As we drove into the garage of Miles' apartment the next day, all I could think about was how I didn't want this trip to end. The songs Miles sang in the concert still rang in my mind like a pleasant echo. I spent all night dancing until my feet hurt.

I forced myself not to linger on what Roger said or the text I read from Izzy but throughout the trip, their words bounced around in my mind, making me wonder when all this magic would end. This weekend was more fun than I had in a long time, and it saddened me that it could end as quickly as this all started.

As we pulled into his garage, a small lump formed in my throat as I knew that I wasn't his and this weekend trip was for friends only. Once I stepped from the car, I knew that whatever touch or words shared between us would evaporate.

Silently, Miles looked at me with a frown. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was. Neither of us wanted this weekend to end just yet.

With a sigh, Miles got out of the car. "After that long drive, I'm happy to be home." Although he didn't sound happy about it.

Soon we found ourselves standing in front of Miles' apartment. My eyes fell on his lips, but I quickly looked away, not giving myself the chance to swim in the possibilities that maybe he cared for me the same way I did about him. This was where I said goodbye, but I didn't want to. I sighed, hoping that where would be something that would force me to stay.

"Want to come in?" he asked as the door opened.

Even though I should go home, his words tempted me, and his white smile and dark green eyes melted my soul. For another moment, I wanted to have one more selfish moment before reality hit. "Sure, I can stay for a little," I said and followed him into the apartment.

"Want something to drink?" he asked as he started walking to his liquor shelf.

I shook my head. "No thanks."

He nodded as he walked back to me, leaving the cup untouched on the counter. He closed the gap between us, then brushed some of my hair from my face, tucking it carefully behind my ear. "After these concerts, I often let myself swim in the deep dark end of my thoughts, but with you, I find it impossible."

He was so close to me I could almost taste him. My heart raced as he leaned closer as if testing the waters. He then pulled me in closer and kissed me lightly and almost instantly, he pulled back to meet my eyes, reading what I would do next.

My heart practically stopped. My world stopped. I could still feel him on my lips as I stared back at him. Did he actually want this like I wanted him? Or was this something he thought it fun to do?

"I've been wanting to do that for a while. I have feelings for you, Isla, and I hope you have the same for me."

I melted as I grabbed his hands. This was the moment I was waiting for, confirmation. He was falling for me, too. The doubt about the Izzy text flew from my mind as I pulled him in again, not wanting the moment to fizzle like flat soda.

Carefully I brushed over his lips until we were wrapped up in each other. I let him take over my mind, letting all other thoughts jump off a cliff. The Izzy text didn't matter, my history project didn't matter, the rumors about me at school didn't matter. All that mattered was that I wanted him, Miles Kit Keen, and it was clear to me he wanted me too.

He deepened the kiss and we stumbled to the couch. Although we didn't break for air as we continued to kiss.

I didn't want to be his friend anymore. I wanted to be his. Only his.

Breaking us from our moment was a buzz from my phone. I pulled out of the kiss, out of breath, and saw a reminder to pick up Everly from cheer practice in 15 minutes. And just like that, all my responsibilities flew back into my mind like a boomerang. I didn't want to leave but I had to. "I have to go."

"Ok." Although, his eyes told me he wanted me to stay, too.

I stood up from the couch and straightened out my shirt, making sure it didn't look like I had been making out for the last ten minutes. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll see you then." He stood up from the couch and almost instantly, his smile slid off his face. He brought his hand to his head as he stumbled back onto the couch and, as quickly as he fell, I watched as his joy turn into worry.

"Are you ok, Miles?"

He shook his head as he let out a pained breath. "My right side feels like it's on fire," he said as he shook his hand, as if that would make everything better.

I cocked my head to my side, never hearing that before. "What?"

Miles laid down on the couch and let out a slow breath. He brought his knees to his chest. "Don't worry about it."

I shook my head, knowing there was so much to worry about. He looked like pain engulfed him. "Not going to happen."

He looked at the floor in defeat and, as the minutes ticked by, I watched as he sunk deeper into a pit of pain.

Memories of watching Dad slip away into pain filled my mind. For a moment, I couldn't breathe as flashbacks hit me, crushing me. Miles was dying too. I couldn't deal with this. Images of Dad on the couch, crying at Mom, asking her for help.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to blink them away. My hands shook as I ran them through my hair. I wanted to escape this but I couldn't leave him like this.

Breathe.

I let out a labored breath and pulled out my phone, quickly texting Mom, informing her I couldn't pick up Everly.

Breathe.

I fought the numbness in my body as I knelt beside Miles, brushing some of his hair out of his face. His eyes told me this wasn't something new and he had been through this before. "Miles, please tell me what's going on."

"Can you just go?" he begged me.

Shoving memories of my father away, I knew this wasn't the time to leave. He needed someone as much as he wanted to push me away. "No."

His eyes shifted towards the door but didn't protest. For minutes, we stayed in silence, waiting for something to happen.

It wasn't until sunset that I realized I had been here for an hour, but his condition had not changed. He was suffering. "Miles, please tell me what I can do to help. And don't tell me to leave."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Can you take me to the hospital?"

I nodded, not caring if it was my fear to return there. "Ok," I said to him as I stood up from the ground and offered my hand.

He took my hand and peeled himself off the couch with some difficulty. He slipped on a pair of flip-flops as I wrapped my arm around him for support. As we walked out of his apartment, he clung to me, as if not wanting me to leave his side.

"It's going to be ok," I said confidently even though I didn't know what was happening.

He nodded in silence, but his mind was elsewhere.

We got into a half-full elevator and without waiting a moment, Miles pulled his arm away from me. He smiled at them with an energy I knew he didn't have.

"Oh my gosh! Are you Kit Keen?" a young woman gushed.

Miles nodded. "That's me."

"Wow, can I have a photo with you?" another one asked.

"Of course."

The two quickly snapped a photo together, before the girl smiled again at him.

"You're even more handsome in person," she giggled as the doors opened and she rushed out.

With the elevator completely empty, Miles put his arm around me again.

Once we made it to the garage, I held out my hand. "Keys," I commanded him.

He fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them to me.

I got into his car and, without waiting for him to buckle up, I sped out of the garage. Worry took hold again, fearing the worst for him. He was dying, that was why he didn't want to tell me the truth, I was sure of it.

Within minutes, I found myself looking at the same hospital that visited weeks ago. I didn't think I would go back. Anxiety took over as I looked at the large modern building. The times I spent here with Dad were more than I could count. My eyes welled up with tears as I relived the past all over again. Dad died and just like him, Miles would too. The hospital didn't fix anyone, they wouldn't fix him.

My heart raced and once again, Dad's voice rang out in my mind telling me breathe, to calm down. I just had to hold it together. I just needed to get him in there. With a deep breath, I got out of the car and went to Miles side of the car and pulled him out.

There was a slight shine of sweat on his face, and his body looked pale and clammy. Dad's body looked like this before. "Miles, we're almost there," I reassured him as we walked into the ER. I plopped him in the nearest chair. "I'll be right back."

"Just tell them I'm here. I'm on record. Don't be too long."

And suddenly it made sense why he knew the workers the first time we came here. Miles was sick, and he was hiding it from the world. This was his secret and now I knew it.

"Ok," I said and hurried off to the front desk. "Um, Miles Keen is here. And I think he really needs help." I pointed back to Miles.

The nurse looked up from her paperwork then looked at Miles. "Ok," she said and quickly typed something on her computer.

Within a minute, another nurse came through some hinged doors and said, "Miles Keen?"

Miles looked up at her and nodded. He pushed himself up from the chair and stumbled back into the seat.

Seeing his struggle, the nurse ran to get a wheelchair and within seconds, he was sat in the wheelchair. He looked at me, ashamed of his state but he shouldn't be ashamed. To calm him, I rested my hand on his shoulder as I walked through the doors with him. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

He smiled as if to tell me he was ok as the nurse spoke up, "Stay here for a moment, please." With that, she took him back to a room, leaving me alone in the waiting room.

In the waiting room, I couldn't fight the memories I had here. Miles was behind those doors, and I had no idea what was happening. So many times, Dad was pushed through those doors, leaving me alone with my siblings and Mom to worry in silence.

No one told us kids his condition, like a mystery that was a sick game to solve. It would be like that today. My heart raced as I paced the room. My breath was shallow as I tried to convince myself Miles would be alright.

I kicked the wall door in frustration. The numbness in my body was replaced by pain shooting up from my foot. I shook my leg for a moment before the memories of my father talking to the doctors behind closed doors came flooding back.

"Miles is dying," I said to myself as if I knew it for a fact.

Minutes ticked by until the door opened again another nurse walked out to the waiting room. "He's asking for you," she said as she pointed towards me.

I followed her through the double doors until I walked into the small hospital room to see Miles laying in a bed covered in a light sweat. He looked uncomfortable as he tugged lightly on the IV in his arm, not realizing I arrived. I cleared my throat, making my presence known.

He stopped to stare at me. "I'm ok," he said as if trying to convince himself of the same fact.

I nodded as I sat down on a chair by his bed. Dad would give me the same false promises. "I know you are."

He looked confused for a moment, "You do?"

I nodded. Whether Miles was ok or not was a different story, but right now, he just needed to be told what he wanted to hear. I did the same thing with dad. It was better this way. "Of course I do."

Breaking us from our moment was the same nurse that walked in again. "We're going to get him into an MRI since there's no line. You're more than welcome to wait here," the nurse said to me kindly.

Miles reached for my hand. "Will you wait for me?" he begged, not wanting to be alone. No one wanted to be alone in times like these.

I nodded. "Of course. I'll be here as long as you need me," I said and held his hand.

He gave my hand a squeeze. "Thank you," he said and with that, he let go of my hand and was pushed out of the room on the bed he laid on.

I let out a breath as I looked around the empty hospital room. More minutes ticked by as I tried to find ways to distract myself from all the haunted memories.

I remembered the first time I had to take Dad here on my own. I was only 15, not even old enough for my temps, and but we had no choice. I sat in his empty room for hours as they tested him. I was all alone as Mom and my siblings were out of town. Nerves took hold of me then too, not allowing me to breathe, eat, or even think clearly.

I wiped the tears from my eyes as I wiggled in the vinyl seat trying to get comfortable. I would cry as much as I wanted now, but would not let Miles see my tears. I didn't need him to worry. I looked out the window into the dark sky then took out my phone to check the time for the tenth time in the past 20 minutes. I had been waiting for an hour and a half.

When was he going to return? I didn't know how long MRIs took but I had a feeling they shouldn't take this long.

Almost another hour went by until Miles returned to the room. But this time, he was asleep.

"Is he alright?" I asked her, hoping for answers.

"I'm waiting for his neurologist to look at the results, but I think it's safe to say that he had an MS relapse," the nurse said as she locked the wheels to the bed into place. "I gave him something to rest a little better. He should sleep through the night."

My mind only clung onto one word in her comments. MS? I was not familiar with that, but it sounded serious. All I wanted to know was if he would die from it.

"Oh... you didn't know, did you?" she said with a frown, knowing that she said too much.

I shook my head. I had no idea. Questions swirled my head, making me dizzy. How long has he had this? Why didn't he tell me?

She mouthed an 'Oh' then looked around the room. "Please make yourself comfortable. If you want any snacks, please let me know," she said then scurried out of the door.

My gaze switched back to Miles. In his sleep, there was a slight smile etched on his face. He looked better.

"Why didn't you tell me about this, Miles?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't respond. I thought we were close but why didn't he share this information with me? Did he not trust me?

He stirred in his sleep, remaining silent.

I felt my phone buzz. I looked at it and saw a message from Mom. It was already 10:00 in the evening. I had lost track of time again. Knowing that it was a school day tomorrow, I had to get going. I quickly texted Mom and stood up from my seat, although I didn't like the idea that I was leaving him alone.

"I'll be back tomorrow," I promised then left the room for the night.