Stardust- Ringo Starr X Reader-OC

Hospitals smell like bleach and baby powder. Everything's too clean, too quiet- except for the man down the hall who won't stop coughing. I hate it here. Hate the food, the itchy sheets, the way the nurses act like I can't hear them when they whisper.

Then they wheel in a boy.

He's pale and bony, with dark hair stuck to his forehead and blue eyes that stare out the window like he wants to jump through it. He doesn't talk. Doesn't look at anyone. Just climbs into the bed next to mine and disappears into his own little world.

I ignore him at first. I don't have the energy for anyone else's problems. But after a few days, the quiet starts to feel louder than the coughing.

So I talk. Just to fill the space.

I tell him the dinner rolls taste like socks. That the nurse with the red lipstick hums when she's nervous. That I once stuck chewing gum in a bully's hair and blamed it on a ghost.

He doesn't say a word. Just listens.

Until one night, he says, "Millie's a funny name."

I turn and shoot back, "Yours is Richy. Sounds like something you'd name a hamster."

He smirks. I grin.

After that, something clicks.

We fold paper cranes out of tissues. He drums little beats on the bed rail while I hum along. He calls me bossy. I call him weird. We laugh too much for a hospital.

One night, we sneak out of bed and sit by the hallway window. The stars look cold and far away. I make him pinky swear we'll be friends forever.

He links his finger with mine and nods. "Alright."

A few days later, my mum shows up with my coat in her arms and tears in her eyes.

"You're better," she says. "Time to go home."

I look at Richy. He's still tapping that rhythm on the rail. I wave. "I'll visit."

He waves back. Doesn't say anything this time.

And then I'm gone.

Just like that.

And kids... we make promises like chalk on the pavement. Soft. Quick. Easy to wash away.

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I do not own anyone or anything mentioned.