365 Days

97

97

I'm seeing my best friend for the first time in a month. We're going to have a movie day at her place, so I am heading to the supermarket to get snacks.

Mum said it would be a good idea for me to walk, but that's only because Dr. Patrick said walking would help speed up my recovery so that I would be back to normal again. I'm angry. What's the point of trying to recover quickly when I'm going to die anyway?

Oh wait, there isn't one.

The parking lot at the supermarket is near empty, but that makes sense considering it's 10am on a Monday morning in February. All the kids will be at school, the grown ups at work and people at or going to University are probably still sleeping.

I adjust my shoulder bag as the automatic doors slide open for me, the cool air a refreshing change from outside. Much like the car park, the aisles are virtually empty, with one old cashier at the check out and a few other employees stacking shelves.

I keep my head down as I stumble around the supermarket, trying to remember what Olive and I agreed on getting.

I can't remember.

I pull my phone out of my bag and navigate to Notes, where I wrote the list.

- Maltesers

- Popcorn

- Iced tea

I get the food first and hold the packets in my hand as I go to the drinks aisle. I scan the shelves, looking for the iced tea that Olive likes. It's on the top shelf and when I reach up for it, my stomach contracts in a way that has me hunch over in pain.

The food falls out of my hand and drops to the ground, my hand going to my stomach.

"Ow," I groan, breathing as the pain slowly disappears. You'd think over the past month I would have been all cried out. Apparently not.

"Dakota?"

My heart stops.

I fix myself so that I'm standing upright, my eyes on the feet in front of me.

Black Converse. Black shorts. Blue T-shirt. Brown eyes. Brown hair.

I almost don't recognize him.

There are bruise-like shadows under his eyes, those of which are void of happiness. He looks awful.

"Are you okay?" I breathe.

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same question?" He eyes the hand over my stomach.

"I'm fine."

I don't know what to say or what to think.

It's Alex.

I haven't seen him since the first of January and I've just spent a month in another state, trying to forget about what he said.

It didn't work.

"You can't apologize for breaking my heart."

I can't hold his gaze anymore, so I look at the cool tiles.

"Here." His hands come into view with the food I'd dropped, and in the other hand is the bottle of iced tea I was trying to reach for.

"Thanks." I mutter, awkwardly taking the objects into my hands. He's careful to avoid touching me, and then he takes two steps back.

"It's okay."

It's not okay.

I rack my brain for something to say. All I've done lately is think about what I would say to him if I got the chance, but my mind is blank. Empty. Not a single word in there.

So I walk away.

I pay for my items and put them in my bag, then walk to Olive's house in a daze.

"Finally! You're here!" Olive comes running down the porch steps and hugs me, despite the sticky heat.

"Hey," I say, trying to be enthusiastic. It's not working.

She links her arm through mine and leads me into her house.

"You look awful. And sound even worse." She takes my bag and sets it on the kitchen bench, putting the Maltesers and tea into the fridge.

"I saw Alex."

She whirls around to face me, her eyes full of sympathy. "Shit."

"Yeah. He looks dead tired."

Olive bites her lip and turns back around in a way that has me know she's hiding something.

"Olive, please. Tell me."

She closes the fridge and leans against the counter, her eyes calculating.

"Luke said he's hardly sleeping. He's hardly talking, either. When we had the movie day he just sat on the couch and didn't say a word. At all."

I put my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes together.

He's barely sleeping.

He's barely talking.

It seems like he's as bad as I am; maybe worse.

"This is all my fault."

Olive doesn't try to convince me that it's not, because we both know that it is. What she says is far more constructive. "I think you should talk to him."

"But I-"

"No. Hear me out."

I sigh and nod.

"You both look like shit and clearly feel like shit too. It's no secret that you care about each other and yes, you have stuff to work out but it's making you miserable to be away from each other."

"I don't know..." I trail off. I miss having Alex around all the time and yes, it's making me miserable to be away from him. But I'm going to die in 97 days, and then Alex will be even more hurt than he is now.

Is there a point?

"Just think about it, okay?" Olive asks, starting to make the popcorn.

"Okay." I can do that.

I can think about it.

It's not like I do anything else anyway.

***

A/N: Hey there! I've updated a lot in the past few days but obviously that's because the chapters are so short. I would apologise for that but i