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I didn't go back to their house that night, instead returning to my own apartment, where I hadn't spent much time in recent months. My chest hurt, and I was suffering from shortness of breath. I wondered at how much worse it had gotten in so few months. I was sitting in a chair, pretending to read the next morning, when Henry came rushing in without knocking. I half rose.
“What is it?”
“This” he thrust a letter into my hands, which forced me to fall back into my chair. The envelope only had Henry's name on it. My heart sank as I saw the writing.
“Slow post?” I managed to joke. The set of Henry's chin did not look like he was going to accept deflection. I opened the letter.

The letter urged Henry to take care of me; because I was suffering from consumption, and well on my way to becoming addicted to opiates. Biting my lower lip I looked up at Henry slowly.
“Clearly” I said, using all of the force of personality I used while acting “This is ridiculous.”
“You've been sick a lot, Xan.”
“So?”
He sounded hurt. “I'm not stupid Xan. That's Edward's handwriting.”
I twitched, and tried to laugh. “What, he's writing from beyond the grave?” I frowned and came to my feet. “I couldn't make you believe in vampires; now you're telling me our dead friend is writing to you?”
“Are you?”
“What?”
“Are you dying?” He grabbed me by the front of the shirt. He seemed mad- and terrified at the same time.
“Let go.”
He gave me another shake. “Answer me Alexander!”
Hardly anyone called me Alexander; just Henry, when he wanted my attention, and Vlad. It made me smile.

I fainted.

I wasn't unconscious long, thank God. I don't know what Henry would have done if I had been, probably just long enough for him to drag me to my bed and lay me out. I put a hand to my forehead- good, the fever hadn't come back.
“That was a bloody awful way of getting out of answering a question, Xan.”
“'Don't be so sad.'” I said, eyes half closed “'All mortal things die'”
“I don't want you to die.”
“I'm not going to die right this minute.” I flapped a hand at him. “You're right, fainting was a poor choice right then.” I bright myself half upright on my elbows. “Alright Henry,.” His blue eyes looked at me mournfully. “Yes, I'm sick. The doctor said it was Tuberculosis. In honesty, I probably caught it before I even met up with you again. Chances are, it's going to kill me; when is anyone's guess.” I pressed my lips together in a thin line and frowned. “Is that enough of an answer for you?”
“And the opiates?”
“Ah” I covered my eyes with my hands “E- whoever wrote that doesn't know how pain effects dosage. I'm careful ;I swear I am.”
“So says many an addict.”
I sat back up and stared at Henry. Where had he met addicts?
“No, don't get offended Xan. I believe you.” he sighed, and relaxed back into the chair. “But the letter...”
“Don't think about it.” I instructed firmly. “You'll only hurt yourself if you do.”
“But”
“Henry- no. It's safer this way. I'll take care of myself; I don't want to die anymore than you want me to die. But don't think about the letter.”
“... Fine.” he said at last. He stood up and dusted off his hands. “But Xan, if there's anything I can do for you; let me know. You're still my best friend; and if you need help; I'll give it to you. Not” he grinned. “That I expect you to take me up on it; but the offer of help is there, none the less.” He picked up his hat, and the letter.
“Henry-”
“Don't worry about it, Xan. I said I won't think about it and I won;t.”
“No” I said, propping myself against the headboard. “I need your help. “