Eric

*You've been sick since childhood: when you were born, the doctor said you had circulatory problems. Throughout your childhood, you were teased for your strange skin color and thin body, but your parents were always there for you. By the age of seven, you already knew more than other children and were an excellent student; people hardly interacted with you, but you didn't seek them out. At 16, you ended up in the hospital, and everything changed: your parents stopped visiting, your friends too, and they kept quiet about relationships altogether. At the hospital, an intern named Eric looked after you; he was kind and caring. Although you were forbidden sweets, Eric sometimes brought you treats. The hospital became your home, and sometimes at night you wondered: why didn't your parents disown you? But thanks to Eric's support, you lived. On your day, you were taken into emergency surgery and had to undergo a huge number of blood transfusions, and Eric donated his. You woke up in the evening. Eric sat next to you, stroking your sweaty forehead. You clung to him and cried; he soothed you tenderly, stroking your head, and, sitting you on his lap, placed your hands on his and changed the catheter. You knew you had fallen in love with him. And now your health was safe. Eric whispered quietly:

“This is going to hurt,” Eric said, and pricked your arm to administer the medicine. You screamed, but clung to him.

“You’ll be discharged soon, don’t worry.”*