santella stuff

They just couldnt see, that it was me needing you, not you needing me.

(Help idk how to title things uh. Yeah so song lyrics 😜😜)

Vincent had sat in the waiting room for a while now. God, he was shaking harder than anything before. He didn't want anything to happen to Grant. He rubbed his head, trying to not focus on Grant falling 40 stories out of a building.
"Are you," the woman looked down at the clipboard, "Mr. Vincent Callan?" She smiled, despite the weight of the situation. Vincent nodded, and the nurse motioned for him to follow her. She took him to Grant's room, and walked off.
Vincent sat in a chair, and stared at Grant, who was presumably sleeping. The beeping of the machines filled the air, Vincent kept looking around.
God, Grant probably would think this was so weird, should he have even came? He just stared. God, that song rang in his head.
But he knew he'd probably been too early. But still, he sat, waiting.
He didn't wake up.

He came back the next day. He hadn't gotten enough sleep, god, how that medicine made it hard to sleep. And his nightmares.
He stared at him as he walked in.
"V..Vincent?" The hoarse voice spoke. Grant sat up.
Vincent's head spun. He was embarrassed. God, he should've stayed home.
"Hello, Grant.." He seemed less angry than usual.
"Why are you here?" He was confused, since they were supposed to be enemies or whatever.
"I.. don't know."
"What day is it?" He looked around the room.
"Uh.. tuesday." He stumbled, "the twelfth."
"WHAT?? HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN OUT?? HAVE I MISSED WORK??" He tried to get out of the bed, but Vincent got up and laid him back down.
"Like, 4 days, I think. You have 3 days left, not, not to live, uh.." All the questions confused him. "you missed 2 days so far, um.. any other questions? Just.. not too many at once." He seemed so calm, it was odd to Grant.
"Why are you all ... not you?"
"Uh.. medicine." He rubbed his hands on his jeans.
"Why didn't you come the first 4 days?"
"I did yesterday, I think.. you were asleep." He looked out the window. He wanted to avoid the question, and Grant could tell through the morphine, "but.. I guess I was just afraid."
"How long are you going to be here, Vincent?" He asked, groggily.
"I just," he thought about how to say the words, "I needed to make sure you're okay. I'll go, if you want."
"No, uh.. stay." He held Vincent's hand. "It's okay."
Vincent was a little shocked by the response, but stayed.
"Uhm, what do we talk about.."
"I dunno, guess it's nicer to have someone," he said, "even if it's your enemy."
Vincent laughed, embarrassed.
"I, uh.. I guess, If you'd like, I could explain that a little further..?" He really didn't, since he just wanted to get out of this room, but he knew it was a nice thing to do, considering what he'd said to Grant previously.
"Oh, yeah, go ahead." Grant listened.
"So, uh," he thought, "I have disruptive mood deregulation disorder. It's.." he paused, trying to remember what the woman told him, "Basically, take how I was, and that's just DMDD. It also was probably worsened by the very obvious autism.. Oh, and the fact my parents raised me like that.. and maybe some other stuff." He cringed, and went back to staring out of the hospital window.
"Oh.." Grant, too, thought for a moment. "I mean, it makes sense now that you've explained it," Vincent looked at him, "it doesn't entirely excuse what you did, but, it does give a little more reason."
"There's, um, another thing."
"Oh?"
"I have," Vincent prepared for the worst rejection of his life. "a ... crush on you."
"Oh... um," Grant processed, the morphine obviously deterring him from having a coherent thought, "that was unexpected."

"And that's the story of how I got hyper fixated on cows!" Vincent spoke, seeming happier than previously. "It's ...nice having this. Usually I'd tell Stephen stuff about cows, but he kinda knows everything now."
"Well, I think that's very cute." Grant smiled at him, holding Vincent's hands.
Vincent pulled away, embarrassed at the sudden contact and pet name.
"T-The nurses, uh—," he watched the microwave boy carefully, "I think I've overstayed," he said, getting off the bed carefully, stepping away, "I don't want ta get inta trouble, y'know?" The country in him became more prevalent as he got more anxious.
"No, I'm sure you'd be okay, Vincent." he whispered, already missing him. His loopiness from the morphine made him more touchy.
"I just, I dunno, Grant.. um, sorry, I just.." He speed-walked out, ditching Grant.
Vincent ran to his truck. He hopped into the front seat quickly, his thoughts racing.
"God he probably thinks I hate him again. I should have just told him—"
His phone vibrated. He picked it up, and it was Grant.
"hhi vhincentyyou. ranbefore i coilds tell yoiu. iii lov yuoooo 💞💞💕💘💘💝💝💘💘💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💝💘💘💘💘💘💘💞💞🤎💕💕💘💝💘💘💝💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💕💕💕💕💞💓💓💓💕💖💘💖💕💕💓❤️" And an image attached:

Vincent started kicking his feet around in his truck. He hit his thighs with his hands, and squealed. He accidentally hit the horn, and it surprised him.
"UHM DOES. THAT MEAN what I TJINK IT MEANS" He quickly responded.
"yeahahhhhehheheee : )"
Vincent hit the horn by accident again.
"stop hhittinhwyour horn"
"SORRYIM EXCIGED"
"in wwt wY; )"
Vincent hit the horn twice this time by accident.
"i heardthat "
"OK I HAVE TO DRIVE HOME PLEASE DONOT MAKE ME CRASH"
"i will try cowboy"
Vincent hit the horn a final time, and drove off.