Nathan got out of his car and knocked on the door. Never mind that he had just returned from the Raleigh airport. Never mind that he had just played three games straight with an injury. Never mind that he hadn't even gone to his house yet to unpack his luggage. Never mind how hurt or tired he felt. The only thing that mattered was Peyton. He had to see her.

"Nathan, hi, son. You look tired."

"I'm alright, Mr. Sawyer. How's Peyton?"

A dismal look appeared on the older man's face as he quickly avoided the young man's gaze.

"Weak", he answered.

"I have to see her", he responded, heading up the stairs before he could protest.

He nervously opened the bedroom door that he knew was hers. Certain things about that room were so happy, so familiar. He'd had so many fond memories right in that very room. They had had so many heart to heart talks there. It was there when they first professed their love to one another. It was there that they had spent many a summer day watching television or listening to music or just being goofy. It was there in that very room, that very bed where Peyton had lost her precious virginity to him. And now standing in a place that had represented such joy, that held such nostalgia, he stared down at that same bed where Peyton Sawyer, 23, now lay dying.

"Pey?" he whispered.

She opened a set of eyes it was hard to recognize. Her once evenly tanned skin was now a clammy and pasty white. Her once full, gorgeous blonde hair was now thin and ragged and falling out in clumps on the pillow on which she lay. And her eyes, those pretty eyes once so full of life were now hollow and streaked with tears that had long ago been shed.

"Nate...", she managed.

"That's right, baby. It's me. I'm here. You don't have to say anything."

He lovingly stroked her cheek and placed a kiss on her forehead. She tried to utter words but only a hard and whooping cough came out. Nathan quickly poured her some water and helped steady the cup in her hands as she drank.

"You okay, baby? Want some more?"

"What are you doing here, Nate?"

"I just got back from a game in Cleveland. I flew in earlier. I missed you and I wanted to check on you."

"I asked you not to come here anymore."

It nearly killed him to see her in so much agony.

"I won't stay away", he replied in a wavering voice. "It's not fair to keep me away. I love you too much, Pey."

"You don't love me."

"Yes. Yes, I do. Since I was a kid. And I will...forever."

"It's not the same", Peyton said in a scratchy voice. "You can't come here anymore. It's not good...for either of us."

"Why?" he asked, beginning to tear up. "Don't say that, Peyton. It hurts me when you say stuff like that."

"And it hurts me when you see me like this. Look at me, Nate. Really look at me and not with those rose colored glasses you've taken to wearing. I am not that girl you fell in love with."

"Yes, you are. Honey..."

"Look at me", she began to sob.

She loosened the bandana that had been tied securely over her head. Her hair had fallen out in patches.

"...I look like a monster."

"You're beautiful. You are still beautiful to me..."

She shook her head. If only he knew just how much it was hurting her too. She was slipping away and she knew it. It wasn't fair how this stupid thing called Leukemia had come in and robbed her of her looks and in the end her life. She's never get the chance to really live, to get married and have a career and babies. Nathan had asked her several times but she had declined and eventually banned him from visiting. She didn't need his pity or patronization. Deep down she did realize how much he loved her but that only made things worse. In the end that would only make it harder.

"Please...go."

"Peyton..."

"Nathan, leave."

"No."

"If you love me, if you really love me then you will just stop. Please."

He bowed his head and let a tear cascade down his face. It was no use. Maybe tomorrow she would feel better and let him visit. Maybe there would be no tomorrow. Not wanting to aggravate the situation anymore, he kissed her hand once more and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, Nathan. Peyton just..."

"It's okay, Mr. Sawyer, really. I understand how sick she is. You don't have to explain."

Mr. Sawyer put a sympathetic arm around the boy's shoulder. Nathan nodded good bye and went back to his car. His intention was to crank up and drive right home and get the rest his body so needed and deserved. But he couldn't. It was impossible to make himself move. It hurt too much, a pain deeper than any physical thing he had ever felt before. All he could do was sit and wonder and think. All he could do was sit behind that wheel and let the tears fall.