The Doctor was a shy boy. He never spoke much unless spoken to. Whenever a conversation came about a movie or a musician he knew much about, he stayed quiet afraid to voice his opinions because of what others might think. The Doctor wasn't a handsome boy at this point. Acne had started its reign on what used to be smooth, pale skin. Perhaps his inability to voice his thoughts came from the insecurities of his appearance. The Doctor was not the doctor he would someday become, but just a Boy. The Boy had short jet black hair, but was long enough in the front to cover the acne on his forehead. The Boy had a high and thick nose with big lips below that would rarely curl into a smile. He had full cheeks, almost chubby, and had average size eyes that would shrink when he smiled which was not often. The Boy wasn't overweight, but was certainly not in shape. His arms had no shape, just long and loose and the only exercise his legs had ever got was from walking. He had a stomach that stuck out, but he wouldn't need to suck it in. The Boy was not attractive. If one could imagine him without the previously mentioned features one could find something enjoyable on his surface. For now however that was difficult to imagine since one could not stare at this Boy and not feel a bit repulsed. The Boy walked into the high school for his first day. Nervous and alone he walked to his first class. The Boy was the only one in the class, even the teacher was not present. The Boy sat at a desk near the back and waited for more students to fill up the class. As time passed and it came for the class to begin, the Boy found something strange. He found that he was still the only one in the class. Obviously the Boy began to panic wondering all sorts of possibilities to explain this strange event. Perhaps the school was being evacuated or he was being set up for some freak experiment or perhaps, just maybe he was on a hidden camera show. As soon as he thought these things no sooner had the teacher walked in, a middle aged woman who showed no interest on her face whatsoever. She had straight brown hair that came down to her shoulders, a sharp nose, thin lips, and glasses that looked as though she stole them from Harry Potter himself. The Teacher wore no makeup and her clothes did not make up for what she lacked in her physical features. The suit she wore was gray and looked as though it was bought 10 years ago at a thrift store never to be washed or ironed again. The Boy was less than excited.
"Welcome to Advanced Biology. As you can see you were the only one brave enough to face the demanding hours of effort required in this course."
"Or the only one brave enough to face you," thought the Boy.
"Do you have any questions?"
"Uhh, no."
"Good, here's a syllabus, you may read it later at home before you do your homework. Now let's begin. Now, biology is..." No sooner had she uttered those words another stepped into the classroom. The Boy sighed with relief that there was another soul to bear with him the torture that was sure to bestowed upon him as the class progressed. He looked up and whatever breath was left in him was knocked out of his body. For before him was not merely another soul, but a female soul. The Boy knew he was far from perfection, but realized that this girl was the closest he could ever get to perfection. The Girl had fiery, red hair that came a little past her shoulders, hazel eyes that penetrated the core of anyone who dared to stare into them, a high and straight nose, full, pink lips that glistened, and porcelain skin. Softly she asked, "Is this Advanced Biology?"
"Yes, you're late. Sit down."
As the Girl went to sit down the Boy could not help but stare at her body. Lean and smooth, every curve flowed effortlessly to the next. To say this was an hourglass shape would not suffice. The Girl's body was a roller coaster and the Boy wanted to ride it. To be the only boy, much less the only other student, in class with this girl was a blessing the Boy couldn't believe. To say the least the Boy was looking forward to Advanced Biology.

The Doctor

The Doctor sat in his room waiting. He sat in the chair behind his desk where he had filled out prescriptions and conversed over with his patients. The sun shone through the windows and the dust floated through the air as the light made it visible. The Doctor sat in the shadows as to avoid the light which was no easy task as the light broke through in all directions. It was now just dawn and the Doctor had been up the night pondering, staring blankly in one direction. The Doctor wasn't an insomniac, to the contrary, the Doctor was exhausted and yet he could not sleep. All he could do was think. Think. Think. Think. He had stayed up for a reason. That reason was that the Doctor had found out the previous day that he was dying. "The irony," he thought. For years he had helped countless patients with whatever illnesses that ailed them. For years he had given good news and bad. For years he had dealt with death, but never thought that one day he would also taste of the same cup that so many of his patients had. Cancer. How could he of all people get cancer? The Doctor had been on a diet for most of his medical life. College was the worst part of his life when it came to his diet, but surely that was forgivable as everyone lived off ramen and pizzas. Of course the Doctor had had his share of fast food, alcohol, and an occasional cigar, but in moderation. The Doctor didn't have a gym membership anymore, but rather worked out at home doing mostly calisthenics that wouldn't wear and tear his body like weights used to. The Doctor had no immediate family, no wife, no children, and therefore no stress. The cancer was a shock to all of his friends, well to the medical staff at the hospital who were not really friends, but mostly acquaintances forced to convene with the Doctor out of work ethics. The Doctor's friends had all married off and went their own ways. The Doctor did not bother to keep in touch, for what had he in common with them anymore? They were married, he wasn't. They had children, he didn't. They cared, he didn't. The Doctor wasn't a mean person, he was rather nice to the children that he treated, and treated everyone else with respect. The Doctor was just indifferent to many things. He had given good things without sounding happy and without a smile. He had given bad news with neither a sympathetic tone or even a merciful one. The Doctor did his work with diligence and did not converse unless spoken to. The Doctor was a ghost in the hospital, almost invisible to many of the staff members. Many did not know that he had worked in the hospital for years, but accepted that the Doctor liked to keep to himself and no one would refuse him that wish.
On this particular day the Doctor was overcome with emotion. No emotion came from his expression, but from his eyes. The eyes that have never glimmered or given a hint of satisfaction now revealed sorrow. The Doctor had always felt alone, but now facing death he was shaken by the fact that he was indeed alone. This was not the only thing that had kept him up all night of course, but everything else stemmed from this one fact. After realizing his death was a reality, the Doctor had realized that he had no one to tell. Well he had people to tell such as the people he worked with, but he had no one to care. There was no one that cared about what happened to the Doctor. He, in the first time in years, felt the overbearing loneliness that would consume him and he did not like it. The Doctor stayed up all night thinking and remembering his life. Life, is said, to flash before one's eyes right before death. The Doctor was not right before it, but was running towards it. So his life also will not flash before his eyes, but will be played as a film in his mind. The Doctor played all the times in his life that seemed important to him, all the times in which he was not alone. The first memory started playing several hours earlier the previous night. He was in high school then...