The night stretched thin inside the hospital.
It wasn't silent—not truly. Machines hummed. Footsteps passed beyond closed doors. Somewhere down the hall, a nurse laughed softly, the sound startling in its normalcy.
But in Vinny's room, time seemed to move differently.
Matthew sat beside the bed, still holding Vinny's hand as if letting go would cause something terrible to happen. Vinny slept now, deeply, his breathing slow and even. His lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks, bruises still blooming beneath his skin like dark constellations Matthew wished he could erase with his bare hands.
Matthew hadn't moved in hours.
Every so often, he brushed his thumb gently across Vinny's knuckles—counting the rhythm of his breath, grounding himself in the fact that Vinny was alive. Here. Warm.
Safe.
For now.
A soft knock came at the door.
Matthew didn't look up. He already knew who it was.
