This idea came to me quick, and it feels like a sketch but it feels important so I'll upload it. I'm dedicating this one, I'll just say they know who they are :D

Six Days

Gregory House attempts to sneak behind me, but his awkward gait gives him away. "Hey," I offer nonchalantly, fiddling with the cancer patient's tubes.

He clears his throat, pointing at the limp, near lifeless girl on the hospital bed. "She's not going to make it." Blunt bastard.

I bite my lip to keep the curses out of the air. "Claire." I emphasize. "This girl's name is Claire. And I really don't care what you think. She is stable." I turn to face him. To watch his electric blue eyes dance across the room, calculating.

"She's still not going to make it..." blah blah blah blah. As in I really didn't catch the rest of his 'genius' speech.

I was too busy thinking.

. . .

Sobs clogged the back of my young throat, I must have been sixteen or so. Sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can still remember, still feel, how I was certain I would lose air and die with him. Him. David. My best friend, and on a good day, David, the best friend who I would pretend was my boyfriend. I restate, pretend, he was attracted to what most women were attracted to anyway, but sometimes I liked to forget that he was gay, that he had a fiancee, if you will.

Anyway, I watched, painfully, as his minty green eyes shut, and his deep redwood hair that was knotted fall away in chunks. And he looked pathetically skinny in that hospital gown.

This was what was left of David, my best friend since forever. I breathe deep, a small part of my heart holds on to him, refusing to let go, and that part was getting very, very agitated.

Kevin, David's fiancee, clasped my wrists with his dry hands. And small glints of water swam in his eyes, I'd never thought I'd see Kevin, tough Kevin, cry, or even tear up. You may imagine gay men shaking in little pink bedroom slippers and crying into a teddy bear held close when something goes wrong. It's quite the opposite, they're just like anyone else.

I stared at Kevin, a small part of me sunk, their wedding, somewhat wedding anyway, was in three days.

And three days ago, David's body totally freaked out, after his chemo was doing so well. Lukemia, a disease I think I'll curse forever. Loving David had never hurt until that second; sometimes I wish I could've stopped time at that moment and just stood over his body forever. So I wouldn't have to say goodbye.

"Code blue!" A nurse shouts as Death's putrid smell crawled out of David's body and seeped into the enormous gap in my heart.

"If I were a doctor," I whispered to Kevin, who stared blankly at his lover's shell. "I wouldn't have let this happen."

"Yeah?" He let go of me. "Cameron, David loved God. God just needed him back." Stupid religion, loves everything, doesn't it?

"Yeah?" I retort. "What kind of God does this?" Then, now, always, it's easier to blame something you can't understand than believe there is some greater point to all this.

Kevin shook his head sadly. "I need the faith, Allison. It's all I've got now."

. . .

"Cameron?" His baritone voice snapped me back to reality. I bit my lip and met his icy blue gaze.

"Well," I replied. "Sometimes people need the hope."

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