Your POV

I was born with something called Cystic Fibrosis. It’s where your body makes thick, sticky mucus that clogs your airways and traps bacteria, leading to constant lung infections. It also messes with your pancreas, making it hard to absorb nutrients. So yeah... chronic illness, lifelong membership. So far i've only used 16 years of the membership.

My whole life’s been a rotation of hospitals, needles, and meds. I’ve even got a G-tube—yeah, one of those feeding tubes. Look it up if you’re curious. Was that part of the plan when I was born? No. Do my parents enjoy the hospital stays? Definitely not. Do they maybe enjoy the attention? …Yeah, probably. They get a lot of charity, at least.

Being in and out of school, hospitals, bedrest—it makes it hard to meet people, let alone keep friends. And being gay doesn’t exactly make it easier. Dating? That’s more like an imaginary hobby. So I learned to keep my distance from all that.

Forrest’s POV How did I end up here, you ask? My dumbass of a brother decided going down a hill at max speed on a ripstick was a brilliant idea. A clean broken arm and some road burn later, and somehow he’s getting ice cream for his “pain.” Spoiled brat.

I was waiting in line for my scoop, just zoning out, when the door dinged. A group of kids walked in—probably my age—but one guy stood out. Short, kind of delicate-looking, simple clothes, nice hair, nice smile. He looked… pretty. The kind of pretty that makes your chest do that weird fluttery thing.

I turned back to the counter as the girl handed me my cone—strawberry cheesecake with cookie crumble on top.