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15.

Hashirama:

I wasn't allowed out of hospital until the day after. We took the bus back to my place. He clung to my arm all the way back, and I leaned my cheek on his soft head. I wasn't allowed to drive, but I asked Madara if he wanted to take the bus with me to the big supermarket and do some grocery shopping. I knew he liked that. He gave me the smallest smile and my heart melted. So we went in the dark evening and it was so worth it, because as we walked through the aisles, Madara got the slightest skip in his step, choosing ingredients for me to cook dinner with while I pulled a shopping cart in front of me.

"Green or red apple? I'm making apple crisp", I said. Madara literally squealed.

In the middle of it all, Madara's phone pinged. He looked at it, then became dead silent.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He just showed me the screen. It was from the gallery owner:

"Sorry big, big, big night was cut short. I hope huge gay boyfriend is okay. You sold big painting with flower and hand before night end. Congratulations! Let's work together even more in future. Tell me if you need something."

I smiled. "Congratulations!"

At home, Madara burrowed himself in a large, soft blanket on my couch, facing me while I stood in my kitchen, chopping, frying, slicing, mixing, spicing. From time to time, he would come up to me, stand behind me and hug me, breathing in my scent.

"I love you", he would say. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too", I would answer, hugging his familiar body close to mine.

I set the table so we could sit opposite each other, but before Madara seated himself down, he took his plate and placed it next to mine instead so that he could touch me with his shoulder the entire dinner. My heart melted. We ate in amicable silence. I'd made pumpkin soup with roasted chickpeas for starters, crispy bakes tofu on rice with a sweet and sour sauce, soy sauce and salad for main and apple crisp with a home-made egg- and dairy-free custard for dessert. Madara ate with a great appetite, something I noticed he always did despite how he felt. It made my soul sing.

Full and happy, we curled up in my sofa, both of us under the blanket, to watch The Great Gatsby. Madara wouldn't know, but I barely watched the film; my eyes were on him the entire time. God, I loved this man. I loved him so, so much. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. Which is why...

"Madara, we need to talk about something."

He turned to me, looking worried. "What?"

I smiled. "Don't worry, I promise it's not bad, it's just..."

Madara waited patiently.

"I wrote my will last week. I'm leaving all my savings to the university, to be able to give more scholarships each year. But..." I stroke a stray strand of hair away from his gorgeous face. "I've left this apartment to you."

Madara swallowed. "No", he said, shaking his head. "You can't do that."

"I can", I said warmly. "And I want to and I'm going to. Whether you want to stay or sell it to buy another place is up to you, but it will be yours. So you don't have to worry about a deposit anymore."

Tears were streaming down Madara's face. "But I don't want your apartment! I don't want to benefit from your death! I want you alive and here and holding me and traveling the world with me and fucking me and-"

"Shhh", I interrupted softly, placing a finger on his soft lips. He had some lip gloss on, so my finger became a little sticky. It was adorable. "We will do what we can while I'm alive. But truth is, I will die, whether we want me to or not. And I want to give you this opportunity." Madara had become silent, listening intently. "Also..." I sighed. This was a big reveal. "I bought the big painting." Madara inhaled sharply. "That's why I spoke to the gallery owner when you went to meet your parents." I was waiting for him to telling me off, for tricking him, but instead, he threw his arms around me. I smiled and hugged him back.