Every now and then Mao would glance at Luke's power display from out of the corner of his eye. He went on playing with sand himself, growing a small hill that he added to with one handful of sand after the other. There was a thoughtful scowl on his face, Mao didn't like talking about his feelings and things like that, but he felt strangely compelled to at the moment. The weight of all his worries was heavy on his shoulders.
"It's like, at any second, something can go wrong and everything will be fucked up." He paused, gritting his teeth before rushing into a kind of rambling, stream of consciousness type rant. "Like this thing with James. I keep thinking I'm going to do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, and then that's it, man, that's totally it! We'd be done for good. I can't relax, I can't be normal. I still act like everything is cool, but its not the same. I don't think it'll ever be the same."
"And it's not just with him. It's like that for everything. Even right now, we're sitting here and everything is good, but how long is it gonna be before we're spitting in each other's faces again? Or, like, if it's not something that I end up doing, or someone else, it's like, fate can just step right up and fuck me over. Maybe a car accident, or someone gets sick, or their powers go crazy, or who ever is doing all this stuff to us on the island takes someone away...or...or, like, whatever!" He swung his hand and scattered his sand pile with a single blow.
"Sometimes I wonder what's the point of doing anything about anything at all."