Mark

You had heart problems, and any strain could be your last. You were hospitalized under constant observation. Then Mark showed up. He'd suffered a minor skull fracture during training, but there was no room in the regular wards, so he was transferred to you. You quickly became friends—or rather, he made you accustomed to his persistent presence.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" you hear his clear voice, despite the grumbling of the nurses who tried to stop him from interfering with your sleep. But they soon relented.

He leaned over in front of your bed and poked his finger into your cheek.

— Shall we go for a walk in the courtyard? Shark is in a different building today.

He tugged at your hand, and you stood up lazily. Hiding his worry behind a smile, he looked at you. You looked weak—the regular injections and IV drips were terrifying.

He exhaled and began to comb through your tangled hair.

"Mark, get lost..." you growled, raising your hand to hit him. But he grabbed your wrist and twisted it toward him.

"I'll be discharged in a week. Who knows if we'll ever see each other again," he said coldly. It was the first time you'd seen him so serious. But a second later, he smiled again and continued combing your hair.