CARLY'S POV

I'm sitting in the cafeteria alone, poking at my salad with a plastic fork. I have no appetite whatsoever, nor did I want to leave Spencer's side, but he forced me to come down and eat something. He said that I need to take care of myself. I need to take care of him.

I'm checking my phone for the first time since last night. I have a load of texts and missed calls from Sam, Freddie, Gibby, and even T-Bo. They're all asking me what happened, if Spencer is okay, if I'm okay. I send them a group text telling them that Spencer passed out last night and he's having surgery in the morning. I let them know what hospital to come to if they want to come and wait with me, since it's probably best for me to be distracted by something. Lastly, I tell them not to worry. He'll be okay and I'm okay. I don't want them to worry. Worrying has seemed to become the theme of my life over the past couple months.

I take a few bites of my salad and throw away the rest. I return to Spencer's room; he's sitting upright in his bed, waiting for me.

"Sit down," he motions to the chair, "we need to talk."

I look to the ground. I have a feeling I know what's coming. I sit down in what has become my chair. I don't hold his hand this time around.

"What are we going to talk about?" I ask him.

He takes a deep breath. "This isn't going to be a pleasant conversation for either of us, but it's time that we get it out of the way. I want to talk to you about what will happen in the event of my death."

That word sends a dagger to my heart. I don't want to think about Spencer being dead. I grimace. "Stop."

"Carly, I'm going to say this whether you like it or not. So listen," he pauses. "I have a will written out. It's locked in where we keep our birth certificates and passports—you know where the key is. But I'll tell you what it says right now: all of my belongings will go to you. My possessions, my money, my insurance, the loft. Since you're an adult, it's all yours. I'll let you do whatever you want with it but you have to promise me something."

"What's that?" I ask him. I don't want to listen to this.

"You have to move on with your life. You can't dwell on my death. You have to go to college and pursue your dreams, whatever that may be. I'll be proud of you and looking down on you no matter what you do. Just keep your head held high and do what makes you happy. Don't forget about me, but also don't be sad about what happened. Remember me as I was before, when I was healthy and we had good times. Wipe the past couple months out of your memory and forget about them. Just make yourself happy and by doing that, make me proud. Do you promise?"

Silent tears stream down my face. I don't wipe them away. He's breaking my heart. "Spencer, I can't—"

"Do you promise?" he cuts me off.

I look into his eyes. "Yes. I promise."

"Good," he whispers, reaching to wipe my tears away. He leans forward and hugs me. I want to squeeze him harder than ever before, but I don't want to hurt him by doing so. We stay in an effortless, loving hug for awhile. Soon, Lisa knocks on the door and enters the room. I turn to look at her.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you can't spend the night in here, sweetheart. Let me escort you to the waiting area."

I look at Spencer. "You should go home and sleep in your own bed."

"No way. I'll sleep in the waiting room. I'm not leaving this hospital for anything." I plant a kiss on his cheek. "Get a good night's rest, Spence. Love you."

"I love you, too," he gives me another hug. It's time for us to pull apart and I leave the room, looking at him one more time before he's out of my sight.

Soon I'm back in the awful waiting room. The eleven o'clock news is being broadcasted on the TV. There are three other people in the waiting area. Two of them are sound asleep, clearly uncomfortable. That will be me in a few minutes.

I sit down in the corner and rest my head up against the wall. I set my phone alarm for seven AM to make sure that I'm up bright and early before Spencer's surgery, which is scheduled for ten.

I stare at the TV, but I'm not paying attention. I picture the doctors cutting Spencer's back open tomorrow morning. The image of his exposed insides—his blood and guts—makes my stomach upset.

I try to get some sleep but it's hard to with what's going on. I close my eyes and think of anything pleasant to help me relax and fall asleep—my favorite song, puppies, unicorns, Christmas, boys with British accents, cupcakes. Nothing quite works and I am wide awake.

I have a long, sleepless night at the hospital ahead of me.

I didn't realize how short this chapter was when I wrote it...sorry about that :/ I have longer ones coming up! :) Until then, R&R...it's much appreciated! I'll update soon. :)