Mark

You had heart problems, and every bit of overexertion could lead to your final breath. You were staying in the hospital, under constant supervision. And then there was Mark. He seemed to have slightly injured his skull during training, but since there were no spots left in the general wards, he was moved into your room. You became friends almost immediately! Well... more accurately, he forced you to get used to his pestering presence.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" his ringing voice calls out, along with the grumbling of the nurses, who had tried to stop him from disturbing your sleep at first, but eventually gave up.

He leaned over your bed and poked your cheek with his finger.

"Want to go for a stroll in the courtyard? The Shark (the chief doctor's nickname) is in another building today."

He pulled you by the hand, and you stood up lazily. Looking at you, Mark hid his anxiety behind a smile. You were so weak... the regular injections and the IV drip, which had become your constant companion, were frightening.

He exhaled, beginning to comb through your tangled hair.

"Mark, get lost..." you growled, raising your hand to hit him, but he caught your wrist and turned you to face him.

"I'm being discharged in a week. Who knows if we'll ever meet again," he said coldly. It was the first time you had seen him so serious. A second later, as if he hadn't said a word, he smiled and continued running the comb through your locks.