(Warning: suicide, death, angst, and a few curses)

     When you were stuck in the hospital, the walls surrounded you were plainly painted white. The television never worked properly, and it was too quiet to hear. The food tasted like shit, your roommate snored, and the Wi-Fi was horrible.

     But right now, as you lay in a nice little room painted lavender, reading a book under your lamp, in a room to yourself, you wish you could be back in the hospital once more. Even if the doctors here were nice, you wished you could be back in Cincinnati with your mother, instead of in Columbus stuck in an institution for 'sick' people.

     Your time was running low, and you knew that. The  wheelchair and IV stand next to your bed was a constant reminder of that. One of the only things that kept your spirits lifted was a doctor who came in to check on you every hour on the hour.

     "(Y/n), you know you should be sleeping," spoke your doctor, Will. He walked in, gently cracking the door behind him and sat on the side of your bed. "It's really late, Sweetheart."

     Finally, two hours later, your gaze was torn away from the book in your lap. "But, I'm almost done, Will." You pouted when he took your book and slid the bookmark in place.

     Will was a sweet young man with thick chestnut brown hair, and he was always ready to help someone in need.

     You were a sickly thin girl with (h/c) hair, dark eyes, and you were only 16.

     Even though he was nine years older than you, there was an infatuation you couldn't help but notice, and it sure as hell won't go away. He wouldn't know that, though.

     "Will?" Your (e/c) eyes met his chocolate brown ones when you looked up to him. "Yes, (y/n)?" His hand moved from his side and stroked your hair gently, twisting a stand between his fingers.

     "Why can't I just give up already? It's not like I can do anything remarkable in four months. My parents haven't been able to visit in more than a week, I haven't seen any of my friends- Hell, I've never even been kissed before."

     A sigh broke Will's lips. Every patient has wanted to quit at one point or another. It broke his heart to hear those words from tour mouth.
    
     "Because I need you here."

     "No you don't, Will, and you know it." You glared up at him through glossy, teary eyes.

     It was quiet. Rain sounded faint on the windowsill and there were no footsteps in the hallways. The quiet sounds of your heartbeat and soft breathing could be heard in the back of your ears.

     Everything was still.

     It didn't register in your mind at first, not even after the first two seconds. You couldn't recognize the soft feel of lips against your own, or the taste of mint, or the feeling of his hand on the side of your face. Yet, you understood. Will was kissing you, something only that happened in little girl's dreams. This was something that happened only in romance novels.

     It was foreign, yet somehow inviting, and when he pulled away, it left you wanting more.

     Your face was a shade of red not yet defined, and your hands trembled next to your sides. You never want to wake up from this sickening dream, for you know it would all be taken away within a blink of an eye.

     There was a short laspe of time before anyone talked, and when someone finally spoke, it was to kiss your head and tell you goodnight.

     That morning, when you woke, there was a fresh muffin on a plate on your stand. A note laid by it, and written in gorgeous cursive was a name you hadn't forgotten, and probably won't for awhile

     William.

     You smiled softly, and nibbling on it slowly, you replayed last night's events. It seemed surreal.

     You couldn't wait for him to show up tonight, and well, you didn't have to. He showed up before his shift started dressed in casual clothing; a sweater and jeans.

     Before you could say anything, he walked over and pulled your wheelchair out from the corner, hooking the IV stand to the back and rolled it over to the bed.

     "What are you doing?"

     "Get in, and I'll show you," he grinned mischievously, like a little kid when they had something planned only they knew about. But, you did, and he wheeled you out of the building, walking up the sidewalk slowly.

     When you finally got to your destination, you two were in the middle of an old bookstore, smiling and laughing with each other about all the little things.

     He would occasionally stop talking to breathe, while you looked around different isles. Your eyes continued strolling, until they stopped over a certain book, labeled "Fifty Shades of Grey". It's not that you wanted to read it, the book just peaked your curiosity. So, like any cat wanting to be hit by a truck, you picked it up and flipped to a page, letting your eyes wander.

     Not long after dark, you were settled back into your bed, a new stack of books underneath. Will laid beside you for awhile, playing with your hair and kissing your head softly. This is what you wanted. This is what you needed.

     You had to sleep alone that night, sadly, but the hours just before were enjoyable. This is how things worked for the next three months:

     Will would sneak into your room to cuddle and steal a kiss or two. He would take you out sometimes and whether it be to go get books, or to get breakfast, neither of you cared.

     One night, as Will was starting to leave, he kissed your ear gently, and whispered three words that made your heart race before leaving the room.

     That night, you went to sleep smiling.

     A few days later, you were clinging on the last breaths of life as you were being nursed back to health. Your world slowly turned black around the edge of your eyes.

     This time, you weren't scared of death. To greeted it with open arms and ready. Will proved you wrong. Something remarkable did happen. Love found it's way into your heart, and that's more than anyone could ever ask for.

    So, when your vision blacked, you passed on with a smile on your face.

     The next day when Will came into work, he took off his coat and laid it on the reception desk and promptly quit. He'd have patients that he was close to die before, and yes, it hurt, but this didn't hurt him; it killed him.

     No one seen him for the next days after that, until his neighbor found him hanging off the floor.