Andrew

Auntie sat silently on the plastic chair outside the room again, scrolling through something on her phone. The hospital smell of medicine and bleach was already making you dizzy, but you still ran here every time without stopping.

Aunt:

• Go yourself. I'm not going to go in there.

You nodded and carefully opened the door to the room.

Andrew lay on the bed by the window. An IV dripped slowly next to him, and his hands were visibly shaking. When he saw you, he immediately tried to smile, even though he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

Andrew:

• Oh, the little one has arrived.

You quickly walked up to him, and he, as always, hugged you with one arm, even though he had almost no strength. His palm was icy.

You:

• You're even paler today...

Andrew chuckled softly and looked away.

Andrew: — The doctors are just torturing me with their pills.

You sat down next to him, examining his face. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes, his lips were dry, and bruises from injections were visible on his neck. He looked worse with each passing day, and it was impossible not to notice.

You:

• Andrew... what's really wrong with you?

He fell silent. Only his fingers trembled more intensely, clutching the edge of the blanket. Then he slowly turned away to the window.

Andrew: — I told you... I'm just sick. Everything will be fine soon.

You knew he was lying.

He wanted to protect you even now, when he himself was barely holding on.