I can't stop it.

I can feel it coming up behind me, something perverse and sinister, something that moves slowly and strikes quickly…

Something that wants to take me away from the world.

Maybe I'm just paranoid, but the fact that I've been lying here for a week now, my head burning, swimming in and out of hallucinations, sleepless nights, semi-conscious days.

I know I'm going to die.

And I'm not afraid to die.

I'm just afraid of dying without saying something.

So I called him here to me, that pretty boy with glasses, Specs. He sits beside me now, looking confused and uncomfortable.

I touch his hand, and smile sadly as he flinches. "How's it goin', Specsy?"

He eyes me warily. "Foine. Wha's goin' on? Snitch said ya wanted ta see me."

"Specs, I ain't gonna make it t'ru da night. Y'know dat?"

He looks a little surprised. "Doan talk like dat, Race, youse gonna make it…" He stops talking as I shake my head slowly.

"No, I ain't gonna make it. My name's next on da list. Youse guys gonna hafta get along widdout me."

Specs shakes his head back at me. "Nah. I t'ink youse gonna make it. But what does dat hafta do wit' me?"

I stare at him for a moment, and almost chicken out, but those bright eyes of his…he has to know.

"Specs, I's gotta tell ya dis, now, befoah 'stoo late." I try to sit up, and find I can't. Specs puts a hand on my shoulder, and my breathing speeds up. I can't keep it from doing that, even though I really should.

"Doan woik yerself too 'ard. Save yer strength." Specs advises quietly. I nod slowly, and look him in the eye.

"Specs…I's in love witcha."

Specs removes his hand from my shoulder. He stares at me, hard. My rapid breathing catches up with me, and I start to cough roughly. He gives me a glass of water, which calms me down, although I can see him looking at the fresh blood on my hand, from my throat, and I know he's disgusted and confused; he didn't know I was that sick.

He continues to stare at me for long moments, filled with just my raspy breathing, slowing even as Specs continued to think.

"Youse sho'?" he finally says, dumbly. I smile softly, and try to keep my breathing up.

"Yeh. I's sho'." I tell him. I know that time's getting shorter for me. I want him to reply.

He stares at me for another moment, then blinks, and when his eyes open, they're bleary with tears.

"Why'd ya wait so long ta tell me, Race?" he asks, his voice cracking. "Why'd ya hafta tell me now?"

"Whaddaya mean?" I struggle to ask him.

"I mean I love youse too."

He leans over and kisses my mouth softly, even though he knows that in doing so, he takes my disease into him.

And he will die too.

But I let him do it.

He knows what he's doing.

He removes his mouth from mine, and I look at him, surprised. Then he smiles softly, and I smile back.

My eyes shut, and my breath leaves my chest.

His loving, sad smile is the last thing I see.

And I'm so glad for that.

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

The only reason it took me three freaking days to write this is that my computer keeps freezing.

And holy shit, I'm SOOOOOO going to die for this fic.

Uh, that's all.

PLEASE DON'T KILL ME

**runs and hides from the rabid specs/dutchy fans**

**dashes back out, grabs mac & me video and tv**

Gotta keep entertained while I'm in hiding. DEEEEEEEEE!

**hides again**