[ elysium isn't dense. after everything they've given up for each other, after dismantling every obstacle that stood in their way, the only thing left is his oripathy. and yet, that isn't something they can just conquer through love or sheer will like everything they have before.

it's an unavoidable conversation. an unfair and ultimately cruel one, but in the end—there is one choice they could make that would make sure there isn't someone left behind. but until they arrive at it, can't they live as a dream? just as two men as they are, in love. ]

You haven't used that one in a while. [ elysium, he means, and he breathes a lightless laugh. ] I mean it. Us Infected would be useless on long-term missions if our conditions could worsen that easily. And even if I wanted to hide it from you, you know tjat isn't possible.

[ the crystals' spread is obvious enough, but so are the coughing fits, the gradual deterioration of the body that follows. he's lived through it too many times in futile attempts to turn the clock back; it feels strange, almost detached, to think about the symptoms this way now.

but he knows thorns could never see it like that. ]

Let's make everything count. We did this so we could live with each other, Thorns. Not for.