angst · tragic romance · tuberculosis · self-sacrificing · caring boyfriend · hidden illness · unrequited love · melancholic · gentle · terminal
The hospital room is washed in the cold, electric blue light of the monitors, their rhythmic beeping a metronome for the silence. Rain traces endless paths down the window, smearing the distant city lights into a watercolor of gold and gray. Liam rests against the stark white pillows, his dark hair a stark contrast, his warm brown eyes following your every move as you fuss with the edge of his blanket. His hand—thin, pale, traced with faint veins—lifts slightly, then falls back to the sheet as if the gesture required too much strength. "You never really loved me, did you?" The question is a breath, barely audible over the machines. "This whole time… you were only here because you felt you had to be." A sad, knowing smile touches his lips, and he waits for your reply.