**Colby and Tanzie Byers**
Colby
"Is she gonna die?" Luke asks in between muffled sniffles.
Throughout the ride to the hospital, he remained composed, probably due to Wyatt's presence. My heart is breaking just hearing him voice the question, but what hurts even more is the fact that I'm not sure what to tell him.
"I don't know," I reply honestly. I know we're losing her, and it wouldn't be fair to give him the false hope that I've clung to, only to have him learn the truth when she leaves us.
I pull him against me, draping my arm over his shoulders. He's growing up so quickly, but right now as the tears roll silently down his cheeks, he's still my baby brother. I feel like I've failed him. I've been so preoccupied with my own life, my own grief, that I haven't taken the time to make sure he's okay. He's been completely alone.
The stark white walls of this waiting room are enough to drive a person out of their mind. The sterile scent of alcohol, bleach, and citrus invades my senses, making this wait that much more agonizing. Wyatt dropped us off in front of the building, still scouring the congested lot for parking. Knowing that there's so little parking available enhances the ache already throbbing in my chest. We're not the only distraught people here.
"I'm sorry I haven't been around a lot," I begin. Luke pulls away, sitting up straight. He swipes the wetness from his face with the sleeve of his shirt, offering me a sad smile.
"I don't need a babysitter, B," he grunts, sitting on his hands. "Besides, I had Wyatt."
Luke must see the confusion as it strikes me because he doesn't wait for me to ask what he means by that.
"Alex... forgot to take me to my baseball game a couple seasons back, so I asked Wyatt for a ride," he explains. "He still comes to most of 'em, but if he can't make it, Mrs. Matheson comes."
I'm not at all surprised that Wyatt would step up for Luke, but I wish he hadn't had to.
"I come to some of your games," I say, somewhat defensively. "I've never seen him there." At least I'm not a completely absent sister.
He chuckles, and I furrow my brow. "What? I'm serious!" I assert.
"I know," he laughs, and it's nice to see him happy, even if it is at my expense. "Wyatt was at those too, he just didn't want you to see him."
Whenever I feel it's impossible to fall harder for Wyatt, he proves me wrong. Without hesitation, he would sacrifice his life if it meant he could save someone from their own struggle. I take a deep breath, looking Luke in the eye. He smirks, and I giggle.
"I'm still sorry that it had to be him there supporting you," I say.
"He's more fun than you anyway," he laughs, waggling his eyebrows at me. "He told me that you finally figured out you couldn't live without him."
I smack his arm. "He said that, huh?" I demand. "How do you know it's not the other way around?"
His laughter increases, and he puts a consolatory hand on my knee. "We both know the guy," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.
I nod, smiling at my goofy brother. Wow, how I've missed him...
The elevator chimes as its doors slide open and Wyatt emerges, still pale and sparkling from tonight's festivities.
"Shit, Wyatt," Luke says, cringing. "I thought you were taking so long 'cause you wiped that crap off in the bathroom or something. You got rid of the only cool part," he adds, referring to Wyatt's missing crimson contact lenses and purple-stained mouth.
I'm taken aback by his language and stifle my giggle. I see the ways Wyatt's left his mark on Luke. He sounds just like him.
"Go get us all some hot chocolate, punk," Wyatt says gamely.
Luke stands immediately, high-fiving Wyatt as he makes his way to the free beverage counter in the corner.
Wyatt takes the seat beside me, reaching for my hand. With our fingers intertwined, I feel peace wash over me. I rest my head on his shoulder, and he gently glides his fingers up and down the length of my forearm with his free hand.
"I didn't know you hang out with Luke," I say, watching my brother prepare three styrofoam cups of cocoa.
"We may have broken up, but that didn't mean I stopped caring about the rest of your family. Or you, for that matter," he says quietly. "He's a good kid, and when Alex started getting so messed up, I felt like he might need me. I always wanted a brother anyway." He tenses with the mentioning of Alex, and I know that seeing the path he's chosen bothers Wyatt as much as it does me. They were like brothers.
"I tried calling Alex, but his phone went straight to voicemail, and my dad's not picking up either," I say, lifting my head to look at him. "Thank you for being here with us. I don't think we could handle it without you."
He shakes his head, tipping my chin toward him and softly pressing his lips to mine. He pulls away, brushing his nose across the tip of my own. "You're stronger than you think, B," he says firmly. "Any word on Tanzie?"
"Not yet," I say, shaking my head. "I don't know if there's even much to tell us, really."
Wyatt nods, remaining silent. His eyes are dark, with one still swollen and discolored from the blow it took earlier. Whatever he's thinking is something he's not willing to articulate just yet. He's always measured.
Luke takes cautious steps over to us, balancing three hot chocolates in his hands. We each take one, nursing them in silence.
"Excuse me," Wyatt says after a few moments. He takes several strides down the cold hallway, retrieving his phone from his pocket.
"I wonder when they'll let us see her," Luke mutters. He stares at the floor, undoubtedly feeling as miserable as I do.
"I really thought she was dying," he confesses, catching me off guard with his candor. "There was this sound in her throat as she was trying to breathe. It was like... like there was a rattle in there, going crazy every time she tried to get some air."
This is new to me. I haven't heard anything of the sort when I've gone to see her, and this development has me uneasy. I know Luke can sense my tension, but he doesn't acknowledge it.
"You did the right thing by calling the ambulance," I say, reassuring him. He nods, punching the inside of his left hand with his right, repeatedly.
Wyatt is still out of earshot, but he's pacing back and forth with his phone up to his ear. My phone rings as my eyes follow Wyatt's steps. I retrieve my phone, finding Wynona's image on the screen.
"Hey," I answer, and she immediately jumps in with concerned sentiments.
"I haven't even asked how she's been, and I feel awful," she spews, and I hear the tears behind her words. "Should I come to the hospital? I don't mind at all."
"No, you don't need to do that," I reply. She's more dramatic than I am, especially now, and I think this is something we need to face on our own. "We haven't gotten any updates, but I'll let you know once we know something. I gotta go," I say, hanging up as my dad steps out of the elevator. I hadn't even noticed it open.
I'm about to approach him, but Wyatt beats me to it, walking directly up to him and planting himself between my father and Luke and me.
"What in the hell kind of idiot shows up to the hospital covered in sparkles?" Dad spits, eyeing Wyatt.
I'm at a loss for words. I know the situation is stressful, but there's no reason for him to lash out at Wyatt, the only person who's been going out of his way for us all night.
"The kind of guy who loves your family more than you can be bothered to," Wyatt responds coolly, his eyes blazing with disdain. His words sting with the truth they bear.
Dad scoffs at Wyatt, pushing his way past him. "You're dismissed, young man," he says with a wave of his hand. "I thought we'd be rid of you by now."
Wyatt's angry and fiercely protective when he returns to my side. "I'm not going anywhere until they ask me to leave," he says, nodding over to my brother and me. "I hope all of my phone calls didn't interrupt your night on the town. The drinks must've been pretty good," he adds venomously.
My father stops mere inches from Wyatt, and I understand Wyatt's last remark more clearly. Dad reeks of alcohol, and my heart breaks, knowing he ignored our calls for most of the night. At least until it suited him to show up for us.
"You listen here, Wyatt," he begins harshly. "Just because Rick had a soft spot for your family doesn't mean I do, and it certainly doesn't mean that I give a damn what you think about me."
"Daddy," I interrupt. "He just brought us here. He's worried like the rest of us."
They both glance over to me as if they'd forgotten Luke and I were even here. Luke watches wide-eyed at the scene playing out before us.
Dad sighs, taking a step away from Wyatt and giving him a look of warning. No doubt this situation escalated more quickly due to all the alcohol he consumed, but now is not the time to be throwing down.
A nurse walks swiftly in our direction, breaking some of the thick tension between us. Finally, an update I hope. "If you all would follow me," she chirps, addressing the four of us. "The doctor would like a word. Mrs. Byers is stable, but Doctor Phillips would like to explain her condition to you."
"Go on," Wyatt says. "I'll be right here for you." He takes up residence in the waiting room, watching as my father, Luke and I follow the nurse away from him.
We enter the room, seeing my mama for the first time since she arrived here. She's fast asleep. The soft humming of machines echoes through the small space. Mama is hooked up to two different bags of liquids, with chords and tubes of all colors and sizes surrounding her.
A sob escapes Luke at the sight of her, and now I hear the sound he described earlier. With every intake of breath, the air catches in her throat, rattling quietly. It makes me sick to my stomach when I listen to it. The thought of her struggling in any manner does.
Doctor Phillips introduces himself to us, shaking each of our hands.
"I wish we were meeting under better circumstances," he begins. His tone is somber and distant to me, but no doctor can like this part of their job. "With her immune system function being as minimal as it is at this stage of her condition, pneumonia is quite common in patients. Unfortunately, because her body is so unresponsive to treatment, there's little we can do to correct it." He peeks at his clipboard, tucking a pen into his pocket.
"That's it?" I say, incredulous. "We just wait then?" The tears are already streaming from my eyes, and Luke takes my hand in his, squeezing it tightly. Dad flashes me a sympathetic look, and I can't help but wonder how this is affecting him.
"What's our next move then?" Dad asks.
The sound of Mama's machines fills the room out of nowhere, with beeps and chimes in varying degrees of loud, causing my heart to jump in time along with them in urgency.
"We need you to leave the room," Doctor Phillips states with maddening calm, waving the two nearest nurses into the crowded space. "We will bring you back once we have the situation under control, but for now you need to head back to the waiting area."
We step out obediently, and my emotions take hold of me. I lean my back against the wall as Dad and Luke continue on their path toward the stiff couches and chairs.
I weep into my hands, sinking to the ground.
This could be it.
Footsteps trudge toward me, and a moment later I feel him next to me. Wyatt pulls me into him, weaving his fingers through my hair as he rocks me, holding me tightly. He whispers something almost inaudibly. His words are soothing, and my desperation fades.
He's praying. Goodness knows we all need it.