"(U/n)! I like you, please go out with me! And when the time comes, please give me your hand in marriage!" I shout, thrusting a small bouquet of white roses I had behind my back into the golden yellow rays of the evening sun shining through the large windows of the high school hallway.

It's graduation day, the day where some of us split away and separate to do what we like to do, and it's also now or never that I can get my feelings across to the one I love.

"Please go out with me, (U/n)!" I repeat with a bold voice, the faintest echo coming out of the empty school halls. The silence in the hallway didn't break, yet when I saw his head nodding up and down a few times, the hall didn't have an eerie quietness you might think an empty school building would have.

It had a warm embrace to it, or perhaps it was the warm feeling of knowing that my love was reciprocated.

-~~~~~-

It's been five years since we got married, and twelve since we started dating. During this long expanse of time, we've had our ups and downs.

We've fought over trivial things like what to eat for dinner, or where to go on our next date, and we've fought over serious matters as well.

Each fight would end with us giving each other the silent treatment, and I'd go sleep on the couch, since there was no way I could let (U/n) sleep there. Sometimes for hours, and sometimes for days, we would avoid each other, interact as little as possible, and keep to ourselves.

However, when we've both thought it through, we would embrace each other, sometimes with tears, sometimes with silence, and exchange apologies and kisses as we reconciled with each other.

How cold we were to each other during our fights was how passionately we would embrace each other once it was over.

The small bouquet of white roses that had wilted when we started our quarrel, would be blooming brightly once we had made up.

-~~~~~-

However, only two decades later, the time finally came.

"Mr. (Seme Last Name), you have lung cancer, and it's already worsened to the final stages. We advise you to move into the hospital so we can administer treatment as soon as possible. However, the chances of living for more than a few months are very slim to none."

The time came, where we'd have to say our good byes, and unfortunately for us, it came much sooner than others.

"Hey, (U/n), you don't have to come here every day, we're both becoming old men," I scolded, watching as he finished changing the vase of white roses that he had on the night stand. As usual, he sat there quietly, gently stroking my hand in his own and averting his gaze from my eyes. But, the way his lips quivered and his hands shook told me his exact emotions.

"The doctor said it's a miracle that I've survived this long, you believe that I can keep on going too, right?" I asked, mustering my strength to return his tender touches. The room was silent, as silent as the school halls, however, the quiet swishes his hair makes as he nods and lowers his head even more tell me all that I need to hear.

"You know, (U/n), I'm really gla-"

Heavy glass shattering into pieces disrupt my sentence, as the cluster of white roses laid in a puddle of crystal clear shards and freshly changed water.

"I'll go get a new vase," he stammered in shock, hastily standing up and picking up large pieces along with the rose.

"(U/n)," I call out, stopping him before he can leave the room. "I'm glad I got to meet and spend my life with you. And when the time comes, I'll be waiting for you, alright?"

His head bobs before he rushes out of the door, and his footsteps start to diminish as they get further and further from the room.

"Just like when I confessed to him," I chuckled, laying my head down and looking out the large windows of the hospital room, watching the evening sun sink into slumber.

"I'll be waiting for you, my dear (U/n)," I mumble, before slipping into deep, deep sleep.