Joe lay on his bed with tears flowing long after his brother's once-girlfriend had left. The soup from before had opened his stomach. He felt hunger now: painful, dizzying hunger. He could feel all his bones, stretched thin over pale skin. He knew what Callie had said had been true—

It's you who was lost

—and now he was at a loss as to what to do about it.

"Frank?" he whispered, knowing his brother wouldn't materialize until he was ready to.

"I've been thinking a lot. I know that you tell me not to, but I am anyway. And I understand now…how bad I made you feel. And I'm sorry," the younger Hardy's light tears turned quickly to sobs. "I'm sorry, Frank. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry to everyone."

Silence, still. Joe curled up and pulled the covers over his body, shutting his eyes tightly to block the sunlight that filtered unwillingly through his window. Sleep wouldn't come, but memories did: he felt the warmth of his brother's body against his own, the struggle to breathe through filtered darkness, the paralysis that held his body immobile.

I know how to handle him.

Oh God, Frank…

Just stay calm.

Why?