Lydia

[21]

Months passed and no sign of Finn's awakening occurred. Day by day Lydia grew more and more worried. Her upset emotion becoming a reoccurring expression etched into her face permanently.

Lydia knew she couldn't give up hope.  After all Finn had done for her, the least she could do was believe that he'd eventually get better and come back to her one day.  But as the days past that little piece of hope seemed to dim and blur within the seemingly darkened aurora that recently filled Lydia's state.

"I forgot whether you wanted a large or medium fries so I just got you a large," Dylan snapped Lydia out of her thoughts.  She jumped in her seat, whipping around towards Dylan.

She had been sitting in the same chair outside Finn's hospital room for the past three hours, having come straight from school like she did every single day for months.

"I said medium, but thank you." Lydia gulped, reaching out to grab the bag of food her brother had offered.

"No problem," there was a long pause of Dylan's absently staring at Lydia's furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips seemingly holding in a cry. "So, still no word?" Dylan suddenly asked causing Lydia to turn towards him, her mouth pointed downwards in a frown as she studied his face.

His face was that same stupid look he held every god damn time Lydia saw him.  The expression she hated him making: the look of sympathy.

Lydia hated it.  She felt as if she was being selfish whenever someone gave her that look.  It was Finn who was shot by his own father, and it was Finn who fell into a coma.  It was Finn who hadn't woken up in months and Lydia felt disgusted that people felt bad for her. 

 It wasn't about her.

But Lydia pushed those thoughts aside before focussing her eyes back on the ground, ocassionly stuffing food into her mouth.

Because that's what she did.

She sat and she waited.