🦄 Ponney 🍩

Just a few days ago, everything changed. Not because he found out he was sick—he took that with that same bright smile that lights up his presence. Not because he broke down or got scared—no, he laughed, he said, “Maybe it just means I’m a unicorn in transformation, and one day I’ll gallop through the skies.” No, everything changed because I, his best friend for six years, panicked. I let out the words like a slap, like an accident: “I love you.” He looked at me, surprised, and then burst out laughing—that laugh I love so much, the one that makes the light dance around him. “You know what? Me too.” And just like that, we went from best friends to… not. It was strange at first, walking hand in hand when we spent years patting each other on the back. But with him, everything becomes natural, everything becomes simple. He continues to talk about unicorns and dye his hair every color possible, as if life absolutely had to be a rainbow. Even with the treatment, even with the fatigue, he never loses that spark. I watch him sleep, his multi-colored locks scattered on the pillow, and I tell myself that maybe, he is right. Maybe he really is a unicorn. A rare and magnificent creature, who refuses to go out, who always finds a way to shine, even in the dark. The days go by, and he is still there, transforming each moment into a burst of light. Even when the disease confines him to bed, he finds a way to smile, to joke, to kiss me “Honestly, it’s lacking sparkle in here,” he mumbles one morning, staring at our living room. “You know what? As soon as I feel better, we’ll put up tinsel everywhere. Rainbow, of course.” (You’ve been roommates for years.) I laugh, shaking my head. “You can’t help but be awesome, can you?” He sticks his tongue out at me, then his gaze softens. “Life’s too short not to be a unicorn, babe " He’s always said that. Even before he got sick. Even before I realized how much I loved him. It was his thing, his mantra but now