I wanted to be furious at Jamie, but I couldn't find the energy within me to express that anger in any way. I just sat there instead, staring into the sunset with him, trying to ignore the fact that I was leaning against a boy who was actively dying with every passing second.

I wanted to do something to make Jamie's last moments in this world memorable somehow, but I stayed silent. I didn't know if it was because I didn't know what to do, or if I was spiteful enough that I was bleeding away at his time in some form of petty revenge against him, but I didn't want to risk feeling any sort of regret in case it was the latter case. I sighed and lifted myself from his shoulder.

"Well, is there anything you want to do?" I asked.

Jamie glanced at me, but avoided my eyes, quickly turning back away to stare into the distance.

"Nah," he said. "I'm fine."

"Are you really?" I asked. "You are about to die, aren't you? That's why you were in such a rush to get here, isn't it?"

"I wanted to make sure you would be safe after I left," he said, with a casual shrug. "I didn't expect it to last long, but I just wanted to get it over with quick so we could just hang out afterwards."

"And I guess that's what we're doing, isn't it?" I said. "Hanging out."

He gave me another shrug, and when it became clear that that would be his only response for the moment, I let out a sigh and put my head back on his shoulder.

"When were you planning to tell me?" I asked.

"I don't think I planned to tell you," he admitted easily.

"You're an asshole."

"I know. I was scared."

"Scared of me?"

"I didn't want to make you upset."

"Well, I am upset."

"That's fair."

"You know what's not fair? All of this."

"I know. I'm sorry."

The words "don't be" floated on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back, not wanting to grant Jamie forgiveness so easily. I took my head off his shoulder, and though the weakness in my body made me sway slightly, threatening to tip me over, I managed to stop myself from falling, hugging my knees for support.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shifting, like he wanted to sling his arm around my shoulder to support me, but he seemed to realize that I wouldn't be okay with that. He leaned back instead, supporting his upper body with his arms and tilting his head back.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"That I'm dying?" he asked back. "Yeah."

"How?" I asked.

"I just know," he said. "The same way that David probably knows that he's dying."

I didn't want to look at him, but I did. I knew that with his superhuman senses, he probably knew I was staring at him, but that didn't stop me from analyzing his expression.

He looked peaceful at first, staring up into the sky with a neutral smile, but he was frozen in place in an unnatural way. Though the wind that gently tossed his hair and the reflection of the lazy clouds passing by his eyes gave off the illusion of motion, his chest remained completely still as he breathed, if he was breathing at all.

"Are you in pain?" I asked.

Jamie turned to me, raising an eyebrow. "Not at all," he said. "What makes you ask?"

"You seem scared," I said.

He laughed at that, and hugged his knees close to his chest, mirroring my position exactly.

"I already said I was scared, didn't I?" he asked. "I said I didn't want to upset you."

That wasn't the answer I had been looking for. "I guess you did," I said anyways.

Jamie turned to me and smiled, though the expression melted off quickly as he sighed and fell forward, letting his chin rest against his knees.

"I'm scared that I'm dying for nothing," he said. "While we were fighting, time stopped and I was sent to my old world. I'm not sure if I was actually there, or if I was just inside of my own head, but I saw my dad again. He was a piece of shit, as usual, but seeing him made me think about my dream. To be loved."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I thought it was a straightforward dream at first," he said. "If you asked me a few hours ago how I could achieve my dream, I don't know if I would've been able to give you a real answer. I might've said that I would need to get a girlfriend, have my first kiss, have sex, you know, making love? It's a little silly in hindsight."

Jamie let out a quiet laugh, as if he was pretending like he had made a joke. The laughter quickly faded away into a sigh.

"Long story short, I realized that love wasn't about that. All I really wanted was for someone to believe in me, to protect me, to forgive me, no matter what I did," he said, letting out an even louder sigh and suddenly lurching back, falling down with his back flat against the floor, staring directly up at the sky. "I really should've died a long time ago. I'm not a very smart person."

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I heard a sniffle, but I wasn't sure who it had come from. My head sunk down, deeper into my knees. When I spoke, my voice was muffled by the fabric of my clothes. It was quiet enough that I could barely hear it myself.

"If I say that I hate you, will you live?" I asked.

Jamie laughed, an actual laugh this time.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "And if you really feel that way, and I just made the wrong assumption, I'd really prefer if you could just lie to me for a couple more hours. I'll be gone from your life after that."

A surge of anger coursed through me and I couldn't stop myself from shuffling over to where Jamie was lying down and slapping him across the face, as hard as I could.

He reached up and stroked his face, more out of shock than pain.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was stupid of me."

"As long as you know," I said, nursing my hand as it throbbed in pain. "I'm sorry too."

"Don't be," he said. "I deserved it."

"You really did," I said, before shuffling over and sitting closer beside him.

"Do you want me to heal your hand for you?" he asked.

"Don't you fucking dare," I said.

"Okay," he said.

I didn't have anything to say to that, so I sat there silently, staring at nothing and thinking about nothing.

Jamie let out a loud sigh.

"I was telling the truth when I said that you probably made David very happy," he said. "Lies or not, he's going to die with his dreams fulfilled. I know that's what he wants."

"Is that so?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I could only assume that he's the same as me. I could only assume that if his dream was important to him as mine was to me, he would die happy once it was fulfilled."

"So you're happy?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said easily.

I frowned at that, but held back a sob.

"I'm glad you're happy," I said.

He let out a laugh, but if it sounded a bit choked up, I didn't comment on it.

"All things considered, this isn't a bad way to go. Much better than the first time around. I should be grateful that I had a second chance at all," he said. "But if I'm being honest, I'd much rather not be dying."

"I know," I said. "I'd prefer it if you didn't die either."

Jamie laughed again, and I couldn't help but laugh with him, realizing what I'd just said and how silly it sounded out of context. Our laughter didn't last long, but when it faded away, I was surprised that I had a slight smile on my face. I turned around to look at Jamie, and though his eyes were misty, he was also smiling. I shuffled around and let myself fall back on the floor beside him, so we were shoulder to shoulder.

"I know I already asked this, but are you sure there isn't anything else you'd rather be doing right now?" I asked.

"Nah," he answered easily. "I like this."

"Then is there anything else you want to talk about?" I asked. "I can't imagine it's fun only talking about how you're going to die soon."

"Not soon. Four-ish hours is a long time."

"I suppose it is."

I felt Jamie's hand shyly touch the back of mine and I reached out to grab it, intertwining my fingers with his.

"Can you tell me a story?" he asked.

"That entirely depends on what type of story," I said. "My parents told me a lot of stories when I was younger, but I always fell asleep too fast to hear the end."

He seemed to think about it for a few seconds.

"Not like a bedtime story," he said. "Can you tell me about yourself?"

"The Legend of Lena?" I asked.

He laughed at that. "That's a good one," he said.

"I can't take credit for it," I admitted. "Bran suggested that title for a book I could write about being your Follower. I don't think I plan on writing it though."

"Why not? It's a pretty good idea, I think."

"I don't particularly want to. Besides, it's a horrible title. And a false one. It would be the Legend of Jamie, written by Lena. I'm just some random village girl that met you by chance. You're the remarkable one."

"I think you give yourself too little credit. And if you were going to write a book about me, I'd rather call it the Journal of Jamie. Or something like that."

I laughed a little, but shifted my fingers around to pinch the meat of his palm. "That's also a horrible title."

"We can workshop it," he said. "We have the time."

I don't know if he had intended that to be ironic, but neither of us laughed.

"Anyways," he said, quickly trying to dispel the awkward atmosphere he created. "I still demand my story. Don't think you can distract me with your tangents."

"Fine, fine," I said. "Do you really want to learn more about me though? I haven't led a very interesting life until I met you, but you already know that part."

"You're a very interesting person, Lena," he said. "But I'll admit that I'm not too interested in your past, no offence."

"None taken," I said. "What did you want from me then?"

"Your future," he said. "I won't be there, but I'm curious about what your life will look like after I'm gone."

My fingers unconsciously curled tighter around his hand. I took in a deep breath before I spoke.

"It probably won't be accurate," I said. "I can't see the future."

"It's just a story," he said. "It doesn't need to be."

I turned my head to look at him. He was still staring at the sky.

"Okay," I said.

It turned out that telling a story was much more difficult than it looked, and I turned out that I wasn't a particularly good storyteller. My improvised storytelling was awkward, with random pauses every few seconds as I struggled to create the Legend of Lena, but Jamie didn't seem to mind. Eventually I started to pause less and less as I spun my story for him, though any hint of a cohesive narrative quickly started to disintegrate.

I barely knew what I was talking about, just saying anything and everything that came to mind without thinking of it. I think I started off with a story about how I might inherit my dad's butcher shop and make a living off of that, but I somehow got sidetracked and managed to create a story about how I might become a blacksmith in Redstone.

Jamie started to jump into the story too, which didn't make sense at all, but I ran with it. Together, we created an absurd story of my life in the coming years, where I was somehow a blacksmith, lawyer, warrior, mayor, and a baseball player, whatever the hell that was. Eventually it stopped being a story about me entirely, and we just started to talk about everything and nothing at once.

I was in the middle of explaining my hypothetical crackpot theory about how Jamie had secretly been a gang leader back on his world, when I noticed him getting suddenly quiet, and an unnatural sense of peace spontaneously fell over him. I tried to finish my train of thought, but my words fell short.

He smiled at me and sat up.

I got up on my knees, shuffled over to position myself in front of him, and fell forward, summoning as much strength as I could muster to give him the tightest hug I possibly could.

"I'll miss you," he said.

"I'll miss you too," I said.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I said.

I closed my eyes and gave him a kiss on the forehead. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

Though my vision was misted over, the place that I was kneeling in was familiar enough that I could still recognize it as my room, back in Plainswood.

Not knowing what else I could do now, I sat there and cried.