"Red" will be a 5-Shot FutureFic featuring Ricky and Amy like you have never seen before! I cannot wait for you all to read it!

To see the story before the story, please watch the trailer for "Red" and the link below! Comment and Like the video for earlier publication!


"Out of my way!" I screamed, racing towards the closest elevator. Moments earlier, I had received a text from my mom telling me that Ricky was coughing blood. Ricky! My Ricky, in pain and in danger. It wasn't possible, it wasn't right. He had been getting better! They had said he was getting better.

I stopped abruptly behind a large crowd of visitors with newborn baby balloons waiting for the elevator currently at floor five. I let out a loud frustrated sigh and skidded away in the direction of the staircase. I flew up the hospital stairs horrified, my blood running cold. Time stood still as I ran, taking those ugly waxed steps two at a time. I couldn't have run any faster and yet it seemed like that prayer in the chapel was already years behind me.

I pushed through the insanely heavy metal door that led to the third floor of the hospital and sprinted through the main area filled with frantic nurses, my coat and purse flying high like a kite behind me. I reached Ricky's room out of breath and just about ready to collapse. My half -sister Grace stood against the wall opposite to Ricky's doorway, head in her hands, sobbing. My mom comforted her while starring into the hospital room, a dreaded concern smacked across her face.

Apparently Grace had been at the hospital all afternoon with her dad and had called home asking to be picked up. My mom had come up to meet Grace on the third floor of the hospital and was directed to Ricky's room where Grace was killing time, anxious to leave and start her homework. Ricky started off coughing as he had normally been doing for the past week or so, but his breathing became sporadic and his coughs grew sharp. Soon he was doubled over the side of his bed wheezing and hacking. Grace tried to help him sit up but saw a dark syrup dripping from his chin and fingers and stopped dead in her tracks. She called her dad and a bunch of other doctors into the room and was pushed out of the way. My mom texted me immediately and went into overdrive trying to calm my sister down.

"We were just talking" Grace sobbed, on the verge of vomiting

I grew pale with fear and turned to look into my boyfriend's room but Marshall ran out into the hall and tried to stop me. He grabbed me with strong arms and dragged me a few feet away from the door before I was able to unclasp his hands from my stomach and run free. I fell into Ricky's doorway and looked up, the sight before me placing me in a disturbed trance. Ricky was sprawled out on the bed, moving up and down as if having a seizure. Blood covered his white v-neck t-shirt and splattered his sheets in various places. Three nurses were wrestling him to his mattress as he struggled for air. Eventually, the third nurse to his right was able to strap a mask onto his blood stained face. Ricky's possessed body immediately calmed down and his chest slowly began to rise normally.

"Ricky!" I screamed, suddenly free from my frozen shock. I ran over to my boyfriend's aid. He starred at the ceiling with glassy eyes, taking shallow breaths that sounded like they were escaping the nostril of a kitten. Tears rolled off my colourless face and fell onto Ricky's mask as I loomed over him, stroking his hair.

"It's okay baby," I whispered, knowing he could hear me "I've got you"

Ricky took in a deep breath and shifted his gaze towards me. He slowly lifted his blood stained left hand, which I took hold of tightly and kissed over and over, never wanting to let go. The nurses in the room came in between Ricky and I as they got to work on hooking him up to numerous machines. I sat down in the chair next to Ricky, not daring to let go of his hand in the fear that he might break apart. I watched sadly as the nurses cut off Ricky's soaked shirt and attached wires to both nipples. They connected an IV drip to his hand and withdrew blood from his right forearm. Ricky winced at the stab of the needles and gripped my hand tighter than before. I patted the back of his palm affectionately and smiled as his tense grip disappeared.

"Amy" Marshall mumbled from the doorway "Can I see you for a moment please?"

"I'll be right back," I stated loudly, in Ricky's direction. I let go of his hand by placing it on his chest. He slowly slid it off and let it roll off the side of the hospital bed, allowing his entire arm to hang freely as if he was dead. This was a sign that he didn't want me to go. I had to though. I had to hear what Marshall had to say. What was the reason for all of this?

"What's wrong with him" I demanded, following Grace's step-dad into the hall. I watched Marshall squirm in an uncomfortable silence as he tried to put his diagnosis into words that wouldn't send me into an instant cardiac arrest.

"Ricky's lungs are beginning to deteriorate. We are moving him into the ICU effective immediately."

"Deteriorate" I stuttered "Wh-what does that mean?"

"His lungs are collapsing Amy. He's dying"

Luckily for my sake, I was already standing against a wall because if I hadn't been, surely I would have passed out. Ricky wasn't dying. He couldn't be. I loved him. He loved me. We were happy and he was doing better. He was going home soon. We were going to go out on dates and go dancing. Dying? He couldn't be dying. I had prayed. I had prayed!

"No, no… no. No, no, no!" I rambled, starting to cry

"Amy –" Marshall interjected

"NO!" I screamed, cutting him off. I slammed my fists into his chest "He isn't dying! You're lying! Stop lying to me!" I was hysterical. I kept flinging myself towards him as if every punch was some kind of portal bringing Ricky back to me. Marshall stood there wincing as I hit him. Tears ran down my face and soaked the neckline of my shirt. Snot drizzled out of my nose and onto my top lip. I couldn't stop myself. When he had had enough, Marshall grabbed me by the biceps and shook me until I starred at him bewildered and afraid.

"Dam it Amy stop it!" He screamed, "There's nothing I can do! There is nothing any of us can do!"

"There has to be something we can do," I whispered, starring behind him at nothing in particular. I slid down to the floor and curled up into a ball leaning against the corner of the wall.

"Our only hope is a sudden organ donation, and judging by his condition, I say he has about one week to live at most. It could be a couple of hours; it could even be a few more months. I just don't know. He could improve drastically and even be removed from the ICU. It all depends"

"But there is a chance he will live?" I asked, grasping onto the little bit of faith I still held in my heart as I stood back up

"Not forever, but for now, yes. There is a chance"

I heard a painful squeaking from behind me as a large gurney rolled out of Ricky's room. His limp body lay there helpless and sick but his eyes flashed all around searching for me. Begging for me. I ran up to his side and kissed his cheek, which had been rubbed clean of those dreaded blood stains.

"I love you" I called after him as he was pushed towards the other end of the floor into the ICU

"So what happens now?" I said turning back towards Marshall, open to any and every opportunity he knew of that would keep my boyfriend alive.

The next few days went a little something like this. I would wake up in the morning about an hour before I had to leave for school. I would call the hospital to check up on Ricky, making sure he had made it through the night. Marshall had entered me as 'family friend', which meant I was allowed to receive personal information that no one else was. A few times, the nurse on the other end had informed me that they had almost lost him overnight due to another attack but that he was pulling through. It made me glad to hear that he was being strong, not only for his sake but also for mine. I needed him to live. I needed him here.

I remember during my second phone call, the person on the other end of the line wasn't sure if he was going to make it through the day. He hadn't been eating a lot and the mucus he was removing from his lungs was almost unbearable. That was the first time I really broke down and cried when Ricky was in the ICU, not including that day at the hospital. The crushing thought that I was never going to see my boyfriend again ate away at me. I asked the person I was speaking to, to bring the phone to Ricky so I could tell him I loved him. They did as they were told, entered the ICU and held the receiver up to Ricky's ear. I could hear him breathing slightly and knew that was all there really was to him at that time, just shallow breaths and scary thoughts. I told Ricky I loved him and that he was going to see me that afternoon. I made it a promise. I heard a small 'okay' through the phone and smiled at the unconditional strength my boyfriend was displaying.

After that call, I started checking in on my lunch breaks and on the bus rides to the hospital. I would visit Ricky every day for an hour in his room doing simple things like brushing his hair with my fingertips. I would then leave him alone as visiting hours were limited and would sit on the chairs outside his room so he could watch me study. I stayed until 7 every night, fed Ricky his usual and disgusting serving of lentil soup, being the only thing he could stomach, and put him to sleep. I would whisper words of encouragement while stroking his curls and allow myself to cry once I knew his eyes were closed.

This daily routine of constant worry carried on for about two more weeks. Slowly over time, Ricky started improving. He no longer needed an oxygen mask as the simple nostril tube sufficed. He gained enough strength to sit up and his dry coughs returned, sending the mucus and phlegm back where they came from. Things had started looking up and I was hanging onto my hope for dear life.

On one Saturday in April, Ricky and I were resting in his room. He was scheduled to move out of ICU by Monday, which made me ecstatic. No longer would I need paper surgeon masks to visit my boyfriend. No longer would we be forced into perfect little time slots. I hadn't even thought about it before. To everyone outside the life of a hospital, the hospital itself is a nightmare. To everyone inside ICU, the hospital itself is a blessing.

"What are you thinking about?" Ricky asked, catching me in my daydream

"Nothing" I sighed, taking his hand "I was just thinking about how much my priorities have changed in these last few months. I first came here dreading arts and crafts, concerning myself with what to wear. Now I can't get dressed fast enough because every minute I waste at home is another minute without you"

"I used to think about that a lot when I first got here"

"What happened?" I asked, entwining our fingers together

"I forgot what it was like to have other priorities. This place is my life now. Nothing else" He said acceptingly, gesturing to the walls around him

"What about me?"

"Of course you. You're everything Sweetie. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you"

"You know I prayed?" I said abruptly, lost in thought

"You did? When?"

"The day you were put here. It was right before the…"

"Mother of all coughing fits?"

"Before that. I talked to God and I asked him to …"

"You don't need to tell me Amy. I already know what you asked"

"You do? … How?"

"Because I asked the same things," He said, his voice cracking "And I'm still here, so I figured… whatever you said worked"

"It's not supposed to be like this Ricky" I snarled angrily

"I know it's not Ames. And I'm sorry you are being put through this at such a young age"

"I'm only sorry I wasn't here sooner" I replied, and it was the honest truth. A knock at the door interrupted our conversation.

"Mind if I come in?" Marshall asked softly, not wanting to really disturb us. I figured that whatever it was had to be important, as he knew how special our time together was to me. I nodded my head inviting him in and watched him as he tried to hide a smile.

"What's going on?" Ricky giggled, lying back against his pillows

"I have something for you" Marshall exclaimed, handing Ricky an envelope. Ricky took the small pouch and starred at it, his eyes bugged, his tongue peeking through his lips in excitement.

"What is it?" I asked curiously, watching Ricky carefully un peel the sticky attachment of the card. He removed its contaminants, which was a single slip of paper. It fluttered into his lap and he picked it up gently, reading and re reading it's font.

"It's a… It's the name of that 21 year old that was in that motorcycle crash last month. His parents are taking him off life support tomorrow and he was an organ donor. Amy! I'm getting new lungs!"

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