Sun and Star- High School Solangelo AU

Death

He's been in the hospital for nearly a week now, and his condition is getting worse, I'm afraid. His skin loses colour each day, and his blood, which no longer seeps from the wounds, is running stiller through his veins. I've been watching him now for awhile, a son of the Di Angelo name is no unique company to me. But I must confess, it is sad to see such a young man with a potentially bright future be dimmed like this. 

It's close to midnight, our appointment set for 11:58, when weight settles on the bed I am looking over. Though I cannot truly see the boy so full of life who now sits on this soon-to-be grave, his presence is oddly brightening. The Di Angelo boy's hand glows softly with a promise of life, then small droplets of gold bead onto his skin. The living boy is crying, does he not know his tears are a waste? This, I cannot tell him, for it would take away from the beauty of the scene, but his hopeful sobs are just needless breath. It's 11:56, I could very well take him now, there's no point in waiting. But, I would like to see how this paints out. 

A voice is all I hear, trembling and broken as it reaches out in the few remaining precious moments of the boy's life. The golden boy looks up to me, as if he can see me through this mist. His eyes meet mine with a mixture of fear and acceptance. Does he not know his words are a waste?

He either does not know, or does not care, for his voice continues to carry through the room.  I watch as the boy's tears mingle with the notes, each drop a testament to the depth of his devotion. Tubes and wires connect Di Angelo to the machines that sustain him, but it is the golden boy's song that breathes life into the stillness of the room.

As the song draws to a close, I look once more to the time. 11:58, my appointment has arrived. But as I extend my hand, I hesitate. It is almost as if he is slipping away from me, no longer can I take his hand. The golden boy's light has eased the aura of death around the young man, I am not needed. 

I draw away from the bed, watching the golden light spill into every crevice of this forsaken room. A room where many had died before, where many of those to come will continue to take their last breath, where I was to take another soul tonight, was pushing me away. How could I not realize the my vigil was a waste?

Do not think for a second, dear mortal, that I was thwarted, for you can never thwart death itself. I am one of the true constants in life. But I do believe in fair chances, and in that hospital room, amidst the quiet of the night, the only other true constant in life triumphs over death, and I am but a fleeting specter, a silent witness to the enduring power of love.