Annabelle sighed as she watched Louis shiver in her bed. She could feel Lucas's eyes on her as she dabbed at Louis' forehead with a damp cloth, and it was beginning to aggravate her.

"Lucas Martson, quit following me!" She huffed loudly.

"I'm just worried about you!" Lucas said loudly.

Louis stirred, whimpering in his sleep and beginning to thrash his arms and legs feverishly. Annabelle panicked for a moment, knowing she had just forced him to drink some water and really hoped it wasn't about to come back up.

"Hey, Louis, it's alright. You're okay," Annabelle said softly, and without thinking she put her lips to his burning forehead. "You're safe here."

Louis thrashed for another few moments, then calmed down and began to breathe evenly again.

"Lucas, get out." Annabelle hissed. "We're being too loud. He needs to relax or he won't get any better."

"Why do you even care?" Lucas demanded. "Do you even know him?"

"I know him better than most people,"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Just . . . Just be careful, Annie, okay?" Lucas's eyes were watery and he had to swallow hard before continuing. "I . . . I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

Annabelle took a deep breath before walking over and wrapping her arms around him, resting her chin at his shoulder. Lucas blinked, surprised, then tightened a grip around her.

"I'm okay, Lukie." She whispered. "Trust me. I'm not a victim anymore, remember?"

"I know, but--"

"Hey, little brother. Get it through your thick skull," she teased. "Your big sister is going to be just fine, okay? I promise."

"You weren't once."

"I know,"

They stood there for a few moments in the silence. They were a lot closer than most siblings, almost certainly due to their horrific childhoods.

"Come on, let's go watch a movie." She finally spoke, and Lucas nodded before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and leading her to the living room.

They were halfway through Silence of the Lambs when they heard footsteps followed by the slam of the bathroom door.

Annabelle sighed and stood up. "I'll be back."

"Okay," Lucas muttered, not bothering to ask if he should pause the film.

Annabelle knocked on the bathroom door. "Louis? Are you okay?"

She got a muffled groan in response.

"Lou? Can I come in?"

"It's your bathroom," he tried to joke, but his voice was weak.

Annabelle rolled her eyes and turned the doorknob to find Louis on his knee, hands on his thighs. He was pale and tinged green, breathing hard, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"You look handsome," she teased.

"I always look good," he said with fake indignation. He tried to look tough, but failed when he wound up vomiting into the toilet again.

"Ooh, yeah, I see it now." Annabelle hid a giggle. "Seriously though, are you okay?"

"Trust me, I've been hit by worse." Louis grumbled. "Owww!"

Annabelle winced as he hid his head and ears in the toilet bowl. "That water really didn't sit well, huh?"

"No shit," his muffled voice echoed from the bowl. "Hey, it echoes."

"I think you're delirious."

"Probably," he shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For you being stuck with me when I'm sick to my stomach." He explained miserably. "This isn't how I wanted our first meeting to go and you can't be thrilled either."

"I used to want to be a nurse," Annabelle blurted out.

"You did?"

"Yes, and I interned at a hospital during my senior year of high school."

"Why'd you quit?" Louis asked, then moaned and threw himself back into the toilet bowl.

"Who says I did quit?" She asked over the sounds of his retching.

"You sai--you said--'used--to.'" He said between gasps as he sat back on his heels.

"You got me. Okay, so I quit when I realized that sometimes you can't help the person."

"You help--you help--you help m--m--me."

"Thank you,"

"Was that--rea--real--really why?"

"Partially, that and I got--um. . . I got interested in something else."

"Which is? You nev--never told me wha--what it is you're--stud--stud--studying."

"I'm going to be a physical therapist."

"Why physical therapy?"

"A couple reasons."

"Great answer, babe." He rolled his eyes, then put his hand up to his head. "Owww."

"Your head hurts?"

He blinked. "I think it might explode."

"Ew,"

"It feels like it has a heartbeat."

"Still ew,"

"It hurts more than it does to break a bone."

"Hang on, I'll find some meds."

"No, don't bother. I'll just throw it back up."

Annabelle frowned. "I'm sorry you're sick, Lou."

"Me too," he grumbled, finally reaching out to flush the toilet and scooting back to lean against the wall.

Annabelle swallowed. His color was completely washed out, his lips chapped and his eyes dull.

He leant his head back against the wall and looked at her. "What really made you quit nursing, Annie?"

"My mom got sick. Alzheimers. You can't treat that."

"Scientists and doctors treat things. Nurses do everything else."

"Still,"

"Okay. And why physical therapy, really?"

"I told you, a couple reasons." Annabelle leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "One, it's a job where you actually can help people. Two, I was told I'd never make it the writing field. And three, I knew I wouldn't make it as a psychiatrist when I couldn't help my brother during his first panic attack."

"What happened?"

"He cried so much that he threw up, and tried to leave the house and wound up passing out. He was in the hospital for a few days."

"I'm sorry. You seem to have gotten better at it though."

"With you?"

"Yes," Louis nodded slightly. "You're the first person in years to actually make me think that . . .  that I'm worth something."

Annabelle hesitated. "But you are worth something."

"I mean. . ." Louis hesitated, trying to find the right words. "After the accident, I thought I'd never be happy again. Then I got into music, and thought maybe I had a chance. Because it was a dream, a dream my sister pushed me to go after, and I did. I thought 'it doesn't just make me happy. She's up there somewhere with ad smile on her face.' But after awhile the fame gets to you. People throw themselves at you, go out with you for your money, for your name. Nobody cares about you and you feel alone. For me it was twice as hard because I'd already been ripped apart from Lisa so it was like a relapse, alone all over again. And then you came. And now . . . Now it feels like somebody besides my mama actually cares about me. Like somebody actually likes me for who I am. Like . . . like maybe I'm really going to be okay."

Annabelle watched the tears glitter in his eyes before uncrossing her legs, unfolding her arms and sitting down beside him.

"I appreciate that," she said softly, wiping a stray tear from his face with her thumb.

She started to pull her hand back, but his fingers shot out and grabbed it, holding it to his cheek. Her heart started pounding and she remembered how Jed used to reach out and grab her. His grip had been sifferent, violent--but Louis' was soft. Desperate, but not overpowering. He wouldn't force her to keep her hand there.

"Nobody ever told you they loved you, did they?" He asked softly, his eyes piercing hers.

It was incredible how sweet he could be despite how sick he felt. How he could think about her when he felt like shit.

"No," she shook her head.

"Well they should have." He whispered. "Because you aren't just the most beautiful person in the entire world--and trust me, I've seen it all--but you're the most caring and special person this world will ever have the honor of holding."

Annabelle's stomach felt warm and her skin tingled. Butterflies had leapt into her stomach and her heart jumped into her throat.

"Don't tell me lies," she whispered.

His fingers loosened their grip and her hand fell to her side and rested on his thigh. His hand carefully reached out and caressed her cheek, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.

"I would never lie to you, Annabelle. You are, without a doubt, the greatest blessing I could have ever received. I used to pray that someone like you could come into my life even for just a day--you're a thousand times better than anything I could've asked for." Louis' voice was a breath, and it was ridiculous how nice his eyes were as he held her gaze. "People in school used to talk about their dream girl--I never knew what she would be. I'd say 'someone cute, sexy. Someone with nice breasts. Maybe a French girl.' Because I didn't know what a dream was and I didn't know what a real woman would be like. I'd describe actresses on tv, you know? The kind of people you find in your best dreams at night, the depiction of a fantasy. But you aren't a fantasy, you're real. You're the realest and most wonderful person someone could meet because yes, you're pretty, but because you care. You care about people, people you don't even know yet. You care about me. That makes me happy. You're a living angel, Annie, and the moment I spoke to you I thanked God for letting me find you. For you finding me, however it worked out."

"Louis. . ."

"You, Annabelle Marston, are the craziest and most amazing thing that will ever happen in my life, and I love you. You believe in me, in your brother, in . . . in people who the rest of the world sees as a lost cause. You want to make a difference in peoples' lives, and I love you for that." Louis wouldn't let her speak. It was becoming hard for her to swallow as he kept talking. "Someone like you is rare and I knew that the moment I read those messages you'd sent me. You're different from everyone else in this world, at least everyone I've met. You're irreplaceable, Annie, special, important. You deserve love, Annie, and I will do anything in my power to show you that. You aren't defined by what happened to you in the past or what might happen in the future. You aren't defined by what people say about you or what your insecure thoughts tell you or whatever fears gnaw at your stomach and keep you up at night, staring at the ceiling in the dark. You aren't any of that, that's not you. You're everything I've been telling you that you are. You're perfection."

"I've got imperfections, Louis, you know that as well as I do."

'Sont you understand, beautiful? That's all part of what makes you perfect." Louis breathed. "And Annie, I'm in love with you."