Author's Note: Okay, so I have all the time in the world, but I never write down anything I want to write down. It's like, writing is my passion but I can never sit down and write something coming from me. So I'm writing this as in memory of my bestfriend, Jake. He committed suicide on May 24-26th, 2010. I have not heard from him since, so he's most likely dead. It'll be the anniversary of his death next month, and the following on the 26th of June, is the day I started talking to him/his birthday. As you can imagine, it's hard for me. So this is what I'm writing, as it's for him.

He was my best friend and this story basically reflects his.

This first chapter is short for a reason. It gets longer, I promise. Let me know what you think, if it's bad so far, review please. Anyway, thanks.


You're Welcome.

"Are you finished?" The elderly, yet smiling, woman asked the petite Hyuuga. She was scribbling her signature before returning the clipboard, with a nod. The room was filled with an aroma of plastic gloves, and blood. "You can knock on Dr. Hatake's door in a few minutes, why don't you sit over there?" Nodding, the Hyuuga walked over to the waiting room not too far from the main desk. She was practically shaking of excitement. She had gotten the job as the nurse, and not to mention so soon; she had only submitted her application the day before. Although her Father didn't necessarily approve of her wanting to pursue a career helping others, she thought that's what she did best and that's what she loved doing.

They always say to pursue what you want, and for yourself, no one else, right? A tall, middle-aged man, about no more than thirty eight, came out the door on her left side. It read "Dr. Hatake". He had his glossy gray hair pulled back with a cap, a mask covering his face. "Is there a Hyuuga, Hinata here?"

Feeling slightly embarrassed, she nodded as she stood up, looking up at the six foot two man. Chuckling, he gestured to her with his hand down the hall. "Uniforms are down there, pick a locker, and then if you could please head to room thirteen, it'd save me a lot of time." He informed her. "I guess what I'm basically saying is that you'll be stuck with that patient for a while, that is, until he gets himself together."

"A-alright." She gave him a small smile, and followed the instructions she managed to remember. The floors were spotless, and many people frantically moved about the main floor. She grabbed a uniform and changed in the locker room—it was weird how they had that in a hospital, of all places—and locked up her personal items before pulling her long hair into a sloppy bun, heading to her assigned room. It didn't take her much long to know where it was located, although she felt uneasy in her stomach remembering her boss's words.

"You'll be stuck with that patient for a while, that is, until he gets himself together." What had he meant by that? Shaking her head and biting her lip, flushing at herself for wasting two minutes thinking of endless possibilities, she knocked the door lightly before walking in. There, she saw a black haired guy no older than her age, who had dull, red eyes, and purple bags under them. It was so weird how someone who looked so bad, looked so good.

Shaking her head again for thinking about her first patient ever, she gave him a small smile. "Hello Mr.-" She pulled the clipboard off his bed, and read it slowly. "Uchiha. Do you need anything?"

Removing his face from the floor, he stared at her for what seemed like minutes, and shook his head, giving her a glare that made shivers run up her spin. "Are you s-sure? I could adjust your pillows, give you water-"

"You could also just get the fuck out." He scowled, crossing his arms against his chest, needles inserted into his arms, cords leading to a huge projector that was to his side. He was so stubborn, and did he have to be so rude to someone who was trying to help him?

She bit her lip, not wanting to do anything, much less say anything that would cause him to erupt. Based on the information on the clipboard, she didn't want to upset him. What she did want to do was hug him. Maybe tell him comforting words. It wasn't every day when you see someone you barely associated with in primary school who was entered into a hospital for suicide attempt.

Apparently, this was his third try.