It had been a week. A week. And Hesh wasn't feeling any better.

He stared out the window of his hospital room with a frown, watching the sunset with disinterest. The fluorescent lights flicker slightly, buzzing far too loud in the quiet room. They flickered every fifteen minutes–he timed it.

He didn't look up when you entered, his dinner tray in your hands. The new tray clanged softly against the edge of the one from lunch. Untouched. He could hardly stomach anything knowing Logan was missing. Somehow, the room felt even smaller with you in it.