Hi there.

So, I have been debating for a while whether or not to write and publish this. The main factor that put me off publishing this was the fear of starting to write a fic only to grow tired and bored of it after a few chapters, and not know where to go with it. But, since I took time to plan this out and since I'm basing this off a film, I'm happy to say that I'm certain this won't happen.

And, to be honest, I'm excited to work on it!

This fanfic is based off the fabulous film, Me Before You (go look it up if you want). I considered changing the title to something of my own, but I feel like this title contains so much meaning behind it. And if you find you don't quite understand it because you have not watched the film, you will as this fic progresses. Therefore I have decided to keep it, but I take no credit for it.

I won't blabber on anymore, so I'll leave you, reader, to enjoy this first chapter of what I hope will be a successful fic. Until the next update!

Disclaimer; Carry On and Me Before You do not belong to me.


...

A perfect life.

That was what he had.

To wake in a king-sized bed, white sheets strewn around him and a soft glow of pale light streaming through his much too large windows, beside a boy his heart swelled for. To wake looking forward to getting up and starting the day, to look forward to actually going to work. And then, when the day was over, to come back to his love once more.

His time with him after dinner was spent either two ways; cuddled on the ivory couch, watching television in contentment, or, under those white sheets of their bed and not to reappear until several hours later.

A perfect life.

He awoke that morning, greeted by a caress of the soft lips of his love who lay beside him.

"Stay, Baz."

"I can't, you know I have to get up."

"...Please?"

He rolled onto his side, lips stretched upwards in a grin as he peered down at the green eyed boy. "It's a half day for everyone at Pitch Industries, including me." He reached down, pressing a long kiss against plump lips. Pulling away, he found green eyes blinking back up at him, hopefully. "So, you'll be back early?"

"I will."

A perfect life.

Suit on, one that complimented his tall stature and warm olive complexion, hair combed carelessly back with one hand, he left their deluxe apartment and stepped outside, greeted with pouring rain.

He considered going back for an umbrella, but he was running late already and traffic was sure to be heavy. He had standards to keep up, and walking late into his own business was not a standard he would let stain his name.

A phone call. With a glance to the expensive screen, bright grey eyes squinting, he found it to be important, and so answered it. He could multitask without effort; maneuvering his way through the busy streets of London, whilst talking calmly on the phone through the downpour and searching for a cab was no problem.

Or so he thought.

A free taxi, waiting patiently on the other side of the street. He crossed, triumph in his step and satisfaction laced through his features, only a semi-wet suit to show for his troubles.

Maybe he should have stayed in the apartment.

Maybe he should have rolled around in the sheets with his pretty boy for a few minutes longer.

Maybe he should have went back for that umbrella.

Maybe he should've stopped, and bloody looked.

These were the thoughts that raced through his mind as the sound of a deafening horn blew in his ears, pain engulfed every one of his senses and the world went black.

A ruined life.


Simon

"So, um, I need a job."

I should've worn a different scarf today. Or no scarf at all. The one I'm wearing now just happens to be the itchiest one I could've worn. And it's not even nice.

I blame Penny for making me wear it; she insisted that the weather today was to be awful, and I suppose she was right about that. Hard frost lined the tops of bushes and the sides of footpaths this morning when I left our apartment. I should've ignored her when it came to wearing the damned scarf though.

I shouldn't listen to Penny sometimes. Though I suppose she was only looking out for me.

The job seeker looks at me dubiously through squinted eyes and half moon glasses. She looks like a proper stereotypical office worker; one that wears high collared, crisp, white shirts, ancient looking black pencil skirts and hair pulled back way too tightly in a bun.

She pushes her glasses up her nose delicately, bony fingers darting over the keyboard. "Looking for a job, or want a job?" she asks, her voice surprisingly deep. I swallow, confused with her question.

"Eh, both I suppose?" I titter nervously. Out of reflex I rub the back of my neck (sheepishly, as Penny does say), and upon realising my habit, I yank my hand down and my fingers whack against the dark oak of the pristine table. I smile tightly through the sharp pain in my finger tips as the old lady raises a greying brow, unimpressed.

A few taps on her keyboard later and she addresses me again. "You last worked… where?"

"'Scones n' Stuff'. That cafe just down the street. Ran out of business" I say carefully. She batters away at the keyboard some more before squinting. She then turns the screen around to face me, but only a little, so I have to crane my neck to see clearly.

"Judging from the skills required for your last job, this should be quite fitting for you." She points with an ancient finger at her screen, tracing under some text in bold.

"'Carer, preferably young and flexible around the clock, needed for a disabled gentleman. Days; Monday to Sunday, from 9am till 7pm'", she reads, watery grey eyes glancing at me. I gulp, put off by the long work hours and lack of days off.

She raises her brow again. It's in desperate need of a plucking. "You did state earlier that you have experience as a care worker?" she inquires. I nod.

"And the pay?" I ask, fiddling with the edge of my scarf. Give me any job, but in the end, it's the pay I'm after.

"Reasonable- very reasonable. Twenty pounds an hour. Total of two-hundred pounds a day" she glances at me, expectantly.

"I'll take it."

XxX

"A carer?"

I sigh as I lather a slab of butter on my scone, fresh from Tescos (since the decline of Scones n' Stuff, Tescos will have to do).

"Yep" I confirm, "With really good pay."

Penny stands with her hands on her broad hips, squinting down at the contract papers strewn over our kitchen table. "How much an hour again?" she asks without looking up, and I'm glad she doesn't. Her chocolaty gaze is intense, and it makes me uncomfortable during times when I'm uncertain of myself and my decisions. Such as now.

Penelope Bunce, a short girl with a big heart, brain and attitude, is my best friend. I've known her since, I don't know, forever I suppose at this stage. Her parents have always acted as my own, since I never knew my real ones. When we weren't boarding at school, I stayed with her and her family; my years spent and memories made with them I will cherish forever.

Now that we've finished second level education, and we both are at the ripe age of twenty and twenty-one, Penny has gone on to college (which I will forever be pleased about. For Penny to not use her incredibly smart brain would be a bigger waste than throwing a fresh cherry scone in the bin), and I remain undecided with my college choices.

Though, and I will never tell her because I know she'd object, I'd much prefer to work and show my gratitude for her family's hospitality for me by for once providing for both of us, than to be too fussed with college.

And with this job, I certainly can.

"Twenty an hour, total of two hundred a day" I say, taking a deep bite of my scone. I relish the taste of the melted butter on my tongue.

Penny finally looks at me, peering over her cat-like rimmed glasses. I don't know why she wears them, and I tell her they look witchy. She says that's the aim. "This is a fully grown person we're talking about Simon. That's a lot of responsibility" she says, one dark brow dipping in concern. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

I swallow deeply, and then give her a wide smile, knowing full well that there's bits of scone stuck on my teeth, and it's grossing her out. "Relax Penny. With these arms, powered by the sacred power of cherry scones, I can take on anything" I flex my admittedly muscle-lacking biceps for good measure.

"Tesco scones, Simon."

"So? I don't discriminate."

I stand from my chair, dusting the sweet crumbs from my hands, and walk around the table to Penny. I throw an arm around her shoulder and pull her close, whilst keeping my eyes trained on the contract sheets strewn on the table.

"It'll be fine Penny, you'll see. After a few weeks, we'll have more than enough money to get that new sofa you're always on about."

"When you put it like that…"


Let me die.