100 Prompt Challenge - Astelle

Prompt: Modern AU request by R.B., the anime addict, based on a true story.

Noelle comes down with an especially severe case of COVID, and Asta — despite the need to quarantine and keep his distance — refuses to leave her side. He stays with her, ready to accompany her in this life... or any other.

—

The silence in Noelle's apartment was suffocating. Curtains drawn, lights dimmed — everything felt muted, like the world was holding its breath. Asta stood by the door, mask pulled tight over his face, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. His eyes fixed on her small figure curled beneath a pile of blankets on the couch.

"You shouldn't be here," Noelle rasped. Her voice was dry, brittle — like something that might crumble apart if she said too much. "You're an idiot."

Asta smiled weakly behind his mask. "Yeah. But I'm your idiot."

Noelle let out a breathy scoff that turned into a cough, her whole body wracking with the force of it. Asta flinched and took a step forward before stopping himself.

"Stay back," she warned, voice thin. "If you get sick too…"

"I'll be fine." His smile faltered. "I'm strong, remember?"

"That doesn't mean you're invincible." Her head lolled against the armrest, sweat sticking strands of silver hair to her forehead. Her face was pale, her breath shallow. She was barely holding herself together, and yet she still tried to glare at him like the stubborn fool she was. "You're reckless, you always have been…"

He wanted to laugh — to say Yeah, and you love me for it. But the words never came. They stuck in his throat like stones.

Instead, he stayed by the door. Watched her struggle just to keep her eyes open. The air felt heavy, like it was pressing against his chest.

"You need anything?" he asked, voice quieter now. "Water? Soup? Anything?"

Noelle closed her eyes and shook her head. "I just… I just need you to stay away."

"Yeah…" Asta swallowed hard. "Sure."

He sat down on the floor, back against the wall. He could still see her from there — her frail form rising and falling beneath the blankets. Each breath seemed to take more effort than the last.

—

Days passed. Asta stayed.

He brought food she could barely eat, medicine she could barely take. He heard her whisper his name in her sleep sometimes — soft, desperate — and it broke him more than he'd ever admit.

"You're not leaving," she muttered one evening, voice weaker than before. "Why aren't you leaving?"

Asta didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted to the window, where pale light barely crept past the drawn curtains. "Because I promised," he said eventually. "I told you before — I'm not going anywhere. No matter what."

"You're so…" She coughed again — a rough, brutal sound that seemed to steal what little strength she had left. When she finally caught her breath, she gave him a faint smile. "...stupid."

Asta smiled back. "I know."

—

She got worse.

Her breaths came slower now, sometimes stopping for a heartbeat too long before rasping back to life. Every minute felt like waiting for something inevitable — something Asta couldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried.

"...You're scared," Noelle murmured one night. Her eyes barely opened, but her fingers twitched beneath the blankets. "I can tell."

"I'm not scared," Asta said. His voice shook. "I'm angry."

"Why?"

"Because…" He clenched his fists. "Because this shouldn't be happening. You shouldn't…" His throat tightened. "You're not supposed to…"

"I know," she whispered. Her fingers stretched toward him — barely moving, just reaching. "But you can't fight this, Asta."

He stared at her hand. Pale. Frail. The same hand that had once held a wand, cast spells with impossible precision — the same hand that had slapped him across the face the first time he called her pretty.

"I can try," he said hoarsely.

She smiled faintly. "Idiot."

—

The doctor called that morning. Said it wouldn't be much longer.

Asta sat by the door, knees pulled to his chest. He knew he should call someone — Mimosa, Yuno, anyone — but he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

"Noelle…" His voice barely worked. "Please…"

The blankets shifted. Her hand moved again — weak fingers curling slightly. She barely had the strength to lift it.

Asta couldn't take it anymore.

"Don't." Noelle's voice was barely a whisper, but it stopped him cold. "You… you'll get sick…"

"I don't care." His mask hit the floor. Before she could protest, he was at her side. Her skin was burning hot beneath his fingers — her breath rattling and shallow.

"I'm right here," Asta whispered. He brushed sweat-damp hair from her face, feeling the thin tremble of her breath against his palm. "I'm not leaving."

"You're an idiot…" Her voice was so quiet now. "...but I'm glad."

"Me too," he said. "Me too."

He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her frail body press against his. Her breathing stuttered — a sharp intake of air, like her body didn't know what to do with the comfort.

"I'm sorry," Noelle whispered, voice barely there. "For everything."

"Don't be." His voice shook. "You don't have to…"

"I love you," she said. The words were soft — no hesitation, no stammering. Just truth.

Asta squeezed her tighter, fingers trembling against her back. "I love you too," he choked out. "Always."

For a while, she just lay there — warm against him, her breath brushing his skin. Then, slowly, her chest stopped moving.

—

The funeral was quiet.

Only a handful of people were allowed to attend — family, close friends. Yuno stood beside the casket, face set like stone. Vanessa cried the whole time. Mimosa couldn't even speak.

Nozel sat like an empty corpse near the front, Dorothy silently on his right, sporting a rare look that was devoid of any playfulness or joy.

Asta's seat was empty.

—

Yuno found him a week later, in his apartment. The TV was still on — some mindless cartoon playing softly in the background. The air smelled stale, like someone had barely left the room in days.

Asta lay curled on the couch, blankets half-pulled over his body. His face was pale, his lips dry and cracked. He looked… small. Fragile.

"You idiot," Yuno muttered. Hands shaking, eyes watering, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

The ambulance arrived fifteen minutes later. The medics said it was too late.

—

The world moved on.

Weeks turned into months, but Noelle's apartment stayed quiet. Dust gathered on the bookshelves. The silver hairbrush on her dresser lay undisturbed.

In a frame by her bedside, there was a picture — a photo of two smiling idiots with arms draped around each other, grinning like nothing could ever break them.

The virus did.

It broke both of them.