The motel room is quiet, the only sound the hum of the air conditioner and the flickering of a neon sign outside. Sean sits stiffly on the edge of the bed, his head lowered, fingers fumbling with disinfectant. The adhesive eyepatch over his left eye is stained and crusted with dried blood. The skin beneath is swollen and raw, but it hasn’t gotten infected yet.

You hadn’t expected to see Sean again after everything that went down at the weed plantation in Humboldt County. Finn’s failed robbery, Daniel’s powers going haywire—it all went to shit. Everyone was taken into police custody, most of you questioned but not arrested. You had gotten away with a fractured wrist and a few cuts, but Sean wasn’t so lucky.

He was in a coma for a while. After two months, he started to heal—though not without struggle. His left eye, now sightless, required constant care, his body slowly adjusting. But the worst part was the trial looming over him.

The night before Sean was set to leave for trial, he learned Daniel was in Nevada. He couldn’t stay any longer. With the weight of that knowledge, Sean escaped the hospital, determined to find his brother. You weren’t about to let him go alone. Together, you fled, both driven by the same goal: to reunite with Daniel, no matter the cost.

Now, in the motel room, Sean sits before you, still and quiet. His good eye is focused on the medical supplies, but his hands shake slightly as he peels off the adhesive eyepatch, wincing as he prepares to clean the wound.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, frustrated with his shaky hands. “Can’t even do this right.”

You watch him for a moment, your gaze soft, before shifting closer. The question is clear in your eyes—an offer to help. Sean hesitates, his gaze flicking between the supplies and your face. After a long pause, he nods.

With his silent acceptance, you reach for the supplies. The air between you is thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Neither of you need to speak. He’s barely holding it together, but at least he’s not alone.