“Oh,” Marco breathed. “Oh, that's—I didn't know it would be?—”
“Beautiful?” Greg smiled.
Marco laughed. It was a wet, startled sound. “Eddie's there. I can see him. He'sthere.”
“Then go to him. Gohome, Marco.”
Marco turned back to Greg. “Thank you. For being here for me.”
“It was my honor.”
Marco let go of Greg's hand.
And then he was gone. Not gone like the body—still and empty in the bed. Gone like a breath released.
The machines flatlined.
Greg stood motionless for amoment, hand still extended toward empty air. Then he lowered it and turned to look at Dustin.
His expression shifted, softened. “Dustin,” he said quietly. “You're…”
Dustin frowned. “What?”
Greg gestured vaguely at his own face.
Dustin raised a hand to his cheek. His fingers came away wet.
What the fuck.
He was crying. He was standing in a dead stranger's hospital room, wearing cheap scrubs, and he wascrying.
He was going to say something to defend himself when he heard footsteps in the hall, closing in.
“Gotta go,” Dustin said, already moving toward the door, swiping at his face with his sleeve. He slipped out just as a nurse rounded the corner at a run. A doctor followed right behind her.
Dustin pressed himself against the wall, head down, letting them rush past. Just another staff member. Nothing to see here.
Greg was beside him, clipboard clutched to his chest once more.
“Outside,” Dustin muttered. “Now.”
The courtyard behind the hospital consisted of a couple of benches, some struggling bushes, and a sad concrete path to stroll along.
Dustin didn't feel like strolling. He sat down on a bench.
Greg sat down next to him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Dustin scrubbed at his face again. The tears had stopped, but he could still feel the tracks they'd left.
He'd come here knowing he might fail. He never thought he'd cry when he did.
Who was Marco to him?
Nobody.
But what he'd just witnessed… It was too much to comprehend without feelingsomething.
