The Foreigner & The Pessimist (malexmale)

28. Zuuro

As I sit beside Lane's bed, watching...waiting...I can't help but feel like the minutes drag on for hours. Like this night is never going to end, and I'll go insane before I ever see him open those beautiful brown eyes again.

And the silence...stars, the silence is deafening. But hospital silence isn't like regular silence. Hospital silence is the beeping and buzzing of machines, the chatter of medical staff down the hall at the nurse's station, endless strings of footsteps, and the pinging of the elevator doors as they open and close over and over again.

It's the muffled sound of the PA system, and the cries of the other patient's loved ones as they're told there's no more to be done; that their mother, or brother, or sister, or father is gone. Dead. Never coming back. It's shouts of pain, and codes, and squeaking wheels.

Its nurses coming in to change Lane's IV, and check vitals, and give polite smiles as they step around me and try to pretend like they don't notice the redness of my eyes. Like they don't know I've had that same vacant look on my face every time they've come in, and that I don't try to pull myself together every time I hear that door click open. Like I'm not just hanging in limbo, waiting for Lane to wake up, or Dr. Edwards to come in and tell us he won't. That the damage was just too great for him to overcome.

Hospital silence is sitting across from Lane's dad – a man who once hated me but now just seems indifferent – and barely speaking a word. Just sitting, and waiting, and hoping.

It's the Holovision screen projected up in the corner, tuned into the news as a reporter stands outside the ruins of the building where the party was being held. The building we just came from. It's listening to her saying that no other part of the city seems to have been affected. That the earthquake seems to have begun and ended within the block. That it was a freak anomaly unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. An anomaly that left people dead, and dozens more injured.

Like Lane. Lane is one of those statistics.

That's what hospital silence is.

Hospital silence torture.

Hospital silence is agony.

Hospital silence is a silence I never want to hear again.

I see movement outside the door and sit up as Dr. Edwards comes in, her face giving nothing away as usual. But she gives me hope. Every time I see her, I feel it. I know I shouldn't, because she's not gonna magically come in here and make Lane better, but still. Still I see her, and I feel hope. I have to. Hope feels like the only thing keeping me going right now.

She offers a smile – the same one the nurses give us - as she steps around Tsubasa to get to Lane. "How're you both holding up?" she asks, still smiling politely.

Terrible. I want to tell her, but I don't. I just stay quiet, because what kind of person answers that question with 'terrible'? The miserable kind. I think to myself. The kind stuck in these rooms, waiting for their loved ones to get better or move on. The ones hanging in limbo.

"As well as can be expected." Tsubasa tells her, forcing a small smile.

She nods; setting her hand on his shoulder comfortingly and giving a squeeze. "You should both go home for a while. Try to get some sleep. Eat. Shower. I'll call you if anything changes."

Go home? Now? Even the thought of being back at the dorms alone...at leaving Lane here...no, no I can't. I won't.

And Lane's dad seems to agree with me. "I'm alright. I don't want him to wake up alone. Not after everything."

Dr. Edwards frowns. "I understand, and as Lane's doctor I can't tell you what to do, but, Tsubasa," she sighs; her indifferent mask cracking just a bit. "As your friend? I know I already explained all of this earlier, but Lane had a serious head trauma. A trauma he lied about, and still wasn't fully recovered from. And now this...he was without oxygen for an unknown period of time. It could have been seconds, or minutes, or more. The truth is, we don't know, and that means if he wakes up, we could be looking at some pretty serious deficits. Deficits that will require you...both of you, to be at your best in order to handle. To help Lane handle. And right now, you're not at your best. So, go home, alright? I'm off now. I'll sit with him until you get back. Just go take care of yourselves."