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I didn't know what to say to that—if there was anything I could say to that, so I just snuggled deeper into his frail chest, the words repeating in my head over and over again, making my head somehow spin though I wasn't moving. He didn't say much else in the following minutes, letting them sink further into my subconscious, hell into my conscious, almost as if him saying them out loud also made it all the more true, too.

I quietly then dared to say what was on my mind, "I thought we agreed on no more secrets."

He didn't answer me for a while.

He was brooding, not that I blamed him; in one of those moods where fuck you, I'm sick and you can't make me feel better was his mantra. So, I let him sit like that for a while, then I got up, sitting cross-legged and expecting a response. When I still didn't get one, I pointed a finger in his face, my eyes threatening tears. They spilled over and a part of me felt even more guilty seeing the pained look from my reaction.

I added, "We are a team, Riker. We are in this together, and I thought you knew that. I don't want secrets; you need to tell me these things." I pressed my lips together and tried to keep my voice level. I was still angry, still unable to completely process what him saying that meant for our future. I didn't want to think about it. "And now you're sitting here telling me something that I can't even comprehend, acting like my thoughts are not nearly as important as yours. Scratch that. I know that you are going through hell, but you didn't have to—you don't have to go at it alone. I thought we established that."

"You should've never dated me," he murmured quietly, not looking me in the eye. "You could've had a guy like Wes… a guy who is going to become someone, probably make good money and give you a few kids down the line. A decent house—not in this neighborhood. The perfect life."

I stopped him right there, "What is this idea of your perfect life? I don't want this so-called life! I chose you and I don't regret it and I will never regret that, Riker! I told you this the other night, you are it for me. You are everything and no matter what happens, that is never going to change. So please stop trying to push me away, tell me that I deserve some cardboard-personality, snobby, piece of shit who I'd never look at twice in a million years and work with me here because I love you and I just want you to know that!"

I am dramatic. We were well aware of that, but sometimes it really worked. In those moments, it finally seemed to sink into his thick skull. He nodded, slowly at first and then fast, as he came forward and hugged me. He was murmuring into my ear, apologizing and crying. I hated the change though I appreciated it at the same time, wishing for only a couple of seconds that we argued about normal things—not this crap.

"Do your parents know?"

"My mom has an idea," he whispered, swallowing hard. Just that alone made his breathing labored. How long had he been feeling this way? Why did I not see this? I was so sure that I could see every emotion my boyfriend felt, that I was so in-tune with his personality. Somehow, this slipped right through.

"But not your father… Rydel?"

"None."

"Riker…"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Would you believe me if for a while, I thought I could will it away?"

I bit down on my lip. I understood it, but I also knew how stupid that was. "Riker…"

"Stop giving me those looks."

I sniffled, trying to remain strong now. I could have my breakdown in my room later, but not in front of him. It was time to wake up, toughen up, and prove that we were going to overcome whatever this meant for us. I am woman; I am strong.

"What does this mean now?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know."

The disease really hated me. No, seriously, it had some sort of evil plot against me, where it planned to completely and utterly ruin the one thing we were both excited about. But this was really just me trying to think of any sort of irrational reason for how I was feeling when I was awoken by sirens the night before we were supposed to go see Neon Trees together the next morning, only days after Riker's admittance to me in bed.

It was horrible. The lights filled my room, red and blue, casting shadows and making me nearly fall down the stairs in time to have a serious case of déjà vu wash over me. This time, we were talking, so it wasn't like he was mad at me. I had nothing to do with whatever happened this time, at least as far as I knew. But seeing the ambulance, seeing the familiar tear-stained faces of his mother and Rydel standing in the doorway reminded me that this was all too real and there was not some sort of disease god who thought it funny to ruin our date. This was real life and it just sometimes flat out sucked.

I rushed over the dew-ridden grass, urging them for some sort of answer. Rydel hiccupped at me, waving her hands around and muttering half sentences for me to try to decipher. Riker was already inside of the ambulance and his father was fumbling with medications and medical histories, swearing they'd be right behind them with the car.

As if by cue, Stormie grabbed the keys from her purse, which was clutched at her side and walked stoically toward the vehicle. I glanced at my house, at the house which held my sleeping parents, and then down at my pajamas, and all together just said fuck it. My boyfriend was being whisked off to the hospital in the middle of the night for the second time in less than six months, and this time, I wanted to be there when he was allowed visitors.

So, I wordlessly hopped into the backseat, and I was glad when no one else questioned it either. Mark had gotten into the red vehicle with his son, leaving us girls to drive in the dark to the hospital, all wondering what it meant for our futures. Futures. That word seemed like poison.

By the time we got there, he was already being worked on by doctors and nurses, and Mark had joined us in the waiting area. No one had yet to tell me what happened, but I was sure if I actually thought about it, I could piece it together. Rydel did tell me minutes later, explaining that she heard him gasping in his sleep, only to rush into the room and only find him worse off than she thought, unable to breathe completely. She got her parents, who called for help, and the painful minutes that followed did not need any sort of explanation. The horrible details I could fully imagine and would only wish I could delete from my memory in the future.

"What now?" I said hoarsely, unsure why my voice was gone when I hadn't even used it.

Rydel shrugged, "We wait."

"For what?" I asked, my voice more demanding than I meant it to be. "He's in there. They can't tell us anything? I'm pretty sure they must know something by now."

"They're getting him settled," Mark stated and I nearly jumped out of my skin at his voice. He hadn't spoken directly to me, unless absolutely necessary in months. As much as he tolerated me, he did not forget to let it show that I was still the girl who had pushed her way in and didn't care that he didn't like her. I guess in a weird way, I had earned his respect. I stared at him, and he stared back at me with bleary eyes.

In those moments, I saw how old both of his parents looked. They weren't much older than mine, if even older. But they both had the look of a parent with a seriously ill child, a child who they knew would never outlive them. The over protectiveness, and cold shoulders and everything in-between made sense more in those moments than it ever did before. I actually felt for Mark. I understood where he was coming from and an odd part of me wanted to give him a hug.

Before that idea actually went into motion, the doctor was calling us to the front of the room.

I can't help but think I probably should've watched my footing more, but I nearly tripped over Rydel at some point. We still made it to the doctor, albeit not so gracefully, in a few seconds. He quickly droned on about things that did not seem like English and when he was gone, we all looked expectedly to Mark for an answer.

He just looked sad. "I don't know what else to say," he admitted. "Riker's sick. We all know that. I just don't know what else to say anymore. Let's go see him."

I'd be lying if I got any alone time with Riker that night. His parents were clearly worried about him and he was so ill, so exhausted and without oxygen that he barely remembered seeing any of us anyway. I knew I remembered picking up his finger tips and seeing them twinged with blue and that alone made me want to run from the room and empty my stomach contents somewhere. I stuck it out though; with Rydel, until the sun rose and we were piled on a corner cot with some sort of miracle hopes in our head.

By the time he was aware and awake, it was nearly noon. The doctors had discussed early that morning, while he was still out of it, that they would have to try an extreme cocktail of medications because his oxygen levels were a devastating low: under thirty percent. According to the doctor, it was a miracle he made it without a visit here that long. A part of me shrank away, wondering how we all missed this.

I left for a brief period in the morning, going home to change and get a few things. I brought coffee for his family, a few sandwiches and even a couple things for Riker. Again, we weren't alone, and they were discussing what he'd be taking in the coming days to fight off not only one, not two, but three infections that were currently plaguing his body. The information was absolutely overwhelming and there were times during the day that I couldn't look at him without feeling sick to my stomach.

We spent the majority of the day there. I'd called early to cancel our concert with Neon Trees, feeling sad but not because I was missing it, but because Riker had been thrilled when I showed him his gift. He clearly had no recollection of the event, for which I was glad, and I just hoped it stayed that way a while until I was able to make it up to him.

The drugs started making him sick around five that night. They were giving him five antibiotics, two protein pills, and a whole other list of things that I couldn't pronounce or know the meaning for. The entire little jar he was expected to take would've made me gag the moment I put them into my mouth, but his reaction didn't come until sometime later. They had put one of those fancy, vibrating jackets on him, hoping to loosen some of whatever was in his chest, but it only resulted with the bed sheets having to be changed from the bile that now covered it—Riker wouldn't eat solid food, so they were pumping him with these liquid meals, high calorie supplements that somehow went right through his stomach and left him with nothing but acid inside.

I felt horrible for him, but more horrible for Rydel and her parents, who watched helplessly yet somehow with familiarity to all of it. They'd been through this before. The horror wasn't new to them like it was to me. They knew they couldn't change it.

I still thought somehow I could.

Soon, I was able to get them to escape the room, if only to go home and shower and come back. It was nearly eight at night, and Riker's stomach had finally settled, so they were reluctant but also willing to give me reign for an hour or so. Alone, I pulled a chair over to his bed and stared at him with sad eyes. His own were just as sad, just as exhausted and had it not been for both of us looking this way, I would've thought it was not even real. But the little noise that came from his oxygen tubes around his nose reminded me this was all very real.

I took his hand and held it, feeling the cool fingertips beneath mine. "Just think—when this is all said and done, it'll almost be time for prom."

He smiled lazily at me. "Prom…"

"Yeah." I poked him gently on the cheek. "Don't think you're out of prom because of this, mister. I paid a lot of money for my dress."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured quietly, glancing at the clock. His eyes were tired, and though he'd slept the majority of the day on and off, he started to drift back to sleep.

"Sleep well," I said softly, kissing his hand. "We'll be here when you wake back up."

By the time his parents arrived back, I was told to go home and get some rest. I protested, swearing that I was fine and that I would stay and sleep again at the hospital, but Mark practically dragged me out, telling me to take Rydel with him. The both of us didn't understand why we were being forced out, but eventually went after one of the most terrifying looks his mother had ever given me. I didn't think she had a look like that in her.

We were almost to her parent's car when I started to cry.

It was soft and quiet at first, I was trying to control it. But then I couldn't anymore and I collapsed beside the vehicle, trying to grab it as I fell to the ground. Rydel came over to me and clutched my arm, pulling me into a hug. I'd like to say she was stronger than me and she pulled me together, but instead we just sat on the concrete and shared our fears together.