He waited. He waited through the onslaught of the reporters, seeking one more scandalous detail. He waited through the platitudes that his, their friends, offered, without really understanding. He waited through the cameras trained on his every move and the black cars following him around the city. He waited.
He believed. He believed his friend was a genius. He believed that this was cruel joke that somehow must end. He believed that evil was real and good must triumph. He believed that his friend had saved him, so there must have been a way to return the favor. He believed.
He lived. He lived through the reporters camped on his doorstep. He lived through the police investigation. He lived through the grief that barley let him get out of bed or leave his flat. He lived through the funeral. He lived.
He lived by helping to clear his friend's name. He believed enough to ask for one more miracle. He waited for his friend to return.