So I have this friend, and he's terminally ill. His name is fanfiction. Now, I'm going to lie and tell you he's my OC, but he's not. He's sort of like a real person. But that's also a lie. He's not. Not really.

Okay, look. Fanfiction is a lot of people. But less people than it looks like from the onset. And they're ALL like terminally ill.

So, I'm there in the hospital, waiting to see my friend. I've got flowers in my hands because flowers are nice. They show you care. They show that you're THINKING about them and that you want them to feel better. But just standing in the main lobby, I'm surrounded by all these.. let's call them fans.. and they're hacking and coughing and some of them are even going far and beyond that by using the main lobby as their restroom. I avert my eyes. They're sick, right? I can't be be angry with them, they don't have a choice. But then the worst thing imaginable happens. Those people are being flocked to, by "fans" and the medical staff alike. They're crowding around, saying the guy retching in the corner is "cute" or that he needs to do it more.

Now he's sick AND excited. And let me tell you, if you've ever babysat kids and taken them to a theme park, the last thing you want to do is take the kid complaining about his fever and stuff him full of candy and plop his bottom down on the salt and pepper shaker ride and sit back expecting him NOT TO VOMIT. Are you getting this? Are you really getting this?

No, not yet. There's more to it. So the lobby smells terrible, you can barely step anywhere without getting something on your shoes. The bouquet of flowers is wilting in my hand. The putrid smell of the lobby is overpowering the flowers that are practically stuck up my nose, I'm guarding them that closely. I've even named my flowers: Opinion. Opinion, my opinions, mean a lot to me and my friend, Fanfiction. He likes opinions. Good, well-looked-after ones. He takes the best ones and calls them: "Reviews." Only the best smelling opinions are truly worthy of being called reviews.

So I'm going through the different wards of the hospital, I can still hear the coughing and wheezing and hacking going on out in the lobby, even though I'm up on the second floor now. I'm walking down the hall to see my friend. The stench of what I just navigated through seems to follow me. I'm worried I'll NEVER feel clean again. I approach the nurse: Nurse Favorite. She always points me in the right direction, no matter how ill I'm feeling.

Oh, I didn't mention that? There's this thing called germs. They float in the air and if you collect too many of them, you get sick too. So I'm contaminated and I know it. I'm a smart guy. And I'm standing outside my friend's room with my wilted flowers and I want to go in so bad, but I'm worried about the smell, and maybe my Opinions have gotten tarnished. It's bad. Never mind that in the next room is my good pal Sora. Sora's got it rough. He barely walked in through the door and the sickos in the lobby latched on to him. But remember what I said about sick kids and getting excited? Well, now Sora's trapped in this place and he's got some nasty bug. Fangirlitis I think. He's in for some organ transplants of some kind, Nurse Favorite called it an OOC bypass. See, those fangirls got HIS buddy Riku sick the same way they got SORA sick. And then they practically forced Riku and Sora to make out. They swapped more germs and got more sick than the people losing their lunch and re-waxing the floor of the lobby with it for like.. the 8th time.

So they're sick, they're really, really sick. They might not make it. The operation is getting more and more compounded because of the rate of infection. Their skin is gangrenous, and they're shriveled shells of their former selves. Also, I'm worried about their doctor.. He sounds like a quack! I swear he's really a patient from the psych ward!

But nobody cares. Nobody's come to visit them. I can't even bring myself too, they don't even look like themselves.. and I don't want to remember them like that...

But nobody cares, and here's why: Every day more Soras and Rikus come in through the front doors, and the cycle repeats. Daily, more than daily. After so many minutes or so. There's a new Riku, a new Sora, and they're getting sick. And they're being thrown into more of these rooms. Sometimes the rooms double up. And it's not just Riku and Sora either. Their friends and families are being caught up in this when THEY come into the room to visit. Or when they come and do what I'm doing: visiting a friend.

It's a miracle I'm not being rushed to the ICU by this point like everybody else. Actually.. maybe I am.. those fangirls forced me to kiss that mirror in the dark bathroom and I- oh god.. I'm feeling absolutely sick to my stomach..

But I force myself onwards. I swallow back the urge to throw up and I walk into my friend's room. I'm terminally ill, he's terminally ill. We might as well hang out together.

Before the fangirls try and make us make out again.. I just want a friend. A real friend. Somebody who understands my plight and what I've had to deal with. After all, we walked through those doors together. And it pains me to see him wasting away like this. So much potential, so proud. He used to stand tall. He use to comfort me when I was sick. In fact, that's probably why he's so shriveled up and sickly-looking now.

"I'm sorry, Terra," I say to the skeletal remains laying across the hospital bed. "I brought you some opinions. I know how much you like those."

I pick up his cold, clammy hands. We're not in love, we're not gay. There's no denial to be had here. We're just best friends. I pat his lifeless hand. Look up at his glazed-over, lifeless eyes. And say my goodbyes.

"I'll miss you pal."