His shoulders raise marginally and slowly. Guilt, maybe. He was the one who brought Stan’s mother down. But Stan, along with his brothers, wanted to take her and her drug empire apart. They accomplished precisely that.
Despite it, rumors still swirled for the past four months. People wondered if it was a sacrifice or a suicide attempt. The stories differ, depending on who’s telling it. What matters is that Clo’s been in a coma since. It halted Kys operations in the country. Nil survived his comatose state. And now, he and Stan are in this room on this ship.
These are all fascinating factors to study—seeing how this may impact the new formula’s effects on them. Hopefully, what’s to come can be contained in the ship. But what’s the point of hope when I can compile predictions, based on the behavioral patterns they’re currently exhibiting?
“I told ya you had better hair than Sterling,” Stan says, smiling at Nil. “Your sister giggled. Kaye didn’t. Still true, though. The coma didn’t take that from you.”
Nil runs his hand through his auburn locks. It is objectively beautiful hair. Then he mutters a quiet “thanks” again.
Staring at them could take all night, but I’ve collected enough data. So I turn to leave. I’ve done my part, delivering Nil to his quarters, and confirmed the patients are well-informed.
But Stan calls after me. “Hey, Em, don’t go. You’ve got to give my roomie the spiel.”
I stop and slowly pivot back. He’s right. I got distracted yet again. Warmth spreads across my face, though I try to school my features.
Pushing past it, I tell Nil what I told Stan, repeating that assessments start tomorrow, where to find food, what’s expected to be worn for comfort and distinction from staff, and other important matters each subject should know.
But Nil gives me a confused look when I mention that he and Stan will share a room. His brows draw together. “And we’re the only ones sharing a room?”
I tell him what I told Stan earlier, that Damon and Kayla decided this for them.
Stan steps between us. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with them on this one.” He places a hand on Nil’s shoulder. “You’re basically on a respawn timer. Lucky for you, I visited you often enough to know what the hospital did to keep you in good shape.”
Nil’s gaze darts toward him. “But…”
“Butnothing. You needed a few physios to force your legs to move,” Stan says. “I was there. Elle held your hand. I adjusted your pillows. I’m not saying I’m qualified, but I’m like an enthusiastic intern.”
Nil looks like he wants to argue. A fine tremor runs through his fingers before he tucks them into his pockets. The trip from airport to ship, the change in routine, the weight of choice—his body shows all of it.
His exhaustion was visible the moment he arrived. Now that he’s not trying to stand at attention, it’s much more obvious.
Stan notices too. His tone changes slightly. “Look, man,” he says. “You’re not the only one here who got cursed with Kys. But I checked your heart monitor more times than the nurses did. I can keep an eye on you without it being weird.”
“It’s already weird,” Nil whispers.
“Yeah, but it’sourweird.” Stan takes a step back, giving Nil space. “You get your own bed. I don’t snore. I only cry sometimes, and I do it quietly. You’re used to machines watching your vitals. I’m just a hotter, human monitor.”
That at least gets a breath out of Nil that almost resembles a laugh.
Nil’s gaze lowers. His breathing becomes ragged. Fatigue is evident around the eyes from the slight swelling and faint shadows. I realize now that he’s probably upright only through controlled effort. Far too prolonged.
“Whoa, hey.” Stan moves closer. “You shouldn’t be standing this long. Sit, Ocean Eyes. Seriously, sit.”
“I’m fine,” Nil dismisses.
“That wasn’t a suggestion.” Stan puts a hand on Nil’s arm. “I watched your nurses prop you up with pillows and a prayer. Sit down before you fall down.”
Nil resists for a few seconds. Then his legs quiver as he sits on the lower bunk without further argument.
Stan sits beside him, shoulder brushing Nil’s. “Be my roomie, Ocean Eyes,” Stan says.
Nil turns his head to meet Stan’s eyes.
Stan smiles at him. “You just woke up. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Nil’s hands flex at his sides. Then he sighs. “I’m too tired to deal with this,” he admits.
“Perfect,” Stan says with a wider smile. “Then I win by default, Lix—shit, I meantNil.”
