The rain hadn't stopped.
It fell steadily against the pavement outside the hospital, each drop blending into the next like the night hadn't decided whether it was over yet. Miles sat on the cold metal bench just outside the emergency entrance, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them. His tux jacket was gone—left behind somewhere at the school—and his shirt clung damply to his skin. He didn't shiver.
He just stared, at nothing. The way the red ambulance lights still flickered faintly in his vision, even though it had been over an hour since they arrived. Chelsea sat beside him, not touching him this time. Not because she didn't want to. But because she could tell he needed space to feel this. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers curled into the sleeves of her sweater. Every now and then, she glanced at him—checking, making sure he was still… there. He hadn't said a word since they got there. Inside the hospital, the waiting room was quieter than it should've been. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every small sound feel too loud.
A chair scraping, a cough, a distant intercom announcement. Naya sat across from Shane. Or… near him, at least. Not close enough to be considered "together," but not far enough to pretend she didn't care. Her hands were wrapped in fresh bandages, faint spots of red seeping through in places where the cuts reopened earlier. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes stayed fixed on Shane, who hadn't moved much, not since the paramedics took Anny into surgery. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly together that his knuckles had gone pale beneath the dried blood that still stained his skin. Someone had tried to get him to wash up. He refused. "I'm not… leaving her like this," he had muttered, so they let him stay like that.
Mallory pushed through the hospital doors, slightly out of breath, scanning the waiting area until her eyes landed on Miles outside. She stepped toward him slowly. "Hey…", she says, but there's no response. She crouched slightly in front of him, trying to catch his gaze. "Miles.", she says. His eyes finally shifted just enough to meet hers. And for a second—just a second—she saw it. That hollow look. The same one he had the night everything fell apart with their mom. Her expression softened immediately, as she says "Hey… it's okay. I'm here.". Miles blinked. Once, then twice. Then his shoulders dropped, just a little, as he quietly whispers "…Mal.". His voice was barely there. She reached forward and gently pulled him into a hug. This time, he didn't hesitate. He leaned into it, not desperately. Just… enough.
Back inside, a doctor finally stepped into the waiting room. Everyone stood, but Shane didn't. "…Family of Annabelle Waybright?" the doctor asked. Sam, who had been sitting at the far corner with his head buried in his hands, shot up instantly. "I'm her brother." The doctor nodded, glancing at Shane briefly before continuing. "She's stable.". Shane's head snapped up. "She lost a significant amount of blood," the doctor continued, calm but firm, "but we were able to control the bleeding and repair the damage. She's not out of danger yet, but… she made it through surgery.". Shane's breath hitched, for a moment, he didn't move. Then his head dropped forward as a shaky laugh escaped him—half relief, half disbelief. "…She's… okay…"
Not fully, but alive. And that was enough. Sam didn't look relieved, he looked destroyed. "…Can I see her?" he asked, voice cracking, but "Not yet," the doctor replied. "We'll call you when she's ready for visitors.". Sam nodded numbly. Then turned, and saw Shane. The room went still again. He stepped forward slowly. One step, then two. Everyone watched. Shane didn't move. Didn't stand, didn't speak. He just looked at Sam—eyes red, face hollow. Sam stopped a few feet in front of him, muttering "…I didn't know," he said. His voice was quieter than anyone expected. "I thought… I thought you hurt her."
Shane didn't respond. Sam swallowed hard, his hands shaking slightly. "I didn't know she still—". He stopped himself, his jaw tightened, "…I messed up.". Shane let out a weak, humorless laugh, saying "…Yeah.". Not angry, not sharp. Just… tired. Sam flinched at it. "I didn't mean for it to go that far," he said quickly. "I just wanted to scare you—". "And now she's in a hospital bed," Shane cut in. Not yelling. Sam had no response. None that mattered. After a moment, Shane looked away. "…Just go.", he says. Sam hesitated. Then nodded, and left. Outside, the rain finally began to lighten.
Miles sat with Chelsea and Mallory in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on him all at once. "…I didn't do anything.". The words slipped out before he could stop them. Chelsea looked at him, "…What?", she asks. "I saw it coming," Miles said, his voice tightening. "I knew something was wrong, I knew those guys were gonna—… and I still didn't—". He cut himself off, clenching his fists. "I just watched." Chelsea's expression softened immediately. "You didn't—", Chelsea says. "I was supposed to help him," Miles continued, his voice rising just slightly. "That's why he asked me to come. He needed me and I—", but Chelsea says "You're not responsible for what they did." Her voice was firm. Not loud, but steady. Miles shook his head, "I keep telling myself that," he said. "But it doesn't feel true.". Chelsea didn't argue this time, because she understood that feeling all too well. Instead, she reached out slowly—carefully—and rested her hand over his. He didn't pull away.
Later, as the night stretched toward morning, the hospital quieted. Chelsea walks to the park, Miles following behind her. She looks back, asking "It's.. getting late. Shouldn't you be..?", but Miles leans on her shoulder, as if knowing the question she was about to ask "I just.. don't feel like being alone tonight..". His voice came out tired. Not whimpering, just exhausted. Chelsea's puts her arm around him, as they walk to the park, eventually finding a bench to sit on.
They sit together, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller, until Miles closes his eyes, his hand still clasped with Chelsea's. They both sleep, as the night starts to give way to the morning light.
Inside, Shane sat alone again, waiting. His hands, still covered in blood that wasn't all his. But this time, His hands weren't shaking as much. And when the nurse finally called his name…
He stood.