"Hey, bitch! Wake up!" I shouted into his ear, shaking him until he started moving. He grimaced, as he reluctantly peeked one eye open.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He rasped. I couldn't tell if he was grumpy about me waking him up, angry about the name, confused, or all of the above.

"You heard me," I responded, my hand still on his shoulder, shaking him. Carson shoved me off of him, groaning as he sat up. I watched him impatiently as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. After about the tenth yawn and the fiftieth arm stretch, I couldn't wait anymore.

"Carson," I sighed.

He finally turned to look at me, "What?"

I rolled my eyes, "You've already been asleep for too long and now you're moving at a snail's pace!"

He raised a brow and looked from me to the alarm clock, then back to me. "It's ten in the morning. What's the rush?"

"We're supposed to meet my parents at eleven, and you take forever to get ready."

"I'm sorry, I take forever to get ready?" He laughed, incredulously.

"Yes, you stand in the mirror staring at yourself for like fifteen minutes every day!"

He shrugged, "I can't help that I look good."

"Whatever! Let's go, we have to get up."

I slid off the bed, and reached for his hands, trying my best to pull him up, but he was deadweight. There was a faint expression of amusement on his face as I struggled to move him. Eventually, I gave up.

"Carson," I groaned. "Get out of bed."

"I like to spend my mornings in bed," He said through an unenthused yawn, laying down on his back and placing his head on the pillow. He had grabbed my arm too quickly for my reflexes and pulled me back into the bed with him. "Especially when you're underneath me."

I resisted the urge to slap him. Even as barely awake as he is, he always finds a way to make everything dirty.

"Seriously, we need to get out of bed."

"Okay, then, where do you want to go? The shower? The window? The kitchen counter top?"

"Carson, I swear to God."

"Okay, okay," He huffed, finally dragging himself out of bed and I followed. He shuffled in front of me, shoulders slumped over and eyes droopy, over-exaggerating his drowsiness.

"Good," I said, smiling and ignoring his dramatics. "Let's get ready and we'll meet at your car in twenty minutes."

He nodded his head, yawning once again, "Okay."

"Alright, then." I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, "Bye, I love you."

I quickly turned away and made a beeline for the door. I hadn't gotten more than two steps away from him, before I heard him click his tongue, and not a second later, his hand clasped down on my wrist, gently tugging on it.

"Hold it," He commanded. I scrunched up my face, attempting to get to the door once again, but his grip was strong. When I refused to turn and face him, he pulled me back into him, spinning me around.

Carson had a small smile on his face, one of the corners quirked up deviously, a brow raised, and bright eyes focused in on me.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"You know what."

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

"I love you?" Carson asked, repeating my words.

"Yeah," I responded, meaning it to come out all confident and not nearly as soft as it did.

"You love me?" He asked.

I rolled me eyes, "Do we really have to make this such a big deal?"

"Maddie?" The smug look was still on his face, as if this was all a game we were playing, but I could read his eyes, silently begging me to confirm what I said was true.

I grabbed the sides of his face in my hands, pulling his face closer to mine, "I love you, Carson."

Carson smiled, one of those big smiles that he rarely ever has. I wish he would always smile like this. He threw his arms around me in a haphazard sort of way, pulling us down onto the bed. He practically tackled me into the sheets as he wrapped himself around me, burying his face into my neck.

"Carson, we're going to be late," I reminded him. His grip didn't loosen. I could feel his lips stretching into an even wider smile.

"I don't care," He responded. "You just said you love me."

I sighed, absently tracing random figures onto his shoulder blade with my finger. "It's not really new, I've loved you for quite a while."

His head shot up and he glared at me, "You've loved me for 'a while?' You've loved me for a while and you're just saying something now?"

"I was picking my moment!"

"And you picked twenty minutes before we have to leave to go to a hospital, while we're both in our pajamas and have yet to brush our teeth to be the moment to tell me you love me?"

"You remember when I told you I liked you; we both know I'm not good at picking my moments."

He chuckled and settled back down against me. "We seriously have to get going," He said after another minute or so.

"You're the one on top of me."

"Maddie?"

"Yeah?"

"How long have you loved me?"

I sighed, "How long have I loved you, or how long have I known I love you?"

I felt him shrug, "Both."

"I think I knew I loved you that morning in Hilton Head, when I was hungover and vomiting and probably the grossest thing to ever wake up to, and you just didn't care. You sat there with me all morning, even if you wouldn't shut up about how I smelt like vomit."

I felt him laugh, his warm breath fanning over my skin.

"How long I've loved you?" I laughed to myself. "I think this entire time."

He tensed, "This entire time?" I nodded.

"When I first moved in?"

"Yes?"

"The first time we slept together?"

"Yes."

"That night in the alley?"

"Duh. It should have clicked for me right then. I was terrified I was losing you."

I felt him shaking his head, "Just how long do you mean? Where does 'this' start?"

I place one of my hands just under his jaw, gently pulling his head up so he was looking at me and we could have this conversation face to face. "The same place it starts for you," I responded.

"You can't mean that," He scoffed.

"Carson, I followed you everywhere you went in sixth grade; even if it was to insult you, I spent the entire year trying to be near you. In eighth grade, I made the conscious decision to kiss you during spin the bottle even though the bottle was clearly pointing at Dylan. And homecoming, sophomore year. Do you really think no one asked me to go? For God's sake, I gave you head for a stupid story I could have easily found out myself!"

"Well, it all seems simple when you put it like that!" He said.

"I know, that's probably the worst part. It all makes sense now, after the fact."

"We really do suck at this, don't we?"

I hummed in agreement. "It's lucky we ended up together. I couldn't imagine the chaos of trying to date someone who actually understands feelings."

"Nuh-uh, me neither," He replied. "Very lucky, indeed."

We fell back into silence, his lips moving softly against my neck everyone once in a while. I was aware that twenty minutes had long passed, and still, I had no desire to move. Even if we had to. He was the first to break the silence.

"Katie's death?" He asked.

"Yes."

"This entire time?"

"This entire time."

* * *

"Carson!" I called, trying to stop him as he walked briskly away from me. He made his way up the stairs, completely ignoring me.

"Carson!" I tried again. I did my best to keep the frustration out of my voice, but after a very quiet and borderline scary car ride back, I was almost at my wit's end. I ran after him, up the stairs. Damn him and his long legs.

I heard his door slam shut, just before I got to the top step.

"Carson, please!" I pleaded.

.

.

"Right, well," My mother said, placing her fork down. "It was nice of you two to join us for lunch."

"Thanks for having us," Carson said sweetly, innocently, like he hadn't told her daughter less than thirty minutes ago that when we got back home he was going to fuck me until I pass out on his dick.

"While you two are both here," My father spoke up, his tone turning serious, greatly contrasting from the light-heartedness of our prior conversation. "There's actually something we want to talk to you about. We want to show you something."

Carson and I shared a look. Neither of us knew what they had planned.

My mother nodded her head, standing up from her seat, "If you'll follow us, please."

I took Carson's hand as we followed my mom and dad out of the hospital cafeteria. They were leading us across the hospital, and we trailed behind them, passing over two skywalks and taking three separate elevators.

I started to recognize the surroundings, making out which part of the hospital we were in. By the look in Carson's eyes, I could tell he was figuring it out, too.

The walls had become vibrant colors, rather than the muted neutral tones, and the paintings were filled with animals or mermaids or ballerinas. We were heading into the children's wing.

As we approached the glass doors that served as the entrance to the pediatric wing, I felt a tug on my arm and realized Carson wasn't at my side anymore. He was standing a few steps behind me, an anxious expression riddling his face.

"Carson?"

I was aware that my mother and father had stopped walking in front of us, obviously waiting for us to join them.

He shook his head, "I don't- I can't go in there."

"Carson," I said again, walking back to him. I placed my hands on either side of his face. He looked down at me, lips forming a straight line and his brows furrowed in.

"It's alright," My mother said, appearing at our side. "We don't have to go any further. We can stay out here."

Carson nodded, pulling me against his side. "Why are we here?" I asked.

My mother and father shared a look, "The hospital is going to be going through some changes."

"Changes?" I asked.

My dad held up a finger, before turning away and entering the children's wing. He came back a few seconds later, holding a large white board in his hands.

"We're making an addition to the hospital," My mother smiled.

"An addition?"

On cue, my father flipped the board around, and I held back a gasp.

The board lay out a diagram of an extension onto the children's part of the hospital. Across the top of the board in large blue letters "THE ANGEL WING," and under it, in a slightly smaller font: 'In memory of Katherine Violet Daniels.'

"It's going to be a place for family members to stay while their child is receiving extended care at no extra charge to the family," My mother explained. "There'll be rooms that can double as patient and guest rooms, and it will be fully equipped with nurses on every floor and other medical personnel. It'll have a cafeteria, full bathrooms, and playrooms for the children."

I looked up at Carson to see what his reaction to this was. His eyes were watery, but the rest of his face was made of stone.

"And, we'll be holding a fundraiser in the near future, and the profits will be put towards the new wing and updating our cancer research facility to one of the best internationally."

"Who- Was this your idea?" He asked my mom.

"Actually, it was mine," Another voice came. Mrs. Daniels emerged from behind my parents. She was wearing her white coat, and a formal business dress under it. She strode up to us in confidence, but her gaze was flickering and she was wringing her hands.

I watched Carson's eyes go wide in shock, then quickly narrow as he recovered, anger washing over him.

"Carson-" She started.

"No," He said, shaking his head. "No. You don't get to do this."

I placed a hand on his chest, "Carson, maybe you-"

He pulled away from me quickly, still shaking his head. He turned and started running down the hall.

.

.

I wiggled the handle, which moved up and down with ease. The door was unlocked.

Sometime more recently during the past year, Carson and I had figured out a system since he could never bother to knock. If the door was locked, that meant to leave the other alone. If the door was unlocked, even if it was closed, that meant it was okay to enter.

I doubted he had meant to leave it unlocked, just too preoccupied with thoughts and emotions to consider keeping me from entering the room. Still, I needed to be in there with him, if more for my sake than his.

I pushed open the door gently. His room was dark; all of the lights were off and the blinds were drawn.

"Carson?" I called quietly.

I made my way to the bed, noticing the large bump protruding from the mattress. I sat on the edge of the bed, inches from his stomach. He had pulled the sheets over him, his head barely peaking out. He wasn't looking at me, just staring blankly, angrily at the wall in front of him.

And I had nothing to say, no comfort to give him. Because my reaction would have been the exact same.

* * *

"Okay, enough," I said, grabbing the sheets and tearing them off the bed. Carson didn't so much as wince at the cold air; he stayed on his side, his back towards me and his head pushed down into the pillow. "It's been three days and you haven't left the bed. You're getting up."

He didn't move. His body lay still, if it wasn't for the slow rising and falling of his chest, I might have assumed he was dead.

"I swear to God, I'll call Dylan and he can come force you out if that's what you want."

He shifted the slightest bit, curling further into the pillow as if to ignore me. I sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. I felt like pulling my hair out, or screaming, just something to calm me or snap him out of his daze.

I turned my head to look at him. His face was mostly hidden, only the side of his jaw peeking out. I placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down his warm skin.

"Carson, I know you're angry and I know you're hurting, and I know you don't want to talk to me or your therapist right now, but I need you to at least get out of this bed."

He gave an almost inaudible grunt. I shook my head and bit my lip to stop a frustrated groan from escaping.

"Why? Why won't you get out of bed?"

I ran my hand down the full length of his arm, stopping once I reached his hand and lacing our fingers together. I gently pulled him forward, and reluctantly sat up, sliding off the bed. He tore his hand from mine and made his way into the bathroom.

I followed him in, watching silently as he tore off his shirt and started undoing the button of his pants.

"Are we going to talk about it?" I asked.

"No," He responded instantly, turning on the shower. He turned to look at me, eyeing up my fully-clothed body, nonverbally asking if I was joining him.

After slipping out of my clothes, I entered the shower behind him. He didn't pay any attention to me at first, silently washing himself. I placed my hands on his shoulders, gently massaging them as he leaned back against me.

"Did you know?" He asked quietly. His voice was low, and it was a quiet murmur against the shower.

"I didn't know what they had planned, no," I answered. Reluctantly, I continued, "But, I did know she was here."

I felt him pull away, cool air hitting my front side. He turned to face me.

"And you didn't tell me? You kept this from me?"

"I didn't want to tell you in case she left again," I explained. "I didn't know if she was going to stay. I didn't know that she did stay, Carson. I promise."

He wouldn't meet my eyes, but rather cast off his glance to the shower floor.

"But she did stay, Carson. She stayed. That should be worth something."

He shook his head, "What would be worth something is if they had never left in the first place."

"Would you rather she had never come back?" I asked. "Like- like your-"

"Like my father?" He finished, sneering. I nodded, hesitantly.

The question remained in the air. He didn't answer, and I'm certain he didn't know the answer. He moved to stand right under the stream of water, his head turned up, eyes closed and lips parted.

I watched him; he seemed less tense now. The muscles in his shoulders weren't stretched as tight and his jaw wasn't clenched any more. Eventually, he turned his head away from the shower jet, shaking the water from his hair and running a hand over his face.

He stuck out an arm and motioned with his fingers for me to come closer. I easily complied, moving to stand under the water with him. He wrapped his arms around me as I pressed myself further into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of my head, properly blocking the water from hitting me.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you, too."