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The last months with Peter flew by. We went to 7 different doctors after the fight, but they all said the same thing. That we were too late. He didn't seem to be upset after the 5th doctor. He seemed to accept his fate, although I never did. Peter stopped going to school 2 months after the first diagnosis. He stayed in bed most of the time, struggling to make it to his bathroom. I was always at his side, ready to help him with anything. Peter's medicine would make him lose weight and make him very tired so he would sleep most of the day. His ivory skin seemingly became even paler with time, and his eye bags grew larger. But he kept smiling. Somehow. I didn't understand at first. I mean, he was dying. I asked him one day, and he responded weakly with, "I'm upset. I truly am. There is so much I'm missing out on. College, friends, growing up in general. But I look back on the life you gave me, and I'm happy that I was able to experience that. I wish I could stay longer, but if this was how I am supposed to go, then I have to let it happen. But please," he grabbed my hand. "please don't be upset. You did the best you could do. I want you to take some time off work for mourning, and then I want you to meet someone. Someone who you can connect with. I want you to love them so much, that you want to start a family, whether you adopt like you did with me or not." Peter let out a small yawn "Is it okay if I rest for a bit? I'm just, you know, like super tired." He laughed. "Okay. I love you." I whispered. He smiled. "I love you too."

Peter spent his last month in a wheelchair. It seemed to make it easier for him, as he would move around a lot more, but it would always be a struggle getting it down the stairs. He would talk about how his head would pound, and how it would hurt to walk. It hurt his eyes when he was in a bright room, and he felt nauseous all the time.

Finally one day it ended. He was laying in bed, in so much pain, and he just fell asleep. He never woke up. I was with him for his final moments. He had tears streaming down his face from the agony of it. He knew what was happening. We both did. "Dad..." He whispered. I rushed to his side. His soft brown eyes were glazed over. "I-i think it's time... I'm so sorry." He started bawling. I held him close, soft tears running down my face as his soaked my shirt. "Shhh, shh. It's okay. You can let go. Do you want me to play the song we used to listen to when you were younger?" I sniffled. He nodded and let out a whine. I commanded the AI system to play the song at a low volume so it wouldn't hurt his ears. The music started playing and Peter looked up at me.

When you were here before

Couldn't look you in the eye

You're just like an angel

Your skin makes me cry

A tear rolled down Peters' cheek.

You float like a feather

In a beautiful world

And I wish I was special

You're so frickin' special

"I love you, dad. I wish I could stay longer..."

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here.

"But I can't. I just can't."

I don't care if it hurts

I want to have control

I want a perfect body

I want a perfect soul

"It hurts too much. My head, my everything."

I want you to notice

When I'm not around

You're so frickin' special

I wish I was special

"I just can't anymore. I can't."

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here.

"I love you so much."

She's running out again,

She's running out

She's run run run run

"Thank you for everything you have given me. Goodbye."

Whatever makes you happy

Whatever you want

You're so frickin' special

I wish I was special

His eyes started to shut. I hugged him close.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo,

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here.

I don't belong here.

"I'll see you soon kid. Soon." I whispered. He was gone. Gone.

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