The car hummed softly as it glided through the darkened streets, the headlights cutting through the night. Inside, the silence was thick, almost suffocating, broken only by the occasional sound of tires on the wet asphalt. Skyler stared ahead, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were pale. His shirt, still damp and heavy with Fain's blood, clung to him uncomfortably, but he didn't seem to notice. His mind was elsewhere—on Ocean, lying fragile and hurt in a hospital bed, on the pain that still raged inside him, a storm that hadn't yet settled.
Beside him, Day sat quietly, his gaze distant as he stared out the window. He had been a silent companion throughout it all, watching as his brother unleashed a fury that had been simmering for too long. And now, as they drove toward the hospital where Ocean's fate hung in the balance, Day knew his brother needed more than silence. He needed to breathe.
"Sky," Day's voice cut through the stillness, calm and steady as always. Skyler didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Day sighed, sitting up a little straighter, his expression softening. "You need to change."
For a moment, Skyler remained silent, as if the words hadn't registered. But then he blinked, glancing down at himself, at the dark stains of blood smeared across his shirt, drying in jagged patches. The sight of it brought back flashes of the dungeon, of Fain's ruined face beneath his fists, the taste of rage still bitter on his tongue.
"You can't go in like that," Day continued gently, though his tone left no room for argument. "Ocean needs you, not the blood you shed for him."
Skyler's grip on the wheel loosened slightly, and he exhaled, his breath shaky and uneven. He pulled the car to the side of the road, where the shadows of the night crept up against the curb. Without a word, he got out, opening the trunk where a change of clothes lay in wait, the foresight of his brother who had always thought ahead, even in times of chaos.
Day remained in the car, watching his brother through the rearview mirror. Skyler stood in the cold night, his figure illuminated by the car's brake lights, a silhouette of a man whose heart was unraveling. Slowly, deliberately, Skyler removed the bloodstained shirt, tossing it aside, his movements mechanical. The night air kissed his bare skin, cool against the heat of his anger that had yet to fade completely. He put on a clean shirt—simple, black, and unremarkable—but it felt lighter, a small reprieve from the weight the quiet glance Day offered, a silent bond between brothers that needed no explanation. They both knew the storm had not passed—Skyler's fury simmered just beneath the surface—but for now, the urgency was elsewhere.
As they pulled up to the hospital, the sterile lights of the building cast long shadows across the pavement. Skyler's heart raced as he parked, the echoes of their earlier confrontation with Fain still throbbing in his mind. The images of Ocean lying there, hurt and vulnerable, pushed all other thoughts away.
Once inside, they walked through the hospital hallways, each step echoing in the quiet, sterile corridors. Skyler's hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, clenched into fists. The blood had been washed off, but the memory of it lingered, staining him in ways that water couldn't cleanse. His jaw was tight as they approached the ICU, his gaze flicking toward the large windows that offered a view into the room.
There, beyond the glass, lay Ocean. His delicate form was almost lost under the sheets, bandaged and hooked up to machines that beeped softly in the background. Skyler stopped, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, everything stilled. The rage, the violence—it all quieted in the face of Ocean's fragile state.
Day watched his brother carefully, his own emotions tucked neatly away behind the usual stoic mask he wore. But there was something in the way his gaze softened as he looked at Skyler, in the way his hand briefly touched his brother's shoulder—a silent reassurance that he was there.
"He's stable," Day said softly, breaking the silence. "The doctors did everything they could."
Skyler didn't respond, his eyes fixed on Ocean, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He could feel the fury stirring again, the helplessness clawing at him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had sworn to protect Ocean, to keep him safe, and yet here they were.
Day leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he observed his brother in silence. He knew Skyler well enough to recognize the battle raging within him. The anger hadn't dissipated; it had simply shifted focus. And Day knew where that would lead. It always led to the same place.
"You did what you had to do," Day said quietly, his voice calm but firm. "But now you need to be here. For him."
Skyler turned to look at his brother, his eyes dark, burning with emotions that he couldn't name. "I can't just stand here and do nothing," he whispered, the frustration evident in his voice. "I need to—"
"You've done enough," Day interrupted, his tone more forceful now. "This isn't about revenge. Not anymore. You nearly killed that bastard, and trust me, he'll get what's coming to him. But Ocean needs you right now. Not the version of you that's out for blood."
Skyler flinched at his brother's words, his gaze flickering back to Ocean. He had always been the protector, the one who handled things with force if necessary. But this? Watching Ocean so fragile and still? It broke something inside him.
"I should have been there," Skyler said, his voice cracking, barely more than a whisper.
Day sighed, stepping closer, placing a hand on Skyler's shoulder. "You couldn't have known," he replied. "But you're here now. That's what matters."
They stood in silence for a moment, both watching Ocean through the glass. The machines beeped softly, a cruel reminder of how fragile life could be.
After a long pause, Day spoke again, his voice softer. "We'll find out who else was involved. I promise. But don't lose yourself to this, Sky."
Skyler nodded, though the fire still burned within him. He knew his brother was right, but the need for vengeance still simmered, a beast in his chest that wouldn't be quieted so easily. But for now, all he could do was watch over Ocean, pray that he would wake up soon, and be there when he did.
"I'm not going anywhere," Skyler finally said, his voice low but resolute. "I'll be here. For him."
Day gave him a small nod, understanding and approval in his eyes. "Good. That's all he needs right now."
As the night wore on, they took turns keeping vigil. Skyler didn't move from his spot near the glass, his eyes never leaving Ocean's still form. Day stayed nearby, silent and watchful, his presence a steady anchor amidst the turmoil.
It was in the stillness of those long hours that Skyler realized something: no amount of violence, no amount of vengeance, could heal the wounds that Ocean carried. Only love, only presence, only care could.
And so he waited. Not as a man of fury or revenge, but as someone who loved Ocean with every fractured, angry piece of himself. And that, for now, would have to be enough.
TBC. 🩵
