I sat in the waiting room of Llandudno hospital, staring at the aggravatingly white walls. Footsteps echoed around the corridors three times at least and the only footsteps I could hear were mine.
I just wanted to be let into the ward, that was all. I just wanted to be next to Van, that was all.
I buried my head in my hands, praying to see Van's face, to know whether they are ok. And I knew that Van wanted to know if their were ok.
I saw Van come round the corner, talking quietly with a doctor. Van was supposed to be the only one who could know about his parents condition after they were severely hurt in the fire at the B & B, but he had asked the doctor to speak to me too.
The doctor told us that they were in intensive care, and that we couldn't go and see them yet. We signed some shit and the doctor left us to be alone for a moment. That's when Van snapped.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" He exclaimed, head in hands, pulling at his hair.
"Van," I said, trying to calm him down, or at least trying to get some sense into him.
"No, no, no! Ohmygodohmygod, they're not ok!"
"Van!" I shouted, stopping his wild, blind panic, my voice echoing around the room.
"I'm sorry, I just," Van said, before shattering into a million precious little pieces. I pulled him into a tight hug as he sobbed into my shoulder, his hand gripped mind, and tears fell from our eyes, cries echoing around the white walls.
By now the hospital was empty, patients hidden away in their wards, doctors at home; even the receptionists had left.
Ten minutes passed in silence when the slamming shut of the hospital doors could be heard, three floors below. The nervous chatter of what sounded like a group of rowdy school boys smashed the silence like a brick to glass.
"Shit mate, this place is huge, we're never going to find him!" A squeaky voice exclaimed. Van's head snapped up to attention, and he frowned a little.
"Larry?" Van called out, listening as the footsteps of the boys stopped.
"Van, lid, where are yous?" The voice called Larry shouted back.
Van gave them directions and a moment later, four worried faces popped round the corner, smiles of concern tugging at the corner of their mouths. Van stood up to greet them, before realising that he still had his hand interlocked with mine. Instead of letting go, he smiled sadly at me, and I stood up too.
"Hey Van, we heard about the fire, sorry we couldn't come earlier," a guy said with a frizzy Afro, stepping forwards to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"Thanks guys, it's late, I dunno how late, but I know it's late, thanks for comin' down," Van said, nodding his thanks.
"Of course we came down, not gonna leave you after that's happened," a guy with a hat on said.
"Yeah man," a guy with glasses said.
"Anyway, who's your friend?" A short guy said, I soon recognised his voice to be Larry, the famous Larry from Van's stories. That meant that the lad with the glasses was Bob, the drummer, the guy with the hat was Bondy and the lad with the Afro was Benji.
I recognised them by the stories Van had told me. I recognised Bob as the guy who walked into a tree and broke his glasses, I recognised Bondy as the lad who lost his hat and spent a week looking for it before finding it in his bed and I recognised Benji as the guy who tripped over his bass lead during a gig.
"Oh yeah, this is Isabelle, we met at the record shop the other day." Van talked them through the things that we did, and how he was going to bring us to their band practice tomorrow.
"Isabelle, this is the famous Benji, Bondy, Larry and Bob," Van said with a dramatic hand gesture, cheering up a bit. They gave a wave in turn, and sat down, Bondy wandering off to try and get us some food. We were in a heated discussion about Pokemon, when a doctor appeared out of nowhere and told us to come into Bernard and Mary McCann's hospital ward.
