"During the story, a character must die. The story must have a rabbit in it."
[From a prompt. 3/3 of homestuck fanfics. I don't own Homestuck, although I wish I did, because 2.5 million dollars would be nice. Comment if you want, but faves are always nice.]
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Dave sniffled quietly as he stared into the coffin, looking into the closed eyes and pale skin of his partner-in-crime, his best friend, his husband. He felt almost like he was a playtoy of whatever God may exist, forcing him to fall down a rabbit hole of misery and remorse.
'This could have never happened,' Dave thought to himself, 'I should have paid more attention.' But he knew he was lying to himself--there was no way he could have known.
It had started simply enough, just a little cough, nothing too bad. "I'll get over it in no time, don't worry!" John had said with a grin. But he didn't. Days went by with him hacking, then weeks, and finally it escalated into a diagnosis of lung cancer after a night of coughing up blood.
They'd caught it too late, and the doctors said there was no hope of a cure, only to make the most of the time he had. Dave tried to hide his distress behind a mask, like always; somehow, John seemed unaffected.
"Well, at least now I don't have to worry about my mid-life crisis, right?"
"Yeah."
Time went by, and Dave watched as the love of his life wasted away before his eyes. Yet he still remained inexplicably happy.
"How?" Dave asked once, driving John home from the hospital.
"Huh?"
"How come you're always so happy? You're weeks away from dying and you act like you don't care." John didn't hesitate in his answer.
"I guess I don't, really. There's nothing I can really do about it, so why be sad about what I can't stop? It'll happen soon, and all I can do is just wait it out."
And eventually, one day, John called Dave at work.
"What's up, love?" Dave had asked, attempting to mask worry.
"Dave, you need to come home. It's time." Dave had never felt more dread at those two words: It's time.
But for some reason, he felt calm, somehow. Knowing that it was going to finally end gave him a comfort that his soul mate wouldn't suffer any more.
Racing home, Dave arrived just in time. John was lying in bed, reading an old magazine. Looking up, he smiled silently. "I love you, Dave. I always will."
"I love you too," he responded, choking up.
"Will you stay here with me?"
"Until the end." With that said, Dave carefully crawled into bed beside John, cradling him until the end.