25-Roads To Forever || One Shots

A Heart For You

River POV-

My life has revolved around the hospital ever since I was diagnosed with leukemia back in middle school. Now, at 21, it's still the same bed, the same dull white room, the yucky smell of medicine, and the not-so-tasty food.

Outside, life keeps moving-people laughing, cars rushing by, the sun shining like it always does. And here I am, stuck in this room, wondering what comes next. But giving up isn't my thing. If life's going to be tough, I'll be tougher.

I pick up my sketchbook from the table beside me. Drawing is my escape. When I feel trapped, it's the one place where I can feel free. I flip to a blank page, my pencil resting on the paper. After a moment, I start to draw a river-strong and flowing, never stopping, no matter what's in its way.

That's who I am. I'm River. I may be sick, but I'm not giving up.

Leo's POV:

I've spent most of my life within these four white walls. The hospital is more than just a place for healing; it's my home. I'm 24 now, but I've been here since high school, ever since my heart decided to work against me. They call it cardiomyopathy, but to me, it's just the thing that stole my freedom.

I've memorized every crack on the ceiling, every routine of the nurses, and every beep of the monitors. They say you get used to it, but honestly, you don't. Some nights, I lie awake, listening to the hum of machines and wishing for silence-or better yet, the sound of the world outside.

I wonder what it's like to live out there. To breathe fresh air without worrying if my heart will keep up. To run, laugh, maybe even love without the fear of breaking. But I've learned not to hope too much. Hope can be heavy when your reality is this.

River's POV:

Leo has been here almost as long as I have. Our beds are side by side in the ward, separated by a thin curtain that doesn't do much to hide his quiet sighs or the sound of him flipping through books. For nearly a year now, I've heard those sounds every day. They're as familiar as my own heartbeat.

At first, we didn't talk much. I was too focused on my own mess, and he seemed... distant, like he had built a wall around himself. But slowly, we started to exchange small words-a "good morning" here, a comment about the weather there. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Leo is quiet, but I've learned to read him in other ways. The way his eyes light up when he talks about a book he's reading. The way he looks out the window, like the world outside is some far-off dream he can't quite reach. He tries to hide it, but I see the sadness in his smile.

Sometimes, when the nights are long and the ward is too silent, we talk. Really talk. He tells me about the life he wishes he had, and I tell him about the life I'm scared of losing. In those moments, it feels like we're the only two people in the world who understand each other.

I don't know what's ahead for either of us. But I do know that having Leo beside me makes this place feel a little less lonely. And in a world like ours, that means everything.

Leo's POV:

River's been in the bed next to mine for almost a year now. At first, she was just another patient, but over time, she became more than that.

We started with small talk, but now, we share pieces of ourselves-dreams, fears, and everything in between. She's the one person who gets what it's like to be stuck here, living life one hospital day at a time.

Her laugh is soft, her presence steady, and somehow, she makes this place feel a little less like a prison. I don't know what I'd do without her.

River's POV: