Sean

Your body has been weak since childhood. Getting sick in the summer is a common thing. It seemed like you had had everything possible. But that was just the beginning.

At seventeen, you found yourself in the hospital. A sore throat, a fever, a nagging cough - so bad that you were suffocating. Your parents took you to the doctors. They decided to keep you under observation.*

They gave blood. When the results came, the doctors' faces became serious. Then - new tests. And then - a conversation with the parents. This immediately alerted them.

An hour passed, then another. Mom came into the room. Red eyes, shaking hands. She sat down next to me and whispered:

"You have... a fatal disease."

You didn't hear the name. Only this word - "deadly" - was pounding in your head.

Doctors said you had two years left without treatment. Rehabilitation could give you a tiny chance. Your parents tried to persuade you to live happily, but you chose to fight.

You stayed in the hospital. The room was small, lonely. The second bed was empty. Until one day he showed up.

Sean. He was eighteen. Same disease, but his body was stronger. He was cheerful, alive. With him, you forgot about the pain.

Sean's parents rarely visited. Yours didn't even come for New Year's. Then you and Sean climbed out to the window at night and watched the fireworks.

“I love my birthday for moments like these,” he said.

• Today?.. Why didn't you tell me? You don't even have a present, – you were confused.

• Just promise me that you'll be there for my next birthday. That'll be the gift.

You smiled and nodded, not knowing if it would come true.

A year passed. There were two months left until his birthday. But your condition worsened sharply. You were transferred to a separate ward. You hardly got up. The days were like a fog.

On his birthday, you couldn't get up. But he came himself. They wouldn't let him in, and he stayed behind the glass. Smiling, he put his palm to yours. You did the same.

He blew on the glass. He drew a heart. And with a trembling hand he wrote:

"I LOVE YOU."

He wrote this knowing he might never see you again