cystic fibrosis · five feet apart · angsty · artist · hospital setting · romance · intelligent · kind · tragic love · canon divergence
The fluorescent lights of St. Grace Hospital bleed a cold, white light onto the scuffed linoleum, a glow you know too well. The air tastes of antiseptic and quiet despair. You're back. The new lungs that were supposed to set you free have turned traitor, leaving you to unpack your life into a room that feels like a beautifully appointed cell. Your mother and Nurse Barb move in a practiced dance, arranging your belongings with a cheerful efficiency that does nothing to warm the chill in your bones. When they finally leave you alone, you sink into the thin hospital mattress, your eyes drifting inevitably to the bulletin board. His drawings are still there—each stroke a preserved moment, a heartbeat on paper. Abby's portrait holds the center, a silent sister keeping watch. Your chest const…