CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
good mourning.
season six, episodes one and two.

tw: severe depressive episodes,
alcohol as a coping mechanism,
very brief mention of not eating,
grief, & strong religious beliefs.

before you continue, please try to
remember that your health & safety
are more important than reading a
fanfiction. if any of the mentioned
warnings may be triggering to you,
please skip to the next chapter or
proceed with caution. <3

CASSIE DIDN'T BELIEVE IN HEAVEN. Truthfully, she didn't believe in god at all; at least, not the god she grew up with. God was supposed to be gracious, loving, and merciful. God was supposed to be fair. When she was a child, Cassie's mom told her that god gave his children not what they want, but what they need.

That's how Cassie knew for a fact that god wasn't real. Because in what twisted, fucked up universe did Cassie need her best friend to die?

Holding a nearly empty bottle of tequila in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other, Cassie stared blankly into the mirror above the sink, her gaze fitting over the black dress she wore. She actually went out to the store to buy it, because she threw out her other funeral dresses after Denny died.

Cassie snorted at the memory, and the fact that she was so naive as to think she didn't need them anymore.

Bringing the scissors up to her hair, she made a harsh cut, chopping off a few inches at the middle of her chest. She tilted her head, the gaunt paleness of her face making her feel sick.

Not liking the length, she chopped another inch off, humming in satisfaction as she did the same on the other side. Haphazardly dusting her hair off of the counter and onto the floor, she left the mess for someone else to clean up.

With one last look in the mirror, Cassie exited the dimly lit bathroom, hopping back up on her favorite stool as she flagged the bartender down.

"Joe," she slurred, dramatically waving a hand in the air. "Another alcohol, please. Oh, and here's your scissors back."

Joe made his way over to her, frowning as he snatched the sharp object out of her drunken grasp. "Where did you even get these?"

She shrugged, taking one last sip as she finished off the bottle in her hand. "Saw them behind the counter, took them from behind the counter," she gestured to her hair, "voilá."

Observing her current state, Joe reluctantly handed her another shot of tequila — which he slyly cut with water when she wasn't looking — as he turned around to serve another customer.

The bell above the door to the bar rung out, signaling that someone new had entered. Cassie glanced over her shoulder, only to see her boyfriend making a beeline towards her with an unreadable expression.

"Joe! Hey, Joe!" Cassie shouted, once again gaining the bartender's attention as she pointed at Mark. "Double scotch, single malt for this one, please!"

"No," Mark cut in, sending Joe a stern look as he approached her side. "I'm not drinking."

Cassie rolled her eyes at him. "You suck."

Leaning against the counter on one elbow, Mark stood right next to her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "You missed the funeral, Cass," he said lowly, tilting his chin downwards in an attempt to make eye contact. "Everyone was waiting for you to show up, but you never did."

"Funerals are for the living," Cassie smiled wryly, looking up at him with half lidded eyes. "I, however, am drinking to honor the dead." She raised her glass to the ceiling, making a faux gesture of acknowledgment as she obnoxiously raised her voice. "To George O'Malley and Lily Blair, two people smart enough to become surgeons, yet idiotic enough to get hit by a fucking bus. Cheers!"

Mark's eyes fitted across her face, trying and failing to understand what she was feeling. If only he knew, Cassie didn't really understand either.

"Okay," he said slowly, his hand moving around her shoulders to gently grab her arm. "I think it's time to—"

"Don't touch me," Cassie snapped out of the blue, her humorous facade dropping for the slightest moment. Taking a deep breath, she put a calm expression back onto her face. "I live across the street. I'll walk."

Mark shook his head, unsure. "Baby, it's getting late. I don't think you should—"

"I didn't ask what you think," she rose a single brow, tossing back her shot without breaking eye contact. "Either shut up and drink, or leave me alone."

Taken aback, Mark slowly nodded to himself as an uneasy feeling settled over him. "Okay then."

He moved down to another seat a few feet away, watching anxiously as Cassie carelessly flagged down Joe for another drink.

☆

Cassie glanced around the room at the annual intern mixer, subtly eyeing up the people who would be her main competition for the next five years. Exhausted from hauling all of her belongings across the country, she sipped on a drink to keep her alert.

Suddenly, a body came out of nowhere, knocking into her elbow and making her spill the drink onto the ground.

"Oh, my god," the stranger cringed, fumbling for some napkins on a nearby table. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was—"

"Don't worry about it, really," Cassie waved him off, a kind smile on her face. "It happens." She set the glass down, reaching out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Cassandra Harper, but you can call me Cassie."

The man laughed slightly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes as he took her hand in his own.

"George O'Malley," he introduced himself with a grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Cassie."

☆

Cassie opened the door to her bedroom, stumbling inside and tripping over the box of her belongings from the hospital. She winced as she stepped on something sharp, her vision too blurry to see clearly.

Abruptly stopping as she got to the foot of the bed, she blinked down at the grey hoodie folded in a neat square at the end of the blanket. Without moving her gaze, she stripped herself of the black dress she wore, putting the hoodie on over her bare skin and hugging it close to her body.

It still smelled like George.

Closing her eyes for a long moment, Cassie inhaled, exhaling seconds later with a blank expression. Her face felt weighted down, as if someone's fingertips were pulling at the purple rings around her eyes.

With an exhausted sigh, she collapsed onto the bed, losing consciousness just as her head hit the pillow.

☆

George looked at Cassie for a long moment, before standing up and bringing her into a hug. "That would be great, Cass. Thank you." 

Cassie broke out of the hug, playfully punching his arm. "Anything for you." 

"Sloan is right, you know," he grinned. "You're an angel." 

"Shut up," she laughed, shaking her head as she walked away. 

George smiled as he watched her retreating figure, before his eyes widened as he had a sudden realization. 

"Holy crap, she's McAngel!"

☆

Cassie idly sipped on her beer, scrunching up her nose at the taste. After the last two weeks of non stop drinking, Joe no longer served her hard liquor, refusing to give her anything that could get her seriously intoxicated.

He wanted to completely cut her off, but he knew that if he did, she would simply go somewhere else, where there was no guarantee that she would be safe.

Meredith and Cristina walked into the bar after getting off of a long shift, sharing a look before sitting on either side of their person. They ordered their drinks, as Cassie expertly ignored them, blankly staring straight ahead.

"You know," Meredith started, briefly looking at Cristina over Cassie's shoulder as she spoke. "You raised your interns well."

"Lennon assisted me and Owen on a carotid endarterectomy this morning," Cristina supplied with an approving nod. "I like her, she's a badass. Don't tell her I said that, though. It'll go to her head."

Cassie didn't respond, not bothering to spare them a glance as she drank her beer.

Meredith sighed. "We miss you, at the hospital. So does Alex, and Hunt, and Bailey. Even your interns won't shut up about you."

Cristina raised a brow. "When are you coming back?" she asked bluntly, causing Meredith to send her a scolding glare.

Frowning slightly, Cassie finally turned to face her. "I'm not going back. I quit."

Cristina gave her an incredulous look. "Wait, you were serious about that?"

"Cristina!" Meredith narrowed her eyes.

The girl in question ignored her, turning her full body to face Cassie. "Okay, no," she held a hand in the air. "We don't quit things, Cass. You don't quit things. Life sucks, we stuff in our feelings, and we move on. It's in our nature."

"What she's trying to say," Meredith cut in, reaching around Cassie to smack Cristina upside the head. "Is that you shouldn't let George dying stop you from living. He wouldn't have wanted that, and you know it."

Huffing a laugh, Cassie shook her head with a loopy smile. The other two frowned at her reaction.

"I don't care what George would have wanted," Cassie shrugged. "He's dead. Besides, what's he going to do, haunt me?"

"Cass, please, just come back to—"

"I have to pee," the brunette deadpanned, interrupting Meredith as she hopped off the stool and left her friends alone without another word.

Cristina watched her go, turning back to Meredith with a grimace. "I really thought the tough love thing would work."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "I told you."

Tilting her head, Cristina thought for a long moment before speaking. "We need Derek, don't we?"

"We definitely need Derek," Meredith nodded in confirmation, downing a shot of tequila as she did so.

☆

"Listen," George sighed, guilt weighing on his chest. "I know that you're still mad at me for cheating on Callie. But I miss you, Cass. Plus, it turns out, you were right. Izzie and I are over. It was a mistake, a bad mistake. I'm sorry for lying to you, and I'm sorry for being insensitive to what she'd done in the past. Believe it or not—" he smiled weakly, as Cassie finally turned to look at him. "—you're my best friend."

Cassie stared at him for a long moment. "Dude, you make it really hard to hold a grudge against you."

George shrugged with a slight quirk of his lips. "I try."

"Come here," she snorted, rolling her eyes and bringing him into a bone crushing hug. "You're an idiot, you know."

"I know," he mumbled into her shoulder, making her smile. "I really missed you."

Cassie didn't realize how much she valued his friendship, until she didn't have it anymore. She didn't realize how much she needed him.

"You're my best friend, too," she whispered. "I love you, man."

"I love you more, Cass."

☆

Derek knocked gently on the door to Cassie's bedroom, waiting a few seconds before entering. As the door creaked open, he carefully made his way inside, spotting her curled up under the covers as she watched the ceiling fan spin in circles.

"No Joe's today?" he questioned, alluding to the fact that she'd spent every day since George and Lily died at the familiar bar.

Cassie tightened her hold on the covers, not looking away from the ceiling fan. "I got tired of puking," she grumbled, as memories of the previous night spent hunched over the toilet clouded her mind.

Derek let out a sigh, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He observed her closely, trying to get a clue of what was happening inside of her head.

"You can talk to me, you know."

"There's nothing to talk about," she whispered, not daring to look him in the eye.

He paused for a moment, before kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed next to her. She sent him a distasteful glare, scooting to the right to get away from him, but ultimately ending up giving him more room. Derek rested his head on the pillow, staring at the side of her face.

"I'm not going anywhere, Cass," he told her, his voice soft. "You can talk to me."

Cassie ignored him, looking fixedly at the swirling fan above.

☆

George sat on a ledge outside the hospital, with red eyes and blotchy cheeks, staring numbly at the sidewalk.

Wordlessly, Cassie sat down next to him and grabbed his hand. He squeezed it so hard, Cassie was sure it would be sprained. She didn't care.

"My dad died," George said, looking at the side of her face.

She turned her head and made eye contact with him, seeing how truly broken he looked. "I know."

He continued to stare at her. "Does it ever get better?"

Cassie thought for a moment. "No. It doesn't get better," she said honestly. "Death doesn't hurt less the more you deal with it. It just... hurts." She sighed heavily. "It may not get better, but it does get easier. Eventually."

"Easier," George repeated, turning his gaze back to the ground as he rested his head on his best friend's shoulder.

☆

Hours later, neither Derek nor Cassie had moved an inch. For a while, he thought she'd fallen asleep, until the muted sound of her voice gained his attention.

"There are five stages of grief," Cassie said lowly, speaking as if she were reading out of a textbook. "Denial is the first one. To a person in denial, the world becomes meaningless and overwhelming, and life makes no sense. The person grieving is in a state of shock. They go numb. They wonder how they can go on, if they can go on... or... why they should go on." Twiddling her thumbs, she spoke faintly, her voice cracking slightly. "I-I think that's the one I'm in."

Derek wasn't sure what to say. He knew the five stages, and he'd seen her go through them, but this was different. George dying was different.

"What comes next?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Anger," Cassie answered, still not looking at him. "Bargaining, depression, acceptance."

Reaching down, Derek grabbed ahold of her hand, which rested limply in his grasp.

"Tell me what to do, Cass," he whispered. "Tell me how to help you."

Slowly, Cassie's grip tightened in his own.

"Stay."

Derek's hand squeezed back as he turned his gaze towards the ceiling, never planning to leave in the first place.

☆

"Look," George said. "Sloan isn't my favorite person in the world, and quite frankly, I think you could do better." Cassie gave him a look, which he promptly ignored. "But, I want you to be happy. I'd be naive if I said I hadn't noticed the way he stared at you, or talked about you for no reason—" 

"He talks about me?" 

"Cass." 

"Right, sorry. Go on." 

"If what you two have is real, then I say go for it. Even if you're scared, or if it doesn't end up working out in the end." George smiled softly, taking her hand in his own. "Life is short, Cass. Go out there, and live it before it's too late."

☆

Mark hurriedly made his way inside Cassie's apartment, after getting a call from Callie to come over as quickly as possible.

"Torres?" he shouted out, his brows knit together as he heard rustling coming from an unknown source. "Yang?"

"In here," Callie's voice called out, stress evident in her tone. Mark followed the sound, which led him down the hallway and into the laundry room, where he immediately froze in place.

Callie stood in the corner, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched the scene before her in concern. There were multiple piles of clothes on the floor, haphazardly thrown around without care. Some of them were damp, like they were removed from the washer in the middle of a cycle.

Cassie sat on her knees in the center of the room, nearly hyperventilating as she hastily sorted through the piles, tossing items over her shoulder when she deemed them unimportant. The dark circles on her face caught his eye, nearly black in color from a lack of sleep. Bottles of detergent were tipped over and leaking, almost as if someone had pushed them over in a fit of rage.

"Where is it?" Cassie mumbled unintelligibly to herself as her gaze became unfocused, her pupils blown wide. "Where is it, where is it, where is it, where is it, where is it—"

"What's going on?" Mark questioned in worry, his eyes snapping between the two. "Callie, what's going—"

"Where is it?!" Cassie shrieked, throwing her arms in the air and pounding them onto the ground, in a similar fashion of a child throwing a tantrum. "Fuck!"

"Angel, what's—"

"Did you take it?" she snapped, stumbling as she got to her feet and stormed up to her boyfriend. "Huh? Did you take it?!"

"Take what?" he asked cluelessly, once again looking at Callie. "What the hell is going on?"

"I left for one fucking second!" Cassie yelled, losing all sense of composure as her face turned red and her eyes watered. "I know one of you took it, so fucking give it back!"

"She's talking about George's sweater," Callie sighed, trying to calm her down. "Look, Cassie, I just wanted to help—"

"What did you do with it?!"

"I just washed it," she held her hand up in defense. "You've been wearing it for weeks, and I thought it would probably be dirty... I-I just wanted to help."

Cassie looked at her with a death glare, before letting out an uncharacteristic cry of anguish, grabbing the nearest item — which happened to be a glass soap dispenser — and chucking it at the wall, not pausing even as it broke into hundreds of tiny pieces.

"Why would you do that?!" she screamed, her hands coming up to either side of her head and pulling harshly on her hair, tearing out a chunk from her scalp. "Why would you do that, Callie?"

"I'm sorry," Callie whispered, crying from the guilt she felt for making her feel even worse. "I'm so sorry."

As she cried for the first time since George died, Cassie fell to the ground, her head dropping between her knees as a suffocating sob tore it's way through her chest.

Pointedly staring at Callie, Mark nodded his head towards the door, causing her to nod sadly in understanding and leave the two alone. He hesitantly took a step closer.

"Cass—" Mark cut himself off, not knowing what to do as he watched the woman he loved break down right in front of his eyes. Cassie let out a whimper, rocking back and forth as her breathing sped up in time with her sobs.

"Where d-did he go?" Cassie choked out, clawing at her stomach in search of some sort of comfort. Mark paused at the change in her words, his lips tugging downwards as he took another step closer. "Where did he go?"

Shards of glass cut into her bare legs as she sunk into the ground, her elbows hitting the tile when she was no longer capable of holding herself up.

"Baby, please, just try to breathe—"

Rapidly shaking her head, Cassie looked up at him with watery eyes, helpless and confused. "Where... where did he go, Mark?"

Realizing that words weren't going to be enough, Mark lowered himself to her level, scooping her into his arms. Cassie immediately reached to clutch his shirt tightly in her fist. Tears streaming down her face, she buried her head into the crook of his neck, letting him carry her away from the mess she created.

George's hoodie rested at the bottom of the laundry basket, unwashed, a simple piece of cloth forever holding onto the very last memories she had of him.

☆

Cassie raised a brow in question. "It's almost midnight, Georgie. What are you doing here?"

"Lily told me I should come," he shrugged, popping the cork off the bottle. "She said you looked sad."

"Lily? I haven't seen her all day."

"Yeah, you did," George disagreed. "She told me that she tried to talk to you in the elevator, but it seemed like you didn't even hear her."

"Oh," she bit her lip in thought. "That was rude, I should probably go apologize."

George shook his head. "Later. Right now, we're drinking, and eating all this ice cream I brought, because it'll melt if we don't."

Slowly, Cassie let a soft grin take over her features as she joined him in the living room. The two best friends sat next to each other on the couch, opening a tub of chocolate, cookie dough, and vanilla, sharing them with a spoon the size of Cassie's hand.

☆

Once the tears came, they never stopped.

Her throat ached from the crying, and her skin had started to peel from the dehydration. She hadn't eaten in three days, her ribs protruding from the top her stomach and black spots clouding her vision. She couldn't so much as stand up to use the restroom by herself without fainting on her way out of the door, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

George was dead.

Denny was dead.

Her mother was dead.

Lily was dead, and she was the one who let her die.

Cassie didn't believe in god. But at that moment, she wished more than anything that she did. If Cassie believed in god, then just maybe, she would be able to see some point in continuing to live.

Maybe, if she believed in god, the bastard wouldn't have taken her best friend away.

In the living room, Meredith, Cristina, Derek, and Mark stood in a circle, the faint sound of Cassie's cries evident in the silent room.

In unison, the group let out a sigh of relief as there was a knock at the door. Derek opened it, revealing Bailey wearing an unreadable expression on her face.

"She's in her bedroom," Derek told her, not bothering to say hello as he let her inside and shut the door behind her.

"I'm not entirely sure what you expect me to do," Bailey said, making her way toward's Cassie's room nonetheless.

"Anything is better than nothing," Mark said under his breath, exhausted from worrying.

If Bailey heard him, she ignored him, as she entered the room without knocking and paused in the doorway.

The older woman wasn't sure what she was expecting, but seeing Cassie in the state she was in, Bailey's heart broke a little bit.

Wordlessly, she closed the door behind her, sitting on the edge of the bed. Cassie looked at her, doe eyes searching for answers that couldn't be found.

"I think it's my fault," Cassie said softly.

Frowning, Bailey tilted her head down at her. "What do you mean?"

"The people who love me get hurt, or they die," she shrugged. "I think that if I weren't in his life... if I didn't let him care about me, then somehow, he... he would still be here."

"Cassie," Bailey sighed, her gaze fitting over the resident's face for several moments. "Nothing we do can stop death. George and Lily were in an accident. An awful, devastating accident, and there's nothing any of us could've done to prevent it."

Cassie shook her head determinedly, her thought process not budging. "I shouldn't have let him go." She looked down distractedly, intertwining her fingers. "He told me, that morning, and I just... let him go."

"He told me too," Bailey reasoned. "Do you think it's my fault?" Cassie didn't respond. "There's nothing we could do, Cassie. Things like this, they just happen."

"But why?" Cassie sniffled, briefly wiping her nose as she looked up once again. "Why do they happen? I-If nothing we do can stop death, then what's the point?" Pausing, the familiar words brought her back to that night. "What's the fucking point?"

Slowly, Bailey set a soothing hand on her arm. "The point," she said carefully, "is that our mortality is what makes life worthwhile." Cassie looked up at her. "If we all lived forever, then we wouldn't recognize what a gift life is. Death doesn't destroy the meaning of our lives, Cassie. Death is what gives life it's meaning."

Processing her words, Cassie tightened her hold on the covers, scooting further under the blankets as she continued to shed tears.

"This doesn't feel like a gift," Cassie murmured, quietly hiccuping a sob. "It feels like I'm in a nightmare, and I-I keep pinching myself... but no matter what I do... I can't wake up." Turning to face Bailey with a hopeless pout, her lip wobbled as she spoke. "I really want to wake up."

Bailey paused for a moment, thinking back to the funeral over a month ago, where Cassie was nowhere to be found.

"Have you said goodbye?"

Clenching her eyes shut, she shook her head, biting her lip to keep the sobs at bay. "I can't."

Sympathetically, Bailey sighed, tears stinging her own eyes at the thought of losing her favorite intern, the man she named her son after.

"That's the only way you'll wake up, Cassie," she told her sadly. "That's the only way you'll be able to move on. It's time to say goodbye."

☆

Cassie let out an unattractive snort as George did some type of weird shimmy with his shoulders, mocking him as she did the same move, only ten times more dramatic.

As the chorus of the song came on once again, George linked elbows with Cassie facing the opposite direction, skipping in circles and making her laugh even harder than before.

"Ouch, that was my foot!" Cassie cackled, stepping on George's in retaliation and making him nearly fall to the ground. He used Cassie's arm as leverage to keep him upright as he tripped over his own feet, continuing to turn in fast circles.

"This isn't even dancing anymore!" George bellowed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned at the side of Cassie's face. "Cass, I'm getting dizzy!"

"Me too!"

In unison, the duo fell to the floor in a heap of limbs, their bodies shaking with giggles and exhaustion. Once they calmed down a bit, they craned their necks to look at each other, only to erupt in a fit of laughter once again.

Cassie threw her head back against the carpet, her cheeks stinging from the wide grin on her face. She turned back to George, who had his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he tried and failed to control his breathing, a few spare giggles still making their way out of his chest.

Cassie reached down, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. George returned the gesture, angling his head to rest against her own as a soft smile came over his lips.

☆

Cassie stared blankly at the small graves, sitting cross-legged on the grass with her hands tucked into her pockets.

She read the inscriptions written on the stones in front of her for the millionth time, the words forever engrained into her brain.

LILLIAN BLAIR
Always in our minds.
Jan. 20, 1983 — June 10, 2009.

GEORGE O'MALLEY
Forever in our hearts.
March 2, 1980 — June 10, 2009.

Cassie could barely look at Lily's grave without feeling sick to her stomach, knowing that if she had just done one thing different, she would still be alive.

Resting a single white rose in front of Lily's headstone, Cassie blinked harshly, before moving to sit directly in front of George's. Elbows resting on her knees, she ducked her head, sitting in silence for several moments.

"I hate you," she choked out, her breath catching in the back her throat. "I hate you for what you did."

Cassie chuckled in a humorless manner, unaware of the tears falling from her eyes. "God, you just had to be a fucking hero, didn't you?" Tugging at the grass, she looked away from the grave, not able to handle seeing his name. "You didn't... you didn't even think about anyone else. You... you were selfish, and I hate you."

Her voice rising as her breathing picked up, she hiccuped a sob, her hands subconsciously tightening their hold on her hoodie as she got to her feet and began pacing in an attempt to calm down.

"I-I wish I had never even met you, George. I wish... I wish I could go back in time. a-and tell myself not to love you." She shook her head, her brows knit together as her volume continued to rise. "I-I wish you never even existed." Angrily shifting on her feet, she payed no mind to surroundings, unaware of the eyes watching her. "Fuck, I wish you had died in Iraq, because at least then your death would have fucking meant something!"

Glaring down at the simple piece of concrete, she broke down into a fit of hysterical cries, letting out a sound of anguish as she clutched the side of her head, which was pounding.

"But most of all," she sobbed, her arms wrapping tightly around herself, "I wish that everything I just said wasn't a fucking lie!"

Falling to her knees, Cassie felt her entire world crumble around her.

"You're a liar," Cassie cried, the words coming as as merely a squeak as her throat constricted from the lack of air. "You lied to me, Georgie." Her breath coming out in short pants, she began to hyperventilate, causing the person watching her to move a step closer. "It was a goodbye."

☆

"I—" Cassie stuttered over her words, biting her lip to keep the sobs at bay. "I'm really going to miss you."

"Hey, hey, don't cry," George soothed, his smile still fully in tact. "This is good, Cass. This is a good thing. I'm happy."

Cassie nodded, trying to stop the tears but to no avail. George sighed, letting go of her hand and pulling her into his chest as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." Cassie whispered, shaking her head. "You're my best friend in the whole world. You can't just expect me to say goodbye in less than 24 hours."

"This isn't a goodbye, Cass," George told her truthfully, holding her body tightly against his own. "It's just a see you later."

☆

Immediately moving from his place a few feet away, Mark promptly made his way to Cassie's side. She sat on her knees, hunched over George's grave, holding his hoodie as tightly as possible around her body.

Cassie didn't need to look to see who it was as strong arms wrapped around her writhing form. For a moment, she struggled against him, attempting and failing to pry his arms away. Mark didn't budge, simply holding her tightly against his chest.

Almost as soon as she tried to get away, she gave up, her entire body going limp as her head lolled back against his shoulder. Mark held her, not saying a word.

There weren't any words to say.

Pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head and rubbing her back in a soothing motion, Mark glanced behind her at the matching graves, a sinking feeling in his chest.

Cassie's best friend was dead, and the world would never be the same.

She would never be the same.

☆

George put an arm around her, leaning his head on her shoulder as he spoke quietly.

"We're going to survive this, right?"

Cassie thought for a moment, before smiling softly at him, her head moving to rest atop his own. "Yeah," she whispered. "We'll survive this."

author's note —
whatever you do, don't listen
to the chorus of amnesia by
5sos from cassie's point of
view. well, unless you want
to cry, in which case i say go
for it.

</3