It was something you were never able to figure out about yourself. You were constantly looking to google for some kind of diagnosis, but of course, google was the type to tell you that you had cancer and that you were going to die in the next twenty-four hours, if not the next hour. And you were too anxious for something like that…

It was something that made you lag behind other kids when you got to secondary school. You always felt woozy when you stood up.. your vision going black anytime you did anything a little too taxing on your body. And you may or may not have passed out one or two (or five) times during choir rehearsals because you either sang too hard, or locked your knees.

And as you got older, it got worse. Random dizzy spells when doing simple every days tasks, or just doing absolutely nothing, still mostly when standing up, not being able to run for very long, it was all just so… tiring.

So, like any sensible person, you went to the doctors. Your boyfriend, Andrew, going with you. It was a long, drawn out process, but after a blood test and answering some questions, you got diagnosed with an Iron deficiency. You basically just got told to eat iron-hefty foods and take iron supplement pills.

Today, you were working a hard day. It wasn’t a super stressful day. You had multiple commission paintings to finish, so you were quick to start your day, forgetting your iron pill and skipping breakfast and lunch… to Andrew’s disapproval, of course. And you had also forgotten to drink water. So, you were running on two cups of coffee and a dream, really.

You were in the zone, so to say, before everything just went black. Darkness, nothing… you were just painting, what the hell happened?

Your eyes opened blearily, looking around as you felt someone supporting your head and back. Once your eyes focused, you see Andrew, trying to get you to sit up and drink something. He had your iron pill in hand, giving you a stern look. Nothing that was meant to be mean or belittling. Just something that showed concern and worry for you.

Of course he’s be worried, you just passed out on the floor of your art studio because you haven’t eaten anything or taken your iron pill. You’ve been consuming nothing but coffee for the past twelve hours.

“Take this.” he says, setting the iron pill in your hand, “I told you to eat something. You need to listen to me sometimes.” He reprimands gently, watching you take the pill.