I'm not a medical student so I don't really know that many terms related to health or what things feel like. I only happen to watch a lot of Holby City and Casualty. You'll have to forgive the jumping around in this one shot. If I could there would be more than one font for the different perspectives. Other news is I'm taking down a few stories for rewriting, actually it's two stories and a chapter but it's a major thing for me. Anyway, after this I'll be back on track with the longer things I used to work on.

Love Sick

By Louann1

Distant memories are something I have a lot of. Everyone knows that loved memories are treasured and that depressing ones are never really forgotten. For some reason I can remember every single thing that people have said that has hurt me. I can recall every every snide comment and every sideways glance. In comparison, those things don't mean anything because there is only one memory that I will truly treasure in my heart forever. My memory of him.

She sighed as she fumed at the constant bleeping sound coming from the large boxy machine next to her bed. She'd been there for almost a week and the monotonous sound was the only thing she hadn't become accustomed to yet. That and the disinfectant smell which stung the back of her throat whenever she inhaled too quickly. Although she wasn't in the best place in the world, she didn't want to leave. She felt a comfort being there because nothing could hurt her there. She couldn't frown because she had an accident, she couldn't clench her fist in anger but she could suffer from a broken heart.

There are many things that doctors can cure, wounds, cuts, pains but there was no way that any doctor could heal her broken heart. She had wondered how long it had been since she had last thought about him. It must have been a few days ago when she was watching some soppy daytime TV drama. To some people, love at first sight would be something indescribable. It's not something that many people can immediately click with because there's always a fear of getting hurt. The closer people are to you the more likely they are to hurt you. Trust plays a big part in relationships, no matter what they are. It's a two way road that has no rules. A single word out of place could destroy or repair a relationship.

How often do people fall in love at first sight? How can you tell that a complete stranger you meet is the perfect stranger? The answer to the first is not often and the second is... I don't know. There's no way of knowing a person straight away. Whose to say that people only have one soul mate. Why can't you lose and find someone else? Why can't I find someone else?

Beside me used to be an empty bed. It used to be so crisp and clean. Even though no one had used it yet, it was changed by the nurses everyday. It would take them twice as long because I would talk to them. I don't get the opportunity to talk to anyone most of the day. There's always some place that people have to rush off to. I'm not mad at them. I can understand that there are better places to be.

Anyway, that bed isn't empty anymore. There's another person on the other side of the curtain. I find myself worrying about what to say. For someone who was once desperate to talk to someone I find myself speechless. When he was first brought in I was slightly worried. "Critical" is the word I think the doctor used. As soon as he appeared whoosh the curtain was drawn immediately around the bed. Since then it hasn't been moved. I would have to admit that I am curious. I haven't spoken to him yet. I don't know what kind of person he is. He could be some old man or some little kid. All I know is that he must be pretty lonely. No one has come to visit him yet and it's been a while since he first came.

On the other side of the curtain laid a young man in a bed, staring up at the blank beige ceiling. He gave a long, deep sigh in regret, before turning around and wincing at the accidental pressure he put on his side. How long would he have to stay there in the hospital? He rolled his eyes. How many other things could he have done if he weren't there, plugged into monitors and drips and other machines? The window above his bed was open and in drifted a cool refreshing breeze which relaxed his nerves a little. Being still agitated him. There was nothing to do, nothing to watch, nothing to say.

He turned to his left and wondered who was on the other side of the curtain. The repeating bleeping sprung some rhythm in the boy. As if he were messing around with a metronome, he began to tap on his lap, making up a tune as he went along. Although it was nothing like having an instrument in front of him, it was better than frittering time away like sands in an hour glass. A solid five minutes passed before someone decided to comment on his drumming.

" That's pretty good," A feminine voice said.

He stopped and looked around his tiny bed space. Seeing no one there brought relief to his already agitating mind, no one could see him looking like an idiot. The nagging voice in his head, more oftenly called his conscience, told him to reply. It wasn't like the woman was some young kid or some old woman. They could have something in common. Besides, speaking to someone who liked his drumming would be better than remaining silent.

" Thanks."

" What are you in for?" The voice belonged to someone concerned. He could confidently state that because he could hear in it her voice.

" It doesn't matter. I just pushed myself a bit to far, that's all. If I told you, you would probably laugh," He scoffed at his openness.

" I'm glad you're okay. It was a little worrying when they brought you in. I mean, there were a lot of people treating you with really serious faces and... I'm making a fool out of myself."

" Huh? No. Not at all," He could almost feel her blush from the other side of the curtain. " Thanks for caring..."

I finally spoke to him and he's somewhat similar to how I imagined him. He has a spark for creativity and he seems to be mysteriously unpredictable. Even though he's those things, there's a loneliness that shrouds him. He seems glad that I take an interest in his wellbeing but he won't tell me what's wrong with him. He says that I'd laugh but I can't see anything wrong with being ill. Apart from being ill that is. I tried to think about illnesses which would be embarrassing to talk about but half of them wouldn't be applicable to him. Perhaps it's only because he finds it peculiar to him.

It appears that we get on well together. It's like I can tell him everything that I bottle up for my visitors. I'll admit, it was pretty awkward talking to him at first but he's a warm person. There's not much to report about him. Nothing that strikes me at all but there's something about the way he speaks. I feel that I've heard it before somewhere. It's definitely something that I like hearing, it's a silky kind of voice with some hurt in it. That may sound bad but it makes me want to like him. You could say that the pain I hear when he speaks is something that I want to take away.

" What about you?"

" Me? What about me?" She replied with promptly.

" Why are you here?" He asked her.

" It's nothing major," She replied with a melancholy tone. " There's just something wrong with my heart."

" Oh," His face dropped.

" So what are you interested in?"

Well this conversation just got personal. I regret asking her what was wrong. It's just like me to make things awkward. She probably doesn't want to speak to me anymore but she still goes on like I didn't say what I did. In a way, I wish I was like her. She can brush off things like that while I just manage to get by with them hanging over my shoulder. I wonder how long I've been here. I'm sure that people know I'm here. So why haven't they come yet? Do I mean so little to them that they feel that I don't need visitors. I'm a little hurt about it, just because I'm not well doesn't mean that I want to be alone.

Why do people do that? What is so bad about being ill that they feel like they have to keep outside a three mile radius of me. I'll admit there's a nice, calming feeling about being alone but it can only last for so long before a feeling of loneliness kicks in a decides to take over. There's something about being with people that sometimes can bring out the best in people.

" I'm sure that someone will visit you soon."

That's another thing. It surprises and intrigues me at the same time. She says exactly what I want her to say. She can comfort me without even looking at me. People can have this ability. It's this amazing talent that can brighten anyone's day. Some people don't realise that they have it. Everytime she speaks to me I feel that she does that. The funny thing is that I can't see her. I can't see her smile. Which brings me to another thing that my curiosity's been nagging at me to find out. What does she look like?

" How did you know what I was thinking about?" He asked cluelessly.

" Well..." She began nervously, her voice slightly quivering. " You've been here for a while but no one has come for see you."

" Is it really that obvious?" He questioned shyly.

" You shouldn't fret about it. You got me for the meantime, right?" She was brimming with happiness.

" You're right. I shouldn't worry about things like that."

" Exactly. Right now, you're most important."

A while back if someone asked me who was most important to me, I would've most probably said that it was me. I know that it's selfishness right down to a 't' but that's how I felt. When she said that I was the most important person, it didn't sound as conceited as when I say it. She's extremely lucky. She can say almost anything and it'll still sound like she's reciting the sweetest poem in the world. One day, I'd like to hear her swear. I want to hear if it sounds as threatening coming from her than anyone else. Obviously, I don't want to be the object of her anger.

I can't really find anything wrong with her. She's the nicest person I've ever met. I can't pick out anything annoyingly obvious and it really worries me. Usual there's around 2 or 3 things that people do which annoy me. For example, there's a nurse and she wears far too much make up and she insists on having dinner in between her teeth. Whoever is right next to me is perfect. Well, right now she is. I don't know if she would be if I got to know her better. She reminds me of a girl I used to know. She was the object of my affection. Not a minute goes by without me thinking of her and regretting leaving her.

I don't know why I do the things I do. The stupid voice in my head insists on letting me make the wrong decisions. If I did see her again, the girl I love that is, I wouldn't know what to do. I'd probably, say 'hi' and walk away again even though there's so much that I want to tell her. I can't bottle up those things forever, there's no way. I know that someday, I'll have to get over her and when I do I know that I'll need to give my love to someone else. There's a feeling inside me that I feel will overflow if I don't give it to someone else.

" I do have you for now."

" You've got me." That's what I told him. I wondered if he took it the wrong way but from his response I'm not too sure. That is most definitely high on the list of things that made him go quiet. Maybe he's thinking. After all, we've been talking for quite a while without stopping to take a breath.

He reminds me of him. He has this atmosphere around him that makes me care. I feel the same as when I was with that boy from my past. I can feel my heart reacting when I think compassionately about him. It begins to beat faster and I can feel myself warming from inside. Then as I manage to calm down my stomach aches and I find it hard to stand up straight. I wouldn't say that it was something that pains me. A more fitting description would be that I ache for him.

Five years must have passed before she fully realised that without him she would never be happy. It had been so long since she felt love for and from another. How she so wished to feel the joy she once had when she looked into his eyes, when she laid in his arms, when she loved him. Five years ago tears of joy flooded from her eyes but now her tears are permanently held back. She doesn't cry because she knows that if she does the tears won't stop. She'd loved him for him. She gave him all her love and he accepted it willingly along with the person that she was.

She hadn't changed, not one bit. She still thought about him. He was a hard person to forget. The hardest thing she had to accept was that was that she's never see him again. It didn't matter if she saw him again because he'd probably have changed by now. He wouldn't have felt the same way because that was what she believed. She found comfort in believing that he wouldn't recognise her anymore because that was better than believing that he didn't love her and even worse, that he didn't didn't remember her.

She gave a small cry in pain. It was barely describable. She found herself gasping for air like she was drowning in invisible water. She clutched her chest and noticed the irregular beating of the machine next to her and tried to shout for help, she tried telling the machine to go back to the way it was but there was nothing but a haunting silence that was drawing in on her, telling her to a place which she found hard to resist.

She could feel her blood run cold. She noticed that the tips of her fingers were beginning to get colder. As doctors and nurses rushed to her side she looked at the curtain which veiled her new friend at the ceiling and suddenly felt a wave of fatigue washing over her, forcing her to rest.

He's a difficult man to describe. He's hardly generous to a fault and doesn't have the patience of a saint. He's a man who avoids conversation like dodging bullets. Hardly anyone remembers the way he used to be when he was with her. The change was remarkable so much so that he could've been mistaken for another man. Many years had passed since they went their separate ways. The thought of her remembering him was now a joke because it had been so long. It seemed impossible for him to ever see her, speak to her, love her.

Counting the minutes which passed turned into counting the hours, the days, the weeks, the months and finally the years. No matter where he turned everything reminded him of her, the morning sky, the smell of coffee, the freshly cut flowers from the shop he passed every morning. Not a day went by without him thinking about how much he missed her. The smell of her hair, the look in her eyes and the touch of her lips haunted him everyday. He would drop everything just to be with her but too much time had past.

He could sense that something was wrong. There was a strange and eerie silence that he found extremely uncomfortable. It was followed by dreaded irregular bleeps that made his heart beat that much faster. His eyes widened as he found that it wasn't him who had the problem it was her. The girl who had made an attempt to care about him, was now in trouble. He tried to get out of his bed. He tried to help her but he was only met with looks of disappointment from the nurses and doctors which passed his bed to get to her.

I can't believe that they expect me to just sit here and twiddle my thumbs while there's a person in pain right next to me. She's just within an arm's reach. I've tried to draw back the nauseating patterned curtain to see her but it seems to be caught on something. If I could only see her. To just listen to the clatter and panicked voices just strike awful imaginings in my head. I can't hear her say anything. I can't even hear her breathing. I didn't know how frightening silence could be.

" What should we do?"

" She's just too weak."

" You want us to leave her?"

" There's nothing we can do for her. There's a hole in her heart that can't be fixed."

" Save her! Please!" From the bed next to the patient in question, a single boy cried for help.

" Listen young man-"

" No, you listen! You're doctors! You're not meant to leave patients to their deaths. You chose this occupation to save lives, to feel the satisfaction when you've helped someone prolong their life. Isn't that what it's all about!" His voice rang honesty though the despairing ward.

" Do you know her?" A stern doctor mocked his word with an ugly sneer that brought a sweat on the patient as if he were running.

" No..." He replied avoiding the gaze of the confronting doctor.

" Then what do you know?"

" I know that she can say exactly want you want to hear. I know that she has it in her heart to care about complete strangers. I know that she was here for me. The least I can do is return the favour."

Such loud voices ringing in my ears. They speak with words that touch and bruise my heart There's an invisible weight pressing against me, stopping me from reaching out to him. I can feel my energy depleting as the people around me fret about what to do. I don't want them to give up. I want them to know that I'm here. I'm alive. If he knows that I am, why can't they take me out of this kaleidescope of limbo. Even if I never inhale another breath I'd go into the arms of death gladly knowing that they never gave up on me.

" How enlightening."

" Enlightening?"

" Get the crash trolley in here. 'Can't leave a patient like this can we?" The doctor watched over the team as they began to save the lost girl. He returned to the patient next door. " You have a way with words boy. You know just how to abuse the stature of the way things are."

" Things are the way they are because nobody does 'abuse the stature'," He replied, still feeling disorientated from the occurrences.

She's safe. She's finally safe. The days that have passed have just seemed to be the same as the time in which a stain of breath on a mirror takes to disappear.

" Thank you."

She thanks me but I feel that it should be me who thanks her. She made me realise that I can get over the heartbreak that I've had. Just is the first raindrop to fall isn't the only one, my first love doesn't have to be my only love. Maybe, just maybe... I've fallen in love with her. I love the way that she speaks, the way that she pronounces each and every world, I love the way that she giggles when I tell her a lame joke, the way that she finds a way to patch a piece of me that aches to be filled. I love her for her.

I could cry. I could wash away my fears with my tears but they would be forever flowing as I fear that everything I love could be stolen away from me again. I could tell him what I'm feeling. I could say that I owe him my life but that wouldn't be enough in repayment. I could be honest with him. I could confess these feelings that I've been keeping under lock and key but I'm scared that if I do and he doesn't feel the same I'll just be left with a vessel of love and no one to give it to. If I take a glass of water and pour half it's contents, do I think that it's half empty or half full? I find it neither. I find it incomplete just as I find myself.

Some people say that time heals all wounds. That may be applicable to some but to others it only opens them deeper. There's no helping how a person feels, there's no point in making someone have false feelings. Soon, empty lies just consume a person until they lose all that was them. Trying to change the way you feel for others, for someone who you love may not be a cure but it can be something that you can find refuge in.

He guides me like a northern star shining in the night for the lost to follow. He brings me to a place where I can reveal all the things about me that I never show. There's no other way for me to be with him apart from myself. I never thought that I'd ever find anyone like that. I just want to love and have that love returned back to me. I honestly feel that he could do that, but if I do then I could be making a brash decision. It could just be me having a lack of communication.

It's her I know it is. It was only a glimpse as the curtain danced gently in the breeze but I'm certain that she's here right next to me. Affection washes over me again just like when I first met her except I didn't know it was her. How could I know? I hadn't seen what she looked like but that's no excuse. I should've realised that it was her. No one else could be as caring or as unselfish as she is. A second chance was all I needed, just enough to tell her how I feel just enough to tell her my regrets. If I could, I would choose to relive my life from the moment we were first introduced. That way, I could relive all those wonderful moments that make me both happy and sad when I recall them as well as erasing that part of history and rewriting something that I find more fitting. I would stay. Simple as that.

I find myself speechless. As my heart races my words slip away without a trace. If I could pluck my thoughts out of the air and find the courage to say something. It was him from all those years back. I don't think that he's changed that much. Now that I'm certain of who he is, I can firmly state that he hasn't changed at all. I find myself a little relieved to know that it's him. It shows that I'm not being brash in deciding that I love him. I'm crushed that I haven't told him how I feel. It's a load pressing down on me, dragging me behind. I can't keep going this way. I can't make the same mistake by letting him walk out again.

What a difference a day makes. It's long enough for someone to leave, someone to arrive, someone to feel different. They could wait another day, another rotation of the earth. They could prepare their thoughts and blurt them in muddled sentences later. They could fall in love at the second sight of each other all over again when the day was anew. There was no point in watching the hours and the minutes because if they did then they would miss that serene sunset that appeared in the window opposite them at dusk and the brand new sunrise at dawn.

Tired of feeling love sick with pain and sorrow,
They wait in patience until tomorrow.