Scott did feel bad for keeping his brother awake. Virgil was tired and needed to sleep but he was genuinely afraid of being left alone with this nothingness.
So now they were playing bad word games and laughing around the fear of their own discoveries; Virgil's hearing was failing and his own memory was shot. Still the games where a pleasant distraction, and he was having more fun then he'd like to admit setting Virgil's monitors off.
He was toying with his nightshirt; a rough scratchy material much like his own, feeling the deep melodic laughter ripple through his chest and the muscle tighten as it caused a small twinge of pain, grinning as he was swiftly called something unrepeatable.
The door clattered open and he had to nudge Virgil, heart sinking as he realised he hadn't heard the door.
'Oh, John' he said, for his benefit he knew, but he sounded genuinely happy to announce Alan was there too.
Scott didn't need his eyes to pick up on the stiff mannerisms the tones gave away. The relief was too forced. The convocations from then on where awkward and forced, and Scott wanted to tell them to go away. It was easier when it was just them, they could pretend to forget what was wrong, then didn't ask each other how they where, they didn't ask for details, because they knew. They where broken and shattered, so they played their games and they forgot. Eventually a nurse came in, told them visiting was over and Scott had to go back to his own room. Scott had to sit in that darkness and silence in his own, adrift and lost. The other left and he clung to Virgil for a moment longer before she insisted.
'I'll see you tomorrow, okay?' Virgil said in soft tones that promised safety, scott didn't need his eyes to see the soft smile that came with the words.
Tomorrow couldn't come round soon enough.