want to be with my family… I want to grow old, and feel what it’s like to actually live. I know my Dad means well, but…"
“I must be nothing more than a burden in their eyes.”
Chance leans closer, brushing a strand of hair from Elliot’s forehead. "Don’t say that. I’m sure they don’t think that way—they’re just worried about you."
“Maybe…” Elliot pauses, then rocks slightly, pressing his cheek to his knees. "How can the world be so cruel? I’ve barely experienced it, and still... I want to travel, see the stars, everything—but I’m restricted to the confines of my own bed—forever trapped in this hospital."
He swallows hard, the gaze in his eyes remaining distant. "The end isn’t long, Chance. And still… I can't help but struggle to accept it.”
"All my life, I always thought if I worked hard enough, everything would be okay. But now, knowing I’m dying, I just… can’t accept it. Knowing that I could die any day… Everything just all feels so meaningless. One day, I could be smiling… the next day, I’m gone."
Elliot looks away, and his voice drops to a whisper. "Well… I’m scared, Chance. I’m scared that I’ll forget about my family, my friends, and… you…”
"I don’t want to forget…"
Chance wraps his fingers around Elliot’s gently, and their eyes lock with his. "It’s okay to feel angry, or afraid… But all of your memories, they aren't meaningless. You matter, Elliot.”
"I’ll… help you remember. I won’t let you forget—I’ll be with you, every step of the way."
Elliot blinks, stunned at their words. "You… will?"
"Yes. I promise."
Elliot smiles softly, then rests his head against Chance’s shoulder. "Thank you…"
A tear slides down his cheek. Chance wipes it away, then pulls him closer, embracing him fully. Elliot lets out a soft wail, then finally breaks into a sob, his shoulders shaking. And throughout it all, Chance holds him, letting Elliot cry his heart out, pouring out every fear and sorrow. They stroke his hair gently, whisper soft reassurances, and simply stay by his side.
That night, Chance quietly promises they will always be his side—that he will never let go.
More time had passed since then. He had begun to see Elliot less, except for the occasional visit. But one evening, Elliot had appeared at the doorway of Chance’s room, waiting. Chance was sitting upright in bed, his camera at his side, idly running his thumb along its edges.
When he realised Elliot was there, he quickly glanced up. They were leaning against the frame, breathless but smiling. They walked forward, before tugging at the sleeve of his gown.
"I’ve been waiting for this all day—Let’s go!"
Chance chuckled softly, before getting off the bed. He slung the camera over his shoulder without thinking, then followed.
But before they reached the rooftop stairs, Elliot stopped. His hand dipped into his pocket, before pulling out a small grey pouch. "I made something for you."
"You did?"
"Yeah." Elliot nodded, glancing around nervously. He opened the pouch. "Now, close your eyes, and give me your hand."
Chance hesitated, then obeyed. He shut his eyes, extending his palm. Elliot’s fingers brushed his own, a fleeting warmth, as something cool and smooth pressed against his skin.
"You can open them now."
Slowly, Chance opened his eyes. A bracelet glimmered in his palm—it was made of silver beads strung carefully together, accompanied by a sun and moon charm at the end.
Elliot looked away, suddenly shy. "It’s a friendship bracelet… I made it for you." He lifted his wrist, revealing another—this one threaded with gold beads, the same sun and moon charm gleaming. "Look… we’re matching!"
Then, his smile faltered. "It’s just… something for you to remember me by. Just so you don’t forget me, after I’m…"
He trailed off, but Chance already knew what he wanted to say.
After I’m gone.
Something twisted painfully inside Chance’s chest. "Don’t say that—I won’t ever forget you."
Elliot finally looked up. “You promise…?"
"Of course. Cross my heart." Chance traced a line over his chest, sealing the vow.
Elliot let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry for getting so emotional, haha…"
But Chance waved him off gently. "Don’t worry about it." He offered his hand out to them. "Now, shall we?"
Elliot’s fingers slipped into his. Hand in hand, they climbed to the rooftop. It was cold tonight. The night air bit at their skin, but the view alone made it worth it. The full moon hung heavy above them, its soft glow spilling a silver light across the sky.
It remained in the sky, almost like something unattainable. For Chance, it was the memories he could no longer bear to remember, the joy he had once chased after. For Elliot, it was mourning for the life slipping through his fingers, yet also a quiet gratitude—that he still had some time left—just like tonight—to enjoy.
Elliot lifted his hand, pointing upward towards it. "It’s so far…"
"You see it?" He asked softly. "The moon’s as fulfilled and as happy as I am, just from being with you."
Chance laughed gently, nudging him with his shoulder. He leaned closer to them, enjoying their warmth. "Awww. How sweet."
Elliot turned, studying their expression carefully. “I still think you should chase after your dreams, Chance. I’d like to hear you play one day.”
Chance rubbed his thumb against the bracelet. He chuckled under his breath, his cheeks warming. "Alright… Don't get your hopes up, though.”
And just then, the sky lit up—the meteor shower had begun. Elliot’s breath caught, and he watched on in awe. But Chance wasn't watching the sky anymore—he was looking at Elliot.
The way his mouth parted in wonder. The way the light sparkled in his eyes. How his smile outshone the stars raining above, radiant in its glow.
"Elliot," Chance whispered.
Elliot turned. "Hm?"
Chance raised his camera. "Smile!"
A soft laugh bubbled from Elliot’s lips, nervous and warm. But he did.
Click!
The shutter snapped, and the camera hummed, whirring softly as a photo slid out.
Chance handed it over, but Elliot shook his head, pushing it gently back into his hands. "You should keep it.”
He had wanted to protest, but Elliot had insisted he should keep it, and so he did—carefully kept the photograph away. “I’ll always treasure it.”
A moment of silence passes. They grow quiet as they continue to watch the sky. And finally, Elliot speaks.
“Sometimes, I feel afraid."
He threads their fingers together, keeping them close. “But as long as I have you…"
"I think that things will be okay."
Elliot’s hand lingered in Chance’s, warm and tentative. His cheeks flushed pink, and his gaze dropped to the ground.
"Chance… I… I think…" His voice wavered, faltering, before he whispered, "I love you."
Chance’s heart skipped a beat. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I love you too, Elliot."
Chance leaned in, erasing the distance between the two. Elliot’s breath hitched, and he didn’t pull away—he stayed, letting them inch closer.
“Can I… kiss you?”
Elliot’s eyes widened, then softened, realising the weight of his words. He turned his head slightly, embarrassed, but his fingers remained curled around Chance’s hand as if he was afraid to let go. And finally… he nods.
And so, Chance slowly pressed his lips to Elliot’s. Their eyes fluttered shut, and his hands rose to wrap around Chance’s waist, pulling him closer with a quiet urgency. Chance cupped Elliot’s face, their thumb brushing over his cheeks, feeling his warmth. Elliot leaned into his touch, sighing softly, content—he sinks into the kiss, letting the world around them fall away.
Above them, the stars continued to dance across the sky. It was just the two of them—two souls, clinging onto each other. And in that moment, underneath the stars, Chance made a wish.
I wish this would last forever.
But he knew the truth—it wouldn’t. All good things must come to an end.
Inevitably, Elliot’s health declined—until he could leave his bed. Chance stayed by his side throughout it all, never leaving—he was so, so afraid of what was to come.
That tragic day, it rained like never before.
He remembered how quiet the room was, except for the beeping of machines. How pale Elliot had looked. His breaths had become shallow, and his chest rose with too much effort. And yet through the pain, he still managed a faint, fragile smile. "Thank you… for being here, Chance. For letting me love you."
Chance remained quiet, his lips quivering.
"I’m scared," Elliot whispered, his voice cracking. "I don’t want to die. You… won’t leave me, right?"
Chance’s hand tightened around Elliot’s, holding him still. They bent closer, resting their forehead near his temple. "No… I’ll always be with you.”
Elliot’s eyes shone with unshed tears. "I… love you, Chance."
Chance pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I love you too, Elliot."
For a long moment, Chance held him close, clinging onto him—to a warmth he would never feel again. He stayed there, feeling the shallow breaths slow and falter. And then—silence.
Elliot was gone.
You, who gave your love so freely… you never deserved any of this.
Chance sat in the quiet attic, the rain tapping steadily against the roof. His hands still trembled, the warmth of Elliot’s skin fading from his memory but lingering in his mind. He wiped a tear that had slipped down his cheek, feeling the salt sting, and set the photograph gently on the worn wooden floor.
Life is fleeting, and I long to grasp these pieces, to stop them from slipping through my fingers. But no matter how hard I try, they will eventually pass. And I must accept that truth—things cannot last forever. The only constant in life is change. But still, can the world fault a man like me for resenting the inevitable? For wanting him to stay, to see him smile one more time?
But alas, he cannot change the past.
Chance’s fingers traced the beads of the bracelet Elliot had given him, the silver beads cool against his palm. The sun and moon charm glint faintly under the light.
“I promised,” Chance whispered, voice barely audible over the rain. “I promised I’d live… I’d live without regrets.”
He pressed the bracelet to his chest, closing his eyes, imagining Elliot’s smile, the warmth of his hand in theirs. Finally, he pulled away, and fastened it around his wrist.
His phone buzzed beside him. Chance picked it up, staring at the screen, and for a moment—it was a reminder for a piano audition he had signed up for weeks ago. He turns it off, then glances back to look at the photograph. He stares at it, then picks it up, committing the image to memory. Carefully, he tucks it into his blazer pocket, keeping it away safely.
“Goodbye, Elliot…”
He rose slowly, his knees weak, and took a step toward the attic door. Chance inhaled deeply, feeling the bracelet against his skin, a reminder of everything he had lost—and the person he had once loved.
I’ll never forget you.