Vincent's hands shook, muddy hospital coffee sloshing audibly within its container. He glanced over, Faythe sitting in the chair next to him; she was curled into a ball, trying to hold herself together at the seams. Her face was hidden, her tears obvious but silent. A sense of eternity surrounded the two; the creeping silence suffocating them. A nurse walked in, looking around; Vincent looked around with her: they were the only two in the room. She settled on the two of them, walking over to them.
"Mr. Way?" she asked; hers was a quiet, practiced voice that knew no emotion while addressing families. Faythe flinched at the words- the name.
Vincent stood up, "Yes? Err, could we speak more privately?" The girl glanced waywardly to Faythe, understanding the implications of his words and nodded, walking into the hallway with Vincent in tow.
Faythe watched them through the doorway. She stood up, wiping her eyes and walking over to the bathroom. She stared at herself long and hard, nothing she seen reminded her of Sophomore Faythe: she wasn't smiling or dressed neatly; she wasn't glad to be alive or well. But she was still thinking about Danté. Danté. It was the first time in a long time she had called him that.
Vincent was in his seat again when Faythe walked out. He looked calm, but she couldn't tell as Ava would have been able to. Vincent watched her walk over, arms crossed against his chest; as she drew closer, he stood up, hugging her. Faythe stood there a moment, Vincent's arms around her; reluctantly, she hugged him back, exhaling shakily. She pulled away, holding his gaze.
"Go see him; he's stable, and only one of us can go at a time." Vincent whispered out, his hands on her hips.
Faythe didn't notice, nodding and taking the given opportunity, "Sure, Vinny." She walked off to Danté's room, glancing over her shoulder at Vincent, who had pulled his phone out of his pocket and was dialing.