The predictability of the blue and yellow square patterned wallpaper did little to soothe the group waiting for news about Sodapop, the hospital's atmosphere thick with tension and the kind of sadness that was so heavy, it seemed tangible.

Dr. Simons, confident in his own abilities, and that of the whole medical staff at St. John's, rehearsed the news he had to deliver, thankful to know it would be well received by the group that appeared so tight-knit. He approached the man who had previously introduced himself as his patient's older brother. "Family of Sodapop Curtis?"

Five expectant pairs of eyes looked at the doctor, though only Darry stood up, realizing his own role. "Yes! Is he okay? When can we see him?"

Dr. Simons looked into the eyes of this exhausted brother, a man he knew had likely saved the patient's life with his own arrival to the scene. "Your brother is in recovery, Mr. Curtis. He isn't awake yet. We removed the bullet and repaired the ruptured vein in Sodapop's right arm."

Darry felt Pony come and stand next to him, soon followed by Steve, as he nodded along, urging the doctor to continue.

"His vital signs are all stable, meaning his breathing and heart rate are fine. I was concerned about his blood pressure earlier, but it's steadily increasing. We stitched up and bandaged the bullet wound, which is, of course, going to need some follow-up care to heal. But we're giving him antibiotics to prevent infection, as well as pain medicine."

Pony spoke next, his nerves remaining on edge, though this all sounded like good news. "So when will he wake up?"

Dr. Simons smiled, able to see the relief on the faces of all listening to him talk about Sodapop. "He'll wake up soon, but he needs the rest for right now anyway. As always with this type of trauma, I'm concerned there could be other physical complications, meaning I'll keep an eye on him for signs of soft tissue or nerve damage. But those kinds of issues can be managed over time. He's certainly in stable and much improved condition, and he's doing as well as can be expected."

Darry shook Dr. Simons' hand. "Thank you so much. So we can see him, while he's in recovery?"

Dr. Simons, seeing the eagerness of the group, nodded. "But only two of you at a time, please."


The world of unconsciousness lost its grip on Soda, as he felt himself begin to wake up, though his eyelids felt too heavy to open.

"It's okay if you just need to rest, little buddy. But I want you to know me and Pony are right here."

"Yeah, Soda. I really want you to wake up, but it's all right if you can't. I'm just glad you're okay."

Soda recognized the voices as Darry's and Pony's, able to feel one hand touching his own and another on his shoulder. Why do I need to rest? he wondered. And why is Pony glad I'm okay? Why wouldn't I be okay?

Soda managed to open his eyes, wanting answers to his questions, though sleep still beckoned him to fall back into it. He groaned, focusing his vision enough to see both of his brothers, mumbled words coming from his lips. "What happened to me?"

Darry answered first, as he touched Soda's cheek. "You got hurt, Sodapop. You had to have surgery. But you're already getting better."

Soda moved his toes and licked his dry lips. "Hurt?" The word sank into his mind, as the night came back to him in pieces. He shifted his barely open eyes to look at his right arm, seeing it was bandaged up with a splint surrounding it. "He shot me."

Darry slid the chair behind him closer to Soda's bed, then settled into it. "Yeah. I was on my way to pick you up."

Soda flexed his fingers and moved his arm slightly, as he eyed the bandage, picturing the wound he knew was underneath it, the bullet hole that had bled so much. "Feels kind of funny, but doesn't hurt that much right now." He turned his head, meeting Darry's eyes. "You probably saved my life, Dar."

Darry felt tears in his eyes at the sincere statement, the truths within and underneath it hurting his heart. "I love you, little buddy, and I'm so glad I was there to help."


In a plastic chair next to a window sat Steve, his eyes staring through the glass, even though the night's darkness didn't allow for the most colorful or soothing view of the hospital's blooming spring garden.

Nicholas, realizing the reassurances and the good news had already been spoken, sat with his son, remaining quiet for the moment.

"I know he's okay, but I don't feel okay at all, Dad."

"That's all right, Son. Soda's your best friend, and he got hurt. I don't expect you to feel okay about that."

"Getting hurt is falling on the ground and scraping up your knee, or getting a black eye."

Nicholas waited, believing Steve had to get out whatever he was thinking, the logic of what it meant to get hurt becoming a springboard.

"Or your girl breaking your heart. He didn't just get hurt, Dad."

Nicholas, knowing his son in the deepest ways he could, heard more than the argument in his raised voice, more than the sheltering anger.

"He didn't just get a hole in his arm! Someone, some asshole, did that to him, and he could've bled to death. No one said it outloud, but I know it! I know it, Dad. So don't say he got hurt!"

Nicholas wrapped Steve in a hug, absorbing the resentment being directed at him, knowing the pain and fear that lay beneath it.

"Sorry I yelled at you."

"I know you need to get it off your chest, so it's okay, Son. It's okay."

Steve let himself sink into the embrace, his arms also going around his dad, as he rested his head on his chest. "I need to see him. I think I'll feel better after I do."


Soda smiled at Pony, finding it felt good, despite the grogginess and fatigue in his physical body. He reached out with his hand that had the IV tubing attached to squeeze his little brother's hand. "I'm okay, Pone."

Pony slid both arms around Soda, careful of the IV and his injured arm. "I know. But you scared us to death."

Darry moved to Soda's other side, an arm around him, as he kissed the top of his head. "I'm going to go get Steve, little buddy. He really wants to see you too."


The self-deprecating thoughts remained without a voice, the sting of regret sharp, while Soda's softly spoken words greeted his best friend. "Hey, come on in here, Stevie."

Steve found he couldn't speak, as he sat down in the chair beside Soda's bed, his focus split between logical knowledge and emotion. He gripped the sleeve of his best friend's hospital gown, his eyes wandering to Soda's injured arm. He saw the bandage that covered it, protecting the wound inflicted by the bullet, allowing it to heal.

Soda followed Steve's gaze. "I ain't going to lie to you. I was scared. I was trying to do what he said and give him the money, but he shot me. It hurts, but I'm here. I'm alive."

Steve's fingers still gripped the sleeve of the hospital gown, both an apology and an admission dying on his lips, as he leaned closer and laid his head on Soda's shoulder. "You're going to be fine. Just fine, buddy."

Soda turned slightly, then lifted his uninjured arm to wrap it around Steve, his voice growing unsteady, as tears sprang up in his eyes. "I've never felt anything like that, Stevie. And there was so much blood. If Darry hadn't come when he did-"

Steve's chest ached, and he shook, as he tried not to cry again, both hands now holding onto Soda. Just as he'd told Nicholas, he knew what the outcome would've been if Darry had been much later, if Soda had been left alone, if he hadn't been able to call for help, if- "But he did. So don't even go there, buddy." Please, he thought. Don't ever go there.


The silence of the hospital chapel wasn't broken, even when the door opened, and Nicholas stepped inside the familiar sanctuary. He spotted Steve in a back row pew. "Hey, I was just looking for you."

Steve remembered how he'd left Soda's room, knowing his friend was about to fall back asleep and that he certainly needed the rest. "I just came here."

Nicholas sat down beside Steve, his eyes drifting to a pew on the front row. "I came here when you were in the hospital too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The second night you were admitted. Samuel told me it was here. He sat and prayed with me after I told him I couldn't do it without crying."

"I didn't know he came when I was here."

"He did. I remember when I got back to your room, you told me I looked like I'd been crying."

"I was in here earlier too. When Soda was still in surgery. I cried and prayed. That's all I've done this whole night. And yell too. Can't forget that."

"It's been a really rough night, Son."

"Dad, I don't feel better. I thought I would."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I'd feel better after I saw Soda. But I don't. I mean, I'm glad I saw him, but...I don't know."

"It might take more time. That's all. It's been a lot to take in."

"But he's okay. And it's not like I'm the one who got shot. I know why I feel the way I do, but I keep thinking I shouldn't."

"Son, you love Soda so much. We all love him. It's hard to see him in any kind of pain. And, like you told me earlier, it's worse to know what could've happened."

"Soda was in such a good mood at work tonight, whistling and stuff, that I rolled my eyes at him."

Nicholas smiled at the image. "That sounds like both of you."

"Then, he told me to go on home, that he'd close up. So I did, then I made you go on your date."

"You made me, huh?"

Steve chuckled, even while he realized it didn't feel right. "Yeah. I did. Then, I watched TV and laughed at the show and ate pizza."

"You were having a normal Friday night."

"Yeah. And it's weird to think about cause Soda didn't know what was about to happen. I didn't know what was about to happen, and when he got shot, I was probably laughing at the stupid TV or teasing you about Audrey."

"We never know, Son. We never know when something bad might happen."

"It wasn't a normal night at all. When Darry called, what he told me, that's the worst thing I've ever heard."


Nicholas parked his car beside Darry's truck in the DX lot, post-dawn light surrounding the station. "I think I'm going to go back and get Steve, then take him home."

Darry nodded from the passenger seat, looking inside the DX, seeing that it was clean and intact, making it appear as if nothing had even happened just several hours before. "I'm going to do the same with Ponyboy. Soda's just going to sleep now, so we should all get some rest. Just being able to see he's going to be all right makes me feel like I can relax now, you know?"

"Yeah. I can understand that."

"Did Steve ever call Mr. Coleman?"

"Yeah. He did not long after Soda got out of surgery. Of course, he already knew what happened because the police called him too."

"He'll probably go see Soda soon. Dr. Simons hasn't really said how long he'll be in the hospital, but I'm thinking it'll be at least a couple of days."

Nicholas touched Darry's arm, as he saw him reach for the door handle. "I meant what I said before. If you or Pony need anything, let me know. And, of course, if Soda needs anything. You know I love him too."

"Thanks. I do know that. It's impossible not to love him, isn't it?" Darry's hand dropped away from the door handle, as he sighed. "I'm actually really worried about how all of this is going to affect him." He looked at the DX building, memories from the night before crystal clear. "I don't just mean physically either. Damn, Soda loves life, and he could've died. He takes things hard. Not that he shouldn't. I'm just worried this is going to hurt him emotionally too."

"I can see why you would be. To be honest, it worries me too. I know Soda's been through a lot. All of you have. But he sure has stayed at Steve's side through everything this past year too. So it goes without saying, but I want you to remember he won't ever be alone in anything."


"I just gave him some more pain medicine, so he should be able to keep resting well."

Pony nodded at the nurse named Rita, his eyes only leaving Soda long enough to notice her red hair that reminded him of Cherry Valance. "Okay. Thank you."

Steve sat on Soda's other side, his fingers grazing the edge of the splint around his injured arm. "So he's really doing okay?"

Rita picked up her clipboard, noting Soda's vital signs that were normal and stable. "Absolutely." She looked at both Steve and Pony, realizing the night before hadn't only been rough for her patient. "Dr. Simons says it's fine for you boys to sit with Sodapop as long as you behave yourselves, but it's okay for you to go home and get some rest too. I promise we're taking good care of him."

Pony touched Soda's hand, squeezing it. "I know. I think my other brother is about to make me do that anyway. He went to pick up his truck."

Steve didn't respond to Rita's suggestion, realizing his dad was also going to want to take him home.

Pony waited until the nurse had left the room, before speaking again. "I know it's dumb, but it bothers me to leave him."

Steve shook his head, easily replying to Pony's comment with his own sentiment. "It's not dumb, Kid. I'm sitting here too, ain't I? Hell, the last time I left him-" He cut off his thought, looking away from Pony and moving his hand to rest on top of Soda's.

Pony chose not to question Steve's unfinished statement, his gaze moving to Soda's bandaged arm. "You think it'll really heal?"

"I don't know, Kid. I sure hope so."

"I was just thinking of what the doctor said about damage, and it seems, I don't know, like you can't get shot and it not always affect you somehow."

"I guess we'll just have to see. Doc sounded like he knows his stuff. People get shot all the time so..."

Pony bit his lower lip, his eyes moving over Soda, as if assessing him. "I keep telling myself he's just sleeping. But he looks awful out of it."

"That's how he can heal, Kid. That's all. Pain medicine probably knocked him out too. At least he was awake earlier, or I think it'd drive me crazy too. You know?"

"Yeah. I know." Pony looked at Steve, a unity existing between them that he didn't always feel. "I think I'm going to go grab another Pepsi. I feel like I need to move around a little anyway, or I'll start thinking too much."

"I can dig that, Kid."

Pony still stared at Soda, as he made his way out of the room. "I'll be back."

Steve grinned. "Geez, Sodapop. You're making me and Pony bond. You better wake up, before the world ends."

Soda stirred, his eyes opening slightly. "What's up, Stevie?"

"Just sitting here with you."

"When can I go home?"

"I don't know yet, buddy."

"Doesn't feel real."

"I know, man. You just need to sleep."

Steve watched Soda's eyes close again. "You're all right, you know. But I bet it just doesn't feel like it right now. You'll be out of here soon enough too."


"Aw, do I have to go, Darry?"

Darry sighed, understanding Pony's protest and also expecting it. "Yes. We're both going to go home, Pone. We'll come back later, I promise."

Pony, a can of Pepsi in his hand, glanced down the hall where Soda's room was. "I slept a little in the waiting room. I'm fine."

Darry touched the side of Pony's head, pushing the hair back off his face, before putting an arm around his shoulders. "That's not rest, little brother. Trust me. Soda's just sleeping, like he needs, and he's doing fine. We have to take care of ourselves too."


"Come on, Son. Let's go home for a little bit. You're half-asleep."

Steve opened his eyes at his dad's voice, not wanting to admit he was dozing in the plastic chair at Soda's bedside. "I am not."

"You and Ponyboy are more alike than either of you would ever admit."

"What?"

Nicholas pulled the other chair up, so he could sit beside Steve. He looked at Soda, touching his arm, as he spoke. "You're both the same way with him."

"Oh."

"I don't want to worry about you too, Steve. He's okay. Nothing's going to happen if you leave for a little while."

"That's not-" Steve looked at Nicholas, then at Soda. "That's not what I think."

"You can't be there for him if you're exhausted, Son."

"I know that. I'm coming. Just give me a minute. Okay, Dad?"

"Okay. I'll be out in the hall." Nicholas put his chair back on the other side of Soda's bed, then squeezed his hand, as a goodbye. "We'll be back later, Sodapop. You sleep as much as you need, so you can get better."

Steve felt the tension inside him growing, as Nicholas stepped into the hallway. He swallowed hard, reminding himself Soda would be staying right here.

Nicholas stood beside the door and watched Steve. He saw him draw closer to Soda, a hand on his shoulder, as he started to whisper something in his ear. Able to sense the closeness in this private moment, Nicholas turned away, tears blurring his vision. His own voice as quiet as his son's whisper, he sent up a prayer for Soda to recover fully, for God to touch him and heal him in both body and mind.


Darry held back a chuckle, as he took the Pepsi can from Pony's hand and pulled a blanket over his sleeping brother. "Fine, my ass. We barely got in the door, before you passed out."

Leaving Pony on the couch, Darry went to his bedroom, not yet aware that when he closed the door, the quietness within would lead to his soul's collision with reality.


The slam of Steve's bedroom door startled Nicholas, even in the aftermath of his son's hurried footsteps. He paused for only a moment, before deciding to check on him, quietly opening the door. "Son?"

Steve didn't look at Nicholas, facing the wall from his place on the bed. "What, Dad? You want me to rest. So I'm resting."

"You just seem like you're angry."

Steve clenched his fists, fingers gripping the pillow case. "Well, I'm not. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. You don't have to worry about me. I know you don't want to."

"You know I didn't mean it like that, Steve."

"No, I don't! Cause I don't know anything, Dad!"

Nicholas stepped fully into Steve's bedroom. "What do you mean?"

Steve's arms wrapped around the pillow, as he pressed his face into it. "Nothing. I don't mean anything. Sorry for yelling at you again. You didn't do anything."

Nicholas put a hand on Steve's back, rubbing circles he hoped would calm him. "I know. It's okay."

"I'm not trying to be a jerk, I swear."

"You're just upset, Son. I understand that."

"Upset? I'm not just upset, Dad. I feel like I- I mean, I shouldn't have-"

Nicholas' hand went still, though he kept it on Steve's back. "Shouldn't have what?"

Steve lifted his head, his gaze locking with Nicholas' for a moment, before he tore his eyes away from his dad's gentle look that was making his heart want to open up. "Nothing. I'm just still worried about Soda."


"My stomach really hurts."

Rita listened to Soda's heartbeat, noting his pulse rate was higher than it should be. "Are you nauseous?"

Soda nodded, taking in a sharp breath. "Things look funny too, and I'm kind of dizzy."

Rita observed Soda's unsteady breathing, as she put the stethoscope back around her neck. "Sodapop, I think you're experiencing side effects from the pain medication. I'm going to call Dr. Simons."


Memories played behind Darry's closed eyes, making him jerk awake. He looked around his bedroom, his current whereabouts a reassurance. "He's okay. Soda's okay. He's just at the hospital. You're at home. He's alive."


Soda felt the oxygen mask slide onto his face. "It hurts. Please. Please make it stop."

Dr. Simons leaned close to Soda, his voice soft with the need to calm his patient. "Listen to me, Sodapop. I know you're uncomfortable. The oxygen mask is going to help you breathe better. No one here is going to hurt you."

"But he shot me. He was here, and he shot me."


Darry pulled himself out of bed, pacing down the hall to check on Pony. "See? He's okay too." But of course Pony's okay, he thought. He's not hurt. He didn't get shot.

Darry's feet carried him back to his bedroom, his train of thought still on the same track: Soda's the one who was shot. Soda's the one who had a traveling piece of metal tear into his body.

Darry pressed his hands to his face, not expecting to feel the moisture of tears. "Oh, God, we could've lost Sodapop. We almost lost him."

Realizing those words had come unbidden from his lips, like some sort of epiphany disguised as a prayer, Darry pulled his hands away from his face and looked down at them. He saw the hands that had held onto his middle brother, that had done what they could to call for help and slow down the bleeding he'd known could take Soda's life.

Tears fell down Darry's cheeks, the clear droplets landing on his hands to mix with the blood-red memories, the cries over what had happened blending with the relief that time had been on their side, not giving death a chance.


Rita held Soda's hand in both of her own, her thumbs moving in circles on his skin. "It's okay, honey. We're getting your heart rate down, and you're breathing better."

Soda relaxed, even with the discomfort that remained, inhaling the mist of oxygen, as he felt his distress beginning to subside.


"TwoBit, I swear if you don't shut the hell up right now, I'm going to put your head through that damn window over there."

TwoBit's expression became one of incredulity, not expecting the venom in Steve's voice. "Woah. Sorry, man. I was just saying I wondered. That's all."

Steve opened his dresser drawer, just to slam it closed a second later. "Well, I don't want to fuckin' talk about it, okay? It's not like we know anyone who'd do anything like that. Fighting is one thing. But this ain't a rumble, and all that shit is over with around here anyway."

"I know. I got it, buddy. I won't say anything else then."

Steve slammed his fist down on the dresser, the urge to break the mirror striking him. "It ain't you, man. I'm just pissed off at the world right now."

"Damn. You've got a right to be. I don't blame you for it at all, Steve."

Steve pressed his hand flat against the mirror, his palm touching the glass. But I do, he thought. I blame me, and I hate being this way.


"Sodapop is stable now. But I had to order a change in his pain medication because he didn't tolerate the Percodan well."

Darry stared at Dr. Simons, his thinking muddled, despite the rest he'd gotten. "Stable now? What happened?"

Dr. Simons met the eyes of the man in front of him, able to feel the concern radiating off him. "He was having side effects, and some of them were potentially serious. His heart rate increased, and he wasn't able to breathe well."

"But he's better now?"

"Yes, Mr. Curtis. His heart rate is close to normal, and he's able to breathe more efficiently. He's on oxygen for now."

"And you're certain it was because of the medication?"

"Absolutely. He also had some of the more common side effects, such as stomach pain and nausea. Those aren't severe or of great concern in most cases. But, as you can imagine, heart and respiratory issues are. He seemed disoriented as well. I'll continue to monitor him, of course, but he's doing much better now."


Soda pulled at the oxygen mask that was still on his face. "Can't I take it off, Dar? I'm all right now."

Darry put the mask back into place. "No can do, little buddy. You keep it on until Dr. Simons says you don't need it."

Pony eyed Soda's bandaged arm, finding he was curious. "How's it feel, Soda?"

Soda looked at his injured right arm, lifting it slightly and moving his wrist and fingers around. "I don't know. It aches, and my fingers feel kind of weird sometimes."

Darry, remembering Dr. Simons' words about damage, asked another question. "Weird how, Pepsi Cola?"

Soda winced at a twinge of pain from the healing bullet wound. "Kind of tingly, I guess."

Pony, noticing Darry's expression, changed the subject. "Hey, is there anything I can bring you from home? I mean, I know you can't do much, but it sure seems like you'd get bored too."

Soda lifted himself against his pillow, so he was almost sitting up, as he considered the question. "Maybe a deck of cards? And those car magazines in my room."

Darry stifled a laugh. "I know those ain't just car magazines you've got in there, little buddy."

Pony blushed, picking up on the implication of what Darry was saying.

Soda started to laugh at the look on Pony's face. "Geez, Dar, I can't believe you just said that in front of our little brother."

Pony protested, even while he was smiling a the sound of Soda's laughter. "Hey, I'm going on sixteen!"

Darry chuckled, the humor bringing some relief to the tension he felt. "But you're red as a tomato, Kiddo!"

Soda, his eyes peeking out just above the oxygen mask, winked at Pony. "Just don't go looking under my mattress. Okay, Pone?"


"Steve, you have to calm down. He's okay."

Steve felt Darry's hands on his shoulders and heard his voice, but he couldn't imagine calming down. "No. Nothing about this is okay!"

Nicholas intervened, eyeing the way Steve's jaw was clenched. "Son, the doctor took him off that medicine. So it won't happen anymore."

Steve backed up a step, making Darry's hands release him. "I just- I didn't like leaving him. I didn't like it at all and now..."

Darry moved forward, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder again. "Your dad's right, Steve. Dr. Simons changed the medication. If it helps, I didn't like leaving him either. But this is why they check vitals, and this is why Soda's still here. To keep an eye on him."

Steve didn't pull away from Darry's touch this time, but kept his jaw clenched. "He's breathing all right now?"

Darry nodded, squeezing Steve's shoulder, able to feel the tension in him. "Yes. And his heart rate is normal. Dr. Simons even let him take the oxygen mask off."

Nicholas saw Steve's eyes close, as he shared a look with Darry. "I know it's scary, Son. But it didn't happen because you weren't there with him. It happened because of-"

Steve interrupted his dad's words, finishing his sentence for him. "The medication. Okay. I hear you guys. I hear you."

Darry let his hand drop from Steve's shoulder. "I know you're worried about Soda. Hell, I know I don't talk like it all the time, but I am too."

Steve's eyes moved to Darry's face, then to his dad's. "You're both looking at me, like you think I'm about to break or something."

Nicholas sighed, putting a hand on Steve's arm. "I'm just wanting to make sure you're okay, Son."

Steve smiled a little, not as annoyed as he'd tried to make himself sound. "I know, Dad."

Darry grinned, as he nodded in the direction of his brother's hospital room. "TwoBit's in there with Soda now, and it's been a while. Maybe you should go rescue him."


"How do I look?"

Soda looked at TwoBit, who had put the oxygen mask over his own face, his eyes narrowed in focused concentration, as they shifted back and forth.

Steve's voice came from the doorway. "Like you need some serious help."

Soda tried to smile at TwoBit's offended expression, but he had to look away, a deep breath of relief escaping only when his friend moved the oxygen mask away from his face. "Hey, TwoBit, why don't you go swipe me a chocolate bar?"

TwoBit put the oxygen mask down on the bed, so it lay beside Soda. "Me? Steal chocolate? What kind of hood do you take me for?"

Steve sat down in one of the two chairs beside Soda's bed. "One who swipes stuff for kicks."

TwoBit gave Soda's shoulder a squeeze, still smiling, though his voice was sincere. "I'm so glad to see you awake and joking around, man. You got no idea. So, really, do you need anything?"

Soda shook his head, leaning back against his pillow. "Nah. I'm okay, man. Probably going to sleep some more in a bit."

TwoBit nodded, before turning to go. "I'll be around tomorrow, all right? See you then. You too, Steve."

Soda picked up the oxygen mask, touching the clear plastic and the tubing that connected it to the supply tank. "Sure. See you, TwoBit."

Steve saw the way Soda's eyes stared at the oxygen mask, noticing how distracted he seemed. "You really doing okay now, buddy? I got real worried just hearing about how you were earlier."

Soda's gaze moved from the oxygen mask to his injured arm, before he closed his eyes tightly.

"Are you hurting? Do I need to get a nurse?"

"No. It's not that." Soda's eyes opened back up, as he tried to focus his attention on Steve. "I think I just need to sleep. I mean, it hasn't even been a whole day yet since..."

"Yeah. That's true. You can rest, buddy. I'll still sit here with you, even if you just sleep."

"Yeah. I know you will." Soda looked toward the window on the other side of the room, seeing there was no longer a steady stream of daylight coming through the blinds. "It's starting to get dark."

Steve's eyes moved between the window and his best friend, curious about the random observation. "Yeah?"

Soda found himself breathing in deeply, putting the reminders behind the closed doors of his mind. "I'm just talking, Stevie. It's nothing."

Steve, finding it had become a habit with Soda still in the hospital, reached to hold his best friend's hand. He couldn't help but notice when Soda's return grip became tighter than he'd anticipated. "All right, buddy. You can get some sleep. And if I'm not here when you wake up again, I'll see you tomorrow."