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[brookesmart]

Yorick sleeps through the night, the morning, the afternoon, and at present is just about to reach the second evening without waking up once. There's been not a murmur from him, not a snort or a snore, and for Yorick that much silence all but means death. It doesn't matter how loudly Brooke shouts, or how sharply falls the flat of her palm

Comments

[ilovemykilt]

The thing is, he can't even argue the point. She's right, it's sick and it sucks and he can't make it any better. For Yorick, who Priestly has to keep reminding himself isn't dead, or for Brooke who's been carrying enough loss on her shoulders lately already.

"They say he's going to be fine," he says. "They say this has happened before."

But it doesn't help him feel much better, so he's pretty sure it's not going to help Brooke either.

[brookesmart]

Brooke pokes her finger into Yorick's cheek as hard as she can. "How can this just happen?" She stalks around the bed to try throwing her hands into the air on the other side for a change. "How can it just do this? And what if nobody comes out of it this time? It could be permanent!"

She chokes up all at once at that thought, at loud, obnoxious, charming Yorick still and silent forever. Brooke's hands fly to her mouth with a hitching sob, but the words won't go back in.

[ilovemykilt]

"Nothing here is ever permanent," says Priestly, but it comes out more bitterly than hopefully. "I mean, isn't that the problem? It's hard to count on anything around here. Which at least means that this won't be permanent too."

[brookesmart]

With her hands still clamped tight over her mouth, Brooke nods. "You're right," she says, moving further around the bed until she's at his side. "Of course, you're right." Brooke puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm freaking out."