ok so danvid au. they’re old men. david has alzheimer’s, and daniel comes in everyday to remind him they’re married and about everything they lived through their whole lives everyday. a night comes where david asks daniel, who has his hand on david’s head, gently stroking his hair, what if he forgets again? everything. all the things they endured? the friendships and family they had. of daniel? daniel shushes him. “i’ll be here, at your side. i’ll always be with you. even though you’ll forget, you’ll never be alone. i love you, david.” david tears up. “i don’t want to forget. and i don’t even remember,” he says quietly. daniel kisses his forehead. “i know. i’ve come back to you, and always will. even if you forget, i’ll remember. i’ll remind you. you don’t have to worry. we’ve come so far now, and i won’t ever give up on you.” david cries quietly, “i think i love you. it hurts when you leave.” daniel scoots david over, david moves, and they lay together in bed beside one another holding hands. david isn’t comfortable with kissing. daniel is like a stranger. but one he feels so affectionately for, and the confusion is too overwhelming. daniel doesn’t push it. bones crack, their eyes are tired, david’s begin to droop. “i don’t want to go. i don’t want to forget.” david says. daniel smiles softly, holding david’s hands in his, their wedding rings glimmering in the soft moonlight. “wherever you go, i’ll go too. i promise, same as the day we met, i will never leave you. whenever you forget, i’ll be there to remind you who you are.” daniel promises. “daniel … i don’t remember you,” david confesses. daniel pulls his arm close, nuzzles it, “i remember you. and i’ll tell you. you don’t have to remember me. but you have to know, you are the light of my life.” david sighs, presses his forehead to daniel’s. his breaths grow shorter, deeper. daniel can feel david’s heartbeat slowing. “i’m tired, daniel,” david says. “me too,” says daniel. “will you be here tomorrow?” david says. “always.” daniel promises again. david snuggles close. these sad old men in a narrow hospital bed drawn close to one another. as david fades away, daniel feels himself begin to rest as well. the next morning, they lay in bed close beside each other. dead, but always together.
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