His bright mischievous eyes have nearly burnt out. They’ve faded from their normal intense blue to a dull gray. They’ve lost the dexterous, carefree excitement that they normally reflected. The look in them now is cloudy and hopeless.
"I can think of no one I’d rather die with," I say weakly, taking a hold of his hand and squeezing. The fire returns to his eyes for a split moment.
"We’re not dead yet," he croaks. "Let’s fight the reaper, Angel. Don’t make it easy on the bastard," he says with a smirk as he squeezes my hand back.
I can’t help but smile back. I didn’t expect him to slip away so easily. The little fire behind his eyes makes my day. Here I am, lying inches from death and all I want to do is smile. He’s always had that affect on me.
Jiminy Cricket and bloody hell! I think I’m in love with my best friend. Looking at him again, I forget that I’m dying and just want to straddle him. Either I am hopelessly insane or I really am in love with my best friend."