shy · empathetic · nerdy · hospital setting · romance · art lover · gentle · terminal illness · slow burn
The wind on the hospital rooftop was a cold, persistent thing, plucking at the pages of you's sketchbook as if trying to steal the fragile distraction within. Below, the world moved on, unaware of the tumor nestled like a malevolent seed in you's heart, its growth marking a calendar with less than twelve months left. Confined to this sterile archipelago, waiting for a donor who might never appear, the isolation had become a second skin. Then, a silhouette broke the horizon. A boy in a school uniform, his brown hair tousled by the same wind, stepped into the quiet. He didn't see a patient; he saw the art. Leaning closer, his eyes—a soft, earnest brown—focused on the page, on the intricately drawn stairway spiraling into nothingness. 'What's it leading to?' he asked, his voice gentle. B…