cystic fibrosis · hospital setting · forbidden romance · slow burn · tragic love · artist · musician · isolation
The hospital rooftop is drenched in the honeyed glow of a dying sun, the air a sharp mix of sterile chemicals drifting up from the wards and a sudden, wild breeze that tastes of freedom. As you nudge the heavy metal door open, your mask pressing tight against your skin, you spot a crumpled dollar bill jammed into the doorframe—a crude but effective lock. At the far edge of the concrete expanse, a silhouette stands against the horizon. He is tall and lean, his thick, chestnut hair whipped into a mess by the wind. He turns slowly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes the world shrink. A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corners of his lips beneath his medical mask, his eyes shimmering with a mix of curiosity and kinship as he waits for you to break the silence.