I'm gay, and I'm going into cardiac arrest.

I fell during cheer practice.

Well, “fell” is what I thought it was. What followed was a squeezing, suffocating sensation gripping my chest, prickling down my right arm. My heartbeat felt too fast, too out of rhythm, too wrong.

I didn't realize I'd toppled backward until I was crumpled on the floor, my shoulder screaming, my breath heavy, shuddering.

“I'm...fine,” I tried to squeeze out.

But my words were lost, strangled in my throat.

“I fell!”

I, in fact, did not just "fall".

“Possible ventricular tachycardia!” a nurse announced, when I was rushed into the ER by my teammates.

After an echocardiogram, the nurse calmly turned to me with a practised smile I knew was reserved for bad news. “Falan,” she spoke calmly. “Sweetie, how many energy drinks do you consume in a day?”

I shrugged. “Around six,” I said, “Why?”

The nurse blinked. "That's a lot of caffeine, sweetie."

"Well, yeah, but I'm young," I said, "Kids don't have heart attacks."

“Falan, after looking through your test results, they're showing you have caused irreversible damage to your heart.”

Before I could respond, she fell back into professional mode. “I've, um, I've spoken to your mother, and due to your current status as a high school athlete, you're in luck!” She smiled brightly.

“We have a suitable donor to proceed this afternoon.” She leaned close, her breath feathering my ear. “It’s one of those donors, and people usually opt out, but it is still a viable option for you."

She smiled. "We’ll be transferring you to the cardiology department, and in a few hours, you'll be going into surgery.”

The nurse left me alone, and I was wheeled into another ward.

I was given my phone, thank god, but it died and nobody would lend me a charger.

The food was barely even food, a mystery meat burger with soggy potatoes and sour tasting ranch. I was spitting it into a napkin when the patient next to me made a gagging noise.

“I'm surprised you even tried the food,” the girl smirked at me when I shot her a death glare. And then I regretted it.

Because she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

I already knew what she was. Gorgeous dark skin reflecting the light, hair the color of a starless night cascaded beneath matching midnight bangs.

Her smile was teasing.

I tried not to look—tried to ignore the flickering orange light, wings like smoke curling from her back. Mom told me to never look a fairy in the eye.

They were evil, Mom said, a stain on our country.

This fairy raised her hand in an awkward wave. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I wasn't sure why my cheeks were on fire. “I’ve never spoken to a fairy before,” I admitted.

“There was a fae at my school. But he…” I trailed off, choking on my words. Declan Calloway, the first and last fairy to attend our school, on account of two sophomore boys murdering him and parading his lifeless body around by his mutilated wings.

“I'm sorry,” I said, because I couldn't think of anything else. “For the record, I think fairies are awesome.” I tried to smile, tried to ignore and swallow down everything Mom told me. Vicious savages who'd trickled into our country after our government started drilling in their villages after our oil was gone.

Good for nothing free-loaders, Mom called them.

“Don't pity me,” the fairy rolled her eyes. “And for the record, I'm here for a kidney infection,” she laughed. “I've been here, what, like half a year? So, of course it turned into, like, a serious thing.”

“So, surgery?” I said, rolling onto my side to face her.

“Surgery,” she grinned. “I'm Adelina.”

I reached out my arm as far as possible without toppling off my bed. My heart started to pound again, stuttering in my chest. Heat prickled across my cheeks. “Falan.”

Adelina cocked her head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I'm not.” I glared down at my blankets, choking on butterflies. “See? This is me NOT looking at you.”

“Falan?” A nurse appeared wearing a smile. “We’re ready for you.”

I nodded, turning to Adelina. “Wait.” I grabbed my backpack, pulled out a marker, and headed over to her, scribbling my phone number.

Adelina raised a brow. “Wow. Thanks. Numbeeeeers.”

“So, you can call me,” I said, diving back into bed. “You're welcome!”

I was wheeled down to surgery, but a certain fairy was on my mind.

“Hey, can you tell the pretty fairy with the dark hair to wait for me?” I puffed out. “We're going to the movies as soon as we’re both—”

“Falan,” a nurse told me gently. “Just breathe, all right? You're okay.”

A mask was pressed against my face, and I was told to count to 20.

I counted 20 Adelina’s, butterflies swarming in my gut.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been out.

Definitely not long enough for a heart transplant.

Something was very wrong. Blinding light scorched my eyes.

Around me, shadows looming over me with bloodstained scalpels.

My body was limp, sliced open right down the middle, pearly white ribs sticking from bloody flaps. A tube rammed down my throat, suffocating my sobs.

My frantic gaze searched for something— anything— to distract myself.

They were taking me apart.

To my left, a gurney holding a body.

Silky dark hair, lying faced down.

Adelina.

No.

They were taking her apart.

Two nurses drilled into her back, ripping her wings from her spine, blood seeping over the silver edge. I screamed, but they just flopped her onto her back, where a cavernous hole ripped through her.

“Extraction complete. Ready to begin the transplant,” one nurse said.

In her gloved hands was a bulging mass of bright red flesh.

She smiled. Like she knew I was watching. Knew I was awake.

“See?” she said. “Looks like fairies are good for something after all.”