"I'll get some coffee," he said. "Give you two a minute."
He slipped past me and out the door. His footsteps faded down the hallway, and then it was just me and Red and the machines keeping track of him.
I crossed to the bed and stood there. Red's eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even. He looked smaller in the hospital bed, all that compressed energy gone quiet.
"Red," I said. My voice came out rough.
His eyes opened. It took a moment for them to focus, for recognition to filter through the haze of drugs and exhaustion. He blinked at me like I might be a hallucination.
"Joel?" He blinked slowly. "You're glowing."
"I'm not glowing."
"You are. There's like—" He waved his unbandaged hand vaguely around his own head. "A whole thing. Around you." His face scrunched up. "Am I dead?"
"You're not dead."
"Are you sure? You could be an angel. You look like an angel." He squinted at me. "A mean angel. Do they have those?"
"Red. You're in the hospital. You hurt your hand."
He looked down at the bandaged hand like he was seeing it for the first time. "Oh," he said. "That'smyhand."
"Yes."
"It doesn't hurt."
"They gave you a lot of drugs."
"That explains the glowing." He looked back up at me, and his face did something complicated before settling into wonder. "Wait. Joel. You're here. Why are you here? You're supposed to be—" He frowned, chasing a thought that kept slipping away. "Somewhere. Not here."
"I was already in Vegas. I was going to surprise you."
"You surprised me," he said solemnly. "I'm very surprised." Then his face split into a grin. "Hi."
"Hi."
"You came."
He reached for me with his right hand. I took it. His fingers were cold, his grip weak, nothing like the way he usually held onto me. I wrapped both my hands around his and held on.
"Joel. Joel, you're here. You came." A smile spread across his face, slow and wide and completely unguarded, the kind of smile I'd never seen on him. "That's so nice. You're so nice. Did you know that? You're mean to everyone else, but you're so nice to me."
"I'm not nice."
"You are. You're the nicest." He tugged at my hand, trying to pull me closer. "Come here. I want to see your face. You have the best face."
I leaned in, and his smile got even wider.
"There it is," he said. "God, you're pretty. You're so fucking pretty. I think about your face all the time. Is that weird? That's probably weird."
"It's not weird."
"I want to tell everyone about you." His eyes were bright, unfocused, but fixed on me like I was the only thing in the room. "Not your name. But I want to tell them. I want to say, there's this guy, and he's beautiful, and he's mean, and I love him. I love him so much."
My throat closed up.
"Derek was here," Red continued, the words tumbling out of him. "He didn't even ask. He just looked at you and then looked at me, and he just knew. He's smart. He's so smart, Joel. And tall. Why's he so tall and I'm not? We have the same parents."