My mom wasn't as much of a mess as I had been expecting. Instead of providing me any solace, for some reason, it scared me. It made me realize how numb to the fear she had become, how used to the feeling that she could lose a loved one she was.

She wore an expression of pure exhaust; dark circles under her swollen eyes, wrapped tightly in her cardigan, and holding herself with her arms. When I saw her, I immediately realized that I couldn't crumble. I had to hold it together and be with her instead of leaving her alone.

"What happened?" I ask her the second I see her.

Jane had explained to me what happened in the car ride toward home. When my mother couldn't get ahold of me, she called Jane to reach me. Danny was sitting at home with her when he suddenly experienced such an intense pain that he couldn't breathe and rendered him faint, which made him collapse.

His condition is worsening, my mom had told Jane, and she told me now. Things aren't looking good.

He was in emergency surgery and no, we couldn't see him. No, we don't know how long he will be in there for. No, his chances aren't in his favor. She answered all of my questions in the same heartbroken tone, just soft enough for me to decipher what she said.

We sat in the waiting room for hours. After the first two, Jane informed me that she had to drive back to school, because she had a flight to her aunts house in the afternoon tomorrow. She held me so tightly that I was momentarily worried that my back would break, but then she let go, and I was alone with my mom again.

After another hour, my mom excused herself to go get coffee.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I ask eagerly, my voice hoarse from the lack of conversation between us.

She stood up and pulled her cardigan around herself. "No, I need to be alone for a little while, sweetie. Are you okay up here by yourself?"

I understood the feeling of needing to be alone. I hadn't shed a single tear since arriving, solely for the sake of trying to keep my hopes and my mothers sanity alive. I desperately wanted to let all of the tears fall without her seeing, so without giving it much thought past my selfishness, I nodded.

"I'll be okay," I tell her.

She nods once and walks off slowly. The second her figure disappeared around the corner, the floodgates collapsed, and I broke down into my own hands. I drew my knees to my chest while sitting in the chair and crossed my arms around them, then slowly lowered my own face so that nobody could see the tears fall.

My back shook with each ragged breath I drew as I wondered if this was the end of Danny's journey. He was too young to have been through so many treatment rotations, doctors and nurses, hospital beds, and pain. He was robbed of his childhood, and this is how fate was deciding to repay him for all of his suffering.

Sometime between cursing the way the world works and sobbing into my knees, I cried myself to sleep on the waiting room chair. When I finally did wake up, it was to a hand being placed on the top of my back, rubbing back and forth gently. I vaguely heard someone call my name while I was coming to, but when memories of the day flooded back to me, I lifted my head eagerly, expecting to meet my mothers gaze.

Instead, I was met with the ocean of worry in Vincent's eyes.

"Vince?" I ask groggily, my eyebrows drawn together in pure confusion as I stretch my legs. "What are you doing here?"

He slowly lowers himself into the seat next to me as his eyes scan my face, darkening a little at what he found. Vincent lifts his hand gingerly to my face and wipes under my eyes and my cheeks gently, and I involuntarily lean into his touch and close my eyes. Somehow, some sense of calm settled within me.

"You were crying," Vincent murmurs, and I realize he was likely wiping away the remnants of mascara staining my cheeks. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

The words themselves strike a chord within me, but it was the emotion behind them that forced my eyes back open. Vincent was staring at me with an intensity I had only seen a handful of times before, and I felt pinned by his gaze. As he starts pulling his hand away, I grab it with my own hands and hold it on my lap.

"Don't apologize," I tell him seriously. "You had your game. I understand how important it was to you--"

He shakes his head, "You're more important to me than a stupid game, Lily."

At this, my heart flips in my chest. The 'stupid game' he was referring to was basically his entire life. And somehow, he said found me more important than that.

His eyes search mine for a long moment, and I'm caught by his gaze. The realization that he had come all this way just for me finally sank in, and I squeezed his hands tighter.

My eyes flicker down to his attire, and I realize that he was still clad in his dry-fit black shirt and dirt stained white football pants.

"I came right when the game ended," Vincent tells me as I assess his clothing. "I took my pads off and went straight to my car. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

I was too tired to tell him again that he didn't have to come sooner. I decided that we would talk about that later. All I cared about was that he was here now. So instead of talking, I decided to appreciate the fact that he was here. I slowly dropped my head to his shoulder and slumped into my chair until I was comfortable, and released one of his hands, but held the other tightly on my lap.

His thumb rubbed back and forth on the back of my hand while he held it. I kept my gaze trained on our hands sitting in my lap, the ginger way that he tried to comfort me, and listened to the way that his heart was beating erratically beneath his shirt. Eventually, my eyes slid shut again, and I took a deep inhale while I tried to keep my mind off of the operating room and Danny.

I'm not sure how many hours passed before I heard a deep and unrecognizable voice question, "Vincent?"

My eyes opened slowly as I feel Vincent shift underneath me, and he gently moves me so that I'm leaning against the chair instead of him. I hear him get up before my eyes fully adjust, and I see him walking toward an older, more distinguished version of himself.

"What are you doing here?" Vincent asks, his voice thick with shock and an unexpected emotion.

Vincent's father had a few inches on Vince, but the same build. He looked athletic, even as an older man, and had well-kept stubble on the lower half of his face. His eyes looked grey as they shifted from his son to me, but not in an unfriendly manner.

"I could ask you the same thing," His father fires back in a very Vincent-fashion. It quickly showed me where Vince gets his confidence and authoritative demeanor from. But it wasn't until his gaze slid from his son to me one more time before the corners of his lips twitched upward and he set his all-knowing gaze back onto his son that I was positive they were cut from the same cloth. "But I think I may have figured it out."

In an attempt to regain my full, wide awake composure, I quickly stand and extend my hand to him and offer the best smile I can muster (which wasn't much). "Hi, Mr. Bradshaw, I'm Lily."

"Call me Dean," He insists with a curt but kind smile as he shakes my hand. "I'm here to scrub in for your brothers surgery." When he saw my smile falter, his expression turns more somber. "I just arrived and I'm going to go check the status and scrub in for the remainder of the surgery. I heard that the primary surgeon operating on Danny is very good at what he does."

Hearing these words from a medical professional puts me at ease. Slightly, at least.

"I'm going to do everything I can to help your brother," Dean's voice was thick with promise and glazed with confidence. He reminded me of the boy beside me, holding my hand, and I immediately recognized that Dean was a good man.

"Thank you," I respond quietly, as my body settles into feeling somewhat calm and yet erratically wired all at once.

He nods, his grey eyes shifting to his son and then back at me. "Where's your mother?"

I blink at him as I ask myself the very question, echoing his own words. Last I remembered, she was going to the food court to be by herself... and then I fell asleep. When Dean sees the utterly blank expression on my features, he nods once more, as if reading my thoughts.

"When you find her, tell her that I'm here," The authority in his voice helped the calm feeling overshadow my previously thumping heartbeat.

Dean reaches out and holds Vincent's shoulder for a moment as their gaze connects, and his smile looks almost like an offer to his son. Vincent nods curtly, not looking necessarily displeased, and I feel his hand squeeze mine. It wasn't until that moment that I even realized our hands found each other once more.

It took a few moments of discussing his business with a nurse behind the desk before Dean was out of sight and behind double doors that read STAFF ONLY. I observed Vincent, aware he had been tense when he saw his father, and felt like I was just let into his world a little more. He stared back at me for a long moment before letting out a breath.

"He's going to be okay," Vincent asserts in a contradicting soft tone. "He has the best doctors caring for him."

Truthfully, I responded, "I know." And then I look around the waiting room for a familiar face, but came up short. "Let's go find my mom."

Unsurprisingly, we found her in the cafeteria. She was nursing what she revealed to be her fifth cup of coffee by the time we got there, and I found her sitting by the windows. I told her about my encounter with Dean, and she perked up immediately upon hearing me relay the information.

While we discussed the situation, Vincent went up to the food to gather some items for all of us. She still seemed numb in comparison to what I was expecting... I still wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing. However, soon enough, we were all back to people watching out the window and inside the cafeteria, hoping to find temporary escape from our reality.

As an hour passed, and then another, it felt more and more normal for Vincent to be there. He stayed beside me to keep me occupied and distracted, to even draw out the occasional smile. For some reason, it seemed commonplace that he be there for me at my most vulnerable moment.

It wasn't until my mom had convinced me to drive home with Vincent to shower and change that I had another moment alone with the boy himself. Since I saw him in the waiting room, I wanted to address the fact that he was here for me, but the time never felt right. But finally, when we stepped foot inside my house, I felt the words bubble up my throat.

"Why did you come all the way here?" I ask bluntly the second that I shut the front door, but hesitate before turning around to face Vincent.

When I do turn around, he's already moving closer. "For you," He answers simply.

I shake my head and take a half step back before my heel kicks the front door, and I realize that there's nowhere for me to go. He stops moving with a few feet between us and watches me curiously.

"Why, though?" I try again, my voice still holding the same faux confidence. "You drove all the way here directly after your first game back in weeks."

Now, his brow furrows. "I told you. You're more important than a stupid game."

He was still speaking calmly, but at this point, I feel my heart speed up as I shake my head. "Football isn't a stupid game to you."

"It is in comparison to you," Vincent answers seriously. At his words, I freeze and stare, somehow unable to even breathe out of fear for missing his next words. "It's obvious what's important here, don't you think?"

The mild condescension in his voice was purely playful but, nonetheless, sparked my own sassiness. "Why don't you spell it out for me?"

He smirks, a sight I didn't realize I had missed so much, and I feel my heart warm for him. "I know you feel it too," Vincent says lowly as he takes a step forward, his voice suddenly much huskier. "How good we are together," Another step, until he's only a foot away. "You and I just make sense."

While I was already overwhelmed and exhausted from the way things had gone today, I welcomed the heart-racing distraction that Vincent was providing me. Even though his words were nearly sending shivers of anticipation down my spine, I still pushed back.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad about staying at the game," I tell him seriously, referring to when I had been leaving. I was so caught up in my own emotions that I was too curt with him and I didn't want him to mistake that with anger or disappointment. "I just want you to know that."

He watches me for a moment, probably waiting for me to address the things he had said to me moments before, but I kept my mouth shut. My heartbeat was thumping in my ears so loudly that I couldn't focus on my thoughts long enough to form a coherent response to his claim that we just make sense.

After a few moments pass, Vincent takes one last small step forward and reaches his hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I keep my gaze focused on him, observing the way his eyes scanned my features slowly before meeting my gaze again.

"I know you have a lot to deal with right now," He says slowly, his voice low and full of emotion. "But I want you to know that I'll be here for you."

I stare at him in awe. His cool eyes flicker between mine as his chest rises and falls with his breaths, his closeness making my entire body feel like it's on fire.

"I'm not going anywhere." Vincent finally promises.