sat alone in a bleak hospital room on the night that August died.

Conversations between the girl and the boy had turned from an exchange of words to a muttering of a couple sounds to silence. Daisy's visits with August consisted of complete silence as the boy's body shut down around him.

His vision had been the first to go, and he would joke about his other senses becoming even stronger. He claimed that he could hear a pin drop from a mile away—though Daisy swore he was lying.

But then his hearing had gone too. His motor functions deteriorated to the point that he couldn't even move any of his fingers. August became a shell of what he once was as he was unconscious on the brink of death, and Daisy sat alone as his heart monitor kept a slow and rhythmic pace.

The girl kept tabs on the motions around her for fear she would dissociate from her surroundings completely. The clock on the wall proved to be a helpful judgment of time.

Daisy had been sitting with August for twenty minutes when the nurse came in to copy down the boy's declining vitals. It had been an hour and thirty six minutes when Arizona came in, saying nothing as she kept her focus on August. The woman's eyes drank every ounce of it in as she stood attentive for a few minutes in the doorway, as if each moment looking at August would be the last moment she would ever see the boy alive.

"Can I call somebody?" Arizona asked hesitantly as her pager rang out, signaling her presence was needed elsewhere. "I'll call Mark, or Callie, or...it doesn't have to be anybody you know, if you don't want to talk. I can get one of the interns to sit down here. You shouldn't be alone, can I-"

"No." Daisy shook her head. She didn't want to speak to Mark or Callie or anybody for that matter, lest sit in an awkward silence with a medical intern that wanted to do anything other than babysit a sad teenager. "No."

"I have to."

"No you don't." Daisy's voice was firm again, the girl flicking her eyes over to the woman's obnoxiously loud pager. "You have to leave. You're supposed to leave, they need you."

Arizona's lips pressed down into a thin line, the woman turning her attention to the seemingly emergent page coming through as Daisy was subconsciously pushed to the back of her mind, the woman making a mental note to send somebody down despite the girl's insistent protests.

Daisy just wanted her space, and she felt more at ease when Arizona left the room. The girl liked that she was able to be alone with her friend.

Daisy let her eyes scan over August's frail body, his heart monitor keeping a steady pace. There were doctors and nurses and patients passing the doorway every couple of seconds, but Daisy didn't pay attention to the busy hallway. Daisy kept all her attention cast on her dying friend—taking note of the way his chest rose and fell slightly.

"It's not fair that you're gonna leave." Daisy frowned, speaking out quietly for fear anybody passing the boy's room would hear her. "And...I'll be so mad at you, because that's not fair. You're not being fair."

Daisy knew, of course, that she was being both selfish and unreasonable. August very well couldn't control the fact that he was dying, and Daisy had no right to be angry.

But Daisy was angry. It wasn't fair that August was leaving her all by herself again. The boy knew all about the various people that had left Daisy, and he was going to join the group just like everybody else.

It wasn't fair that August had befriended Daisy in the first place. Daisy wished August had never spoken out to her at all. Daisy wished she had ignored his comment about ice chips and continued on with her plan to hide in the bathroom that day. It wasn't fair that August was leaving Daisy alone. The girl would be subjected to an unresponsive shell of who she once was, acting much similarly in the way she had after Calypso died.

It wasn't fair that August was dying.

He doesn't have any control over that.

Daisy tried to remind herself of the fact over and over again. August didn't have any control over his death, and the boy would do anything to be able to live.

Maybe that just makes you selfish for wanting to leave when he's fighting so hard to stay. August deserves to live.

The girl winced, reaching up to rub her temple like she would when a headache was coming on. Like if Daisy truly rubbed hard enough, her brain would shut up and quit plaguing her with negative thoughts.

Mark was right. You shouldn't have ever befriended a dying boy.

Rubbing a bit more intensely, Daisy's frown deepened as her headache seemed to intensify.

Daisy thought maybe Mark had been right. It had been nice to have a friend for a bit, somebody she could confide in and somebody that took her mind off Calypso. It had been nice to have a friend for the first time, but Daisy sort of wished she hadn't ever met August.

Chest rising slightly and slowly falling, Daisy watched intently from where she was sat. Tubes and wires and machines and monitors. A death bed set up like every other hospital bed—cream white sheets and blankets and pillows. Doctors passing in the halls, mothers crying loudly over their sick babies. Daisy sat overly aware of every tiny sound in her environment, each decibel driving the girl to madness.

The ticking of the clock was the loudest to Daisy, a painful reminder that August's life thread was uncomfortably close to completely snapping.

Time passed and the clock ticked away as Daisy sat still. It was another twenty minutes when the same nurse from before came in to record August's declining vitals again. It had been forty two minutes when a loud code blue was issued down the hall, medical staff rushing and scurrying as confused parents asked questions and questions.

It had been a little over an hour when Mark came in, and Daisy would've screamed if she were in the right mental state.

Daisy's frustration instead came through a groan she failed to stifle.

"Go away."

Mark tried not to take Daisy's comment to heart. He was thrilled she was even talking to him in the first place, considering she had been openly ignoring the man for the past week. Dinners were silent and awful, and car rides home from the school pick up line were uncomfortable. Mark found the whole "not talking to each other" thing to be brutally horrible, but Daisy seemed perfectly content.

When Mark took a few short steps into the room instead of immediately turning away as Daisy had hoped, the teenager let out a scoff that properly expressed the annoyance circulating through her.

"I told Arizona not to call anybody down here." Daisy mumbled, making a mental note to emphasize that point with the blonde doctor later.

"I would've come down here even if she hadn't asked me to."

"I believe that."

Daisy's tone settled somewhere between mockery and sarcasm, signaling to Mark that Daisy truthfully didn't believe anything coming out of his mouth.

Mark approached the chair in the corner of the room, dragging it over and placing it beside the one Daisy occupied. Far enough that Daisy didn't freak out about Mark invading her space, but close enough that Daisy would feel like she wasn't totally alone.

"This is...it's annoying," Daisy spoke out, the anger bubbling up deep inside of her. "You're being annoying."

"I'm sorry you think that."

Mark's response pissed Daisy off even more. His calm and cool attitude was seriously infuriating, and Daisy sort of wished he would yell or something.

"And you're still talking to me, I...I told you to quit talking to me." Daisy snapped in a harsh tone, Mark refusing to give her the reaction she seemed to be seeking.

"You keep bringing up conversations, Dais. I'm just answering. We can sit in silence, if you want."

Daisy frowned again at the response, Mark's gentle tone making the girl realize she was being unreasonably aggressive. Daisy just felt all sorts of confused about the things she was feeling. She had been mean, and that wasn't the type of person she was.

"Sorry."

The word that left Daisy's lips came out as a whisper. The sentiment was short, the girl not even fully expressing the phrase I'm sorry. The word felt far too heavy to begin with, and the addition of a personal pronoun would have made the phrase unspeakable. A quietly mumbled sorry would have to suffice.

It did suffice for Mark, the man feeling slightly surprised as he glanced over at Daisy. She seemed spaced out, as if not truly attached to her surroundings, and Mark wondered if Daisy had actually meant the apology or if it had just been a programmed response.

He decided to take what he could get, regardless. An unauthentic apology was better than the girl continuing her streak of ignoring Mark and speaking nothing at all.

"It's okay." Mark confirmed quietly as Daisy continued to stare at August, stuck in her own daze.

It didn't feel okay to Daisy. The whole system felt all sorts of backwards to her, and she wondered who would be next on the death list. It seemed like a cycle that never truly ended.

Daisy wondered if a death date was a predetermined date, something that was an unchangeable fate. Maybe there was a big book somewhere with a person's birthday, a hyphen, and a person's death date.

Life would be significantly easier if it worked that way, if everybody had a death date that could be prepared for. Things were always a little easier to cope with when they could be seen coming, that's why Mom's death had been a bit easier to deal with than the death of Daisy's father or her sister.

Daisy had known Mom was going to die months before she even took her final breath. Dad and Calypso's death had come so suddenly that Daisy hadn't even had the chance to react, sending the girl into a sudden shock. It was like jumping into cold water, and feeling the pinpricks of a thousand needles as the body entered the first stage of hypothermia.

It was easier when you saw it coming.

So why was this particular situation so difficult to grasp?

Daisy had been warned from the minute she had met August that he was a terminal case, so his death shouldn't have put her into a total frenzy of panic.

But watching August's shallowed breathing as the boy struggled to stay alive freaked Daisy out.

August had been a friend. A good friend. Daisy didn't know it was possible to laugh so often until she had met August. He had been a distraction from Calypso, and Daisy was scared that she would be forced to think about her sister again. She would shut out Mark and everyone else, and the world would go all dark like before.

Daisy glanced over at Mark, the man's eyes straight ahead as well. He held himself a bit more upright in his chair than Daisy did. His face didn't hold as much anguish as Daisy's did. Mark didn't look like he felt nearly as devastated as Daisy did about August's state of well being.

Mark was at least there, though, and Daisy figured that counted for something. Mark was sitting in an uncomfortably awkward silence because that was what Daisy wanted, and the girl appreciated that in an odd sort of way.

But the annoyance crept in again as Daisy pondered why Mark had even come down to August's room in the first place. She eyed the man cautiously, waiting for some smug look and an obnoxious I told you so. Daisy thought maybe Mark had come down to lecture her on how wrong she had been to befriend August, and to bash his character. Perhaps he had come to laugh in Daisy's face and belittle her.

"What?"

Mark had taken note of Daisy staring intensely, the girl's eyes fueled by some sort of anger.

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, but you're..." Mark frowned, not sure why Daisy seemed so troubled. "You okay?"

Daisy didn't shake the hardened look on her face as she broke her gaze from Mark, staring back at August again. The monitor was silent. It was good when the monitor was silent, and Daisy hoped she didn't hear the blaring signal that indicated crashing vitals and an oncoming flatline.

Mark noted the consistent bouncing of Daisy's leg, the nerves radiating off of her like she was ready to explode.

"Do you want to talk?"

"We're not on speaking terms." Daisy's voice was harsh as she spoke.

Neither party was sure why exactly they weren't on speaking terms, but the silence just felt too natural. Talking felt forced, and Daisy was so irritable she knew she would lose it if she had to hear Mark's voice anymore.

"Sure, but...I don't know. You don't just want to talk for five minutes? You look nervous."

Daisy was incredibly nervous. Anxious. Panicked. All the feelings were clawing on her insides.

Anger was the front runner of those feelings, for reasons Daisy couldn't quite pin. Anger and annoyance and frustration, and all of it was aimed towards Mark.

It would've been easiest to yell at Mark, to demand the man shut up and let her have a moment of silence to herself. Daisy always appreciated silence. The peaceful moments of serenity in which no talking ensues and the brain can take a few moments to truly go on a tangent of thoughts. It would've been easiest to yell at Mark and demand silence.

But Daisy hadn't really spoken to anyone in days. Daisy didn't speak to Mark in the way she used to, and the girl's only confidant had been unconscious for nearly a week. Daisy's brain felt as though it would explode with all the thoughts brewing up, her ugly feelings leaking out and tainting the room, painting the walls a hideous color.

The girl tried not to seem too eager as she trained her eyes straight ahead on August.

"I guess...we could talk for five minutes, if you really want to." Daisy tried to subtly speak, as if she wasn't absolutely dying to have somebody to talk to before her brain hit the big red self destruct button.

Mark shrugged, glancing down at the numbers displayed on his wristwatch. "I've got five minutes."

Daisy let out a shaky exhale, not quite sure where to begin.

The thoughts that had been heavy on her mind were dark. That wasn't anything unusual, considering that Daisy's brain was usually a pretty scary place.

But Daisy usually had people to talk to. August was the best listener, always letting Daisy release the heavy pressures that built up in her brain. Mark had been an exceptional listener too. Dr. Perkins was paid to listen to Daisy, of course, but he was always good at letting the girl cast out her thoughts.

Except August was on the brink of death, Mark and Daisy weren't on speaking terms—though the silent standoff between the two had been put on pause—and therapy sessions with Dr. Perkins just didn't feel helpful anymore. Daisy was always sat silently with a dying best friend, a disregarded foster father, or a nosy psychiatrist. It was hard to ever get anything off one's mind when it felt like nobody was listening—or rather nobody was willing to listen.

"I'm scared."

There were hundreds of things that Daisy could have tacked on to the end of her sentence to make it complete. She could've gone into heavy detail regarding every phobia that plagued her life.

Changing and dying and sweat and the color red and warmth and bacteria and Mr. Walter and semi-trucks and cancer and...

And?

There were far too many ands. Too many extra additions to a list of fears that never seemed to reach an end.

The girl sat feeling winded and breathless despite not speaking aloud any of her rambling thoughts.

Daisy waited for Mark to question her statement while Mark waited for Daisy to finish her seemingly incomplete thought. The lingering natural silence that had been settled over the pair for days presumed like normal as Mark merely sat and Daisy merely sat.

Five minutes to talk.

Maybe four minutes and some now.

Four minutes, thirty seconds.

Four minutes, twenty-nine seconds.

Four minutes, twenty-eight seconds.

"I'm scared of everything. A lot, I mean...pretty much everything." Daisy mumbled, finishing her thought from earlier. The girl swallowed thickly as she attempted to proceed with what she wanted to say.

"I'm scared, though, about...I think when August dies, I'll sort of go unresponsive. Like I did with Caly."

Silence was thick. Daisy didn't know it was possible for silence to be described by an adjective, but the silence that settled over the room was incredibly thick—like that of morning fog settling over Seattle in the early hours of the day.

Daisy sighed out when Mark didn't say anything, her brain continuing to push thoughts out of her mouth against her will.

"He kept me distracted from thinking about her. And now it's like...I won't have anybody to distract me, and I'll have two deaths to deal with, and...and it's gonna be so much worse than it was before. I don't what I'll do."

The girl's confession was met with more silence, and Daisy was seriously confused why Mark hadn't said anything yet.

Was he waiting for Daisy to admit how wrong she was? Was he playing a game of chicken, waiting for Daisy to make the first move in sparking some sort of interaction?

"You were right, if that's what you're waiting to hear." Daisy spoke out quietly against her own pride, Mark's gaze falling on her for the first time since she spoke.

"You were right, and...I was wrong." Daisy breathed out, the words struggling to come from her lips. The girl's eyebrows furrowed as the wheels in her head turned more and more. "If you came down here just to rub it in my face, you shouldn't have, because...that's not nice, and I don't need to hear the spiel, and-"

"I didn't."

Mark was quick to speak up, and Daisy glanced over at him, looking expectant for an answer as she internally questioned his motives.

"I didn't come to give a speech, I just came to sit with you. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Mark elaborated, pushing further when Daisy looked noticeably distressed. "Is that okay?"

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to." Mark shrugged, turning his gaze back to August. "But that's what's happening. I'm making sure you're okay."

"Well I'm not, and sitting here with you isn't making me feel much better." Daisy mumbled out, the irritation she had briefly put to the side coming right back up again as the girl spoke.

Mark was so sick of the snide remarks and the snapping and the sarcasm. The man remembered those first few months of knowing Daisy, the girl too hidden in her shell to even really speak to him. While Mark was incredibly thankful that Daisy felt comfortable enough to talk and wasn't as petrified as she used to be, he was sick of the harsh words and the attitudes. He had been particularly lenient since Calypso's death, keeping his mouth glued shut every time Daisy lashed out, but the man couldn't take it anymore.

"What did I do to you?"

Mark's tone wasn't angry, or frustrated, or laced with any sort of emotion. The man sounded genuinely curious about what he had questioned, and Daisy was just a little confused.

"What?"