The clinic's waiting area was silent, save for the steady ticking of a wall clock. Each tick marked another second since they'd brought Cass in. The air held the familiar sting of antiseptic—a scent Ginny had come to associate with Cass.
It wasn't her first time here with him, nor Lyle's.
Cass seemed to have a permanent spot at the campus clinic.
As they waited for the nurse to finish patching him up, Ginny leaned back against the worn armrest of her chair, stealing a quick glance at Lyle. He sat beside Cass's bed, his face carefully blank, but she noticed the way his jaw clenched, the too-tight set of his shoulders.
An odd, heavy silence hung over them.
Lyle hadn't said a word since they'd arrived.
She wanted to ask if he was okay but held back. Instead, her gaze shifted to Cass, lying still on the exam bed, a dark bruise blooming along his cheekbone, dried blood smudged across his nose. His breathing was steady now, thankfully.
Cass was trouble—that much was no secret. Where Lyle was calm and thoughtful, Cass was... restless, reckless even. His sharp tongue didn't win him any friends on campus, and Ginny had lost count of the times she'd told Lyle to keep an eye on him, to reel him in before something like this happened. But Lyle had always brushed it off, giving her that steady, unshaken look.
Cass stirred slightly, drawing Ginny's focus back to the present.
Lyle leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on Cass. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pair of nail clippers. Without a word, he took Cass's limp hand and began clipping his nails, the faint click breaking the silence. Lyle's movements were careful, methodical, his gaze intent.
Ginny watched quietly, feeling like an outsider in their unspoken world.
She'd noticed this habit for years, but it was her mom who once explained it in that soft, psychologist voice—some kind of shared ritual, an unbreakable habit that both twins observed without fail. Like clockwork, always synchronized.
Lyle didn't speak as he clipped Cass's nails, but Ginny saw the flicker of sadness in his eyes. When he finished, he placed Cass's hand gently back on the bed, his face softening just slightly.
"You're quiet."
Lyle glanced up, his expression guarded, though she caught the barest hint of something—fear, maybe—lingering there.
"Just… worried," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "He acts like nothing gets to him, but... I know he's worried about Mom."
Ginny nodded, leaning forward as well, resting her elbows on her knees.
Cass stirred, his eyes blinking open, hazy with lingering pain. He winced, trying to sit up, but Lyle was there in an instant, pressing a hand to his shoulder.
"Easy, Cass," Lyle said softly, a steady calm in his voice. "You took quite a hit. Just... take it slow."
Cass blinked, focusing, then glared around, irritation flickering over his face as he realized where he was.
"Again?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, maybe if you kept that attitude in check, you wouldn't need to be here so often."
He shot her a withering look, though the corners of his mouth twitched. "And what would life be without a little excitement, Ginny?"
"Excitement?" She raised an eyebrow. "Cass, excitement doesn't mean getting knocked out every other week. It's exhausting."
He shrugged, half-smiling as if it were all a joke only he understood. Lyle reached for a tissue, gently dabbing at the blood on Cass's cheek, his touch careful, almost reverent.
"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Cassian."
Cass scoffed, pulling his head away. "I'm fine, Lysander. It's just a bruise."
Lyle's expression tightened, his voice dropping to a tense whisper. "You're not fine, Cass. You can't just act like this doesn't matter."
A silence settled over them, taut and unyielding. Cass's easy smile faltered, his gaze dropping, hands clenching, a subtle tremor visible in his fingers.
After a moment, he looked up, forcing that lazy grin back into place like a shield. "Well, thanks for the intervention, but I think I'll survive. You two worry too much."
Cass settled into his usual, deflective silence, looking almost bored. Lyle looked as though he wanted to say a hundred things but held them all in, his jaw set.
He shifted as if he were finally about to speak, when a sharp knock rattled the door, startling them.
Lyle turned, his eyes narrowing as the door creaked open, revealing a student standing there, blinking under the harsh fluorescent lights. She was small, with wide glasses perched on her nose and a camera slung around her neck.
Lyle stiffened, his jaw tightening as he forced a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Not a good time, Lucy." His voice was low, almost as if he didn't want to disturb Cass. "My brother's not feeling well."
Lucy had tousled, shoulder-length hair that framed her face, her oversized university sweater swallowing her frame. Pens were tucked behind her ears, notebooks jutting awkwardly from her bag, and her sneakers looked ready to fall apart.
"Pres Lysander!" Lucy's voice rang out, too bright for the hushed clinic. She stepped into the room with an apologetic smile, adjusting her camera and looking around with wide, curious eyes. "Sorry, so sorry for interrupting. I know you're busy—obviously busy—especially with your brother and everything-!"
Lucy continued, gesturing awkwardly to Cass, then clasping her hands with a sudden jolt as if she realized she was talking too much.
"But I just really needed to catch you, and well, I'd tried emailing, texting—left a note with your TA, actually, which, now that I think about it, probably seemed weird. But anyway, I was about to head out when I remembered that the clinic closes early today, and I thought, 'Ah, the clinic!' So here I am!"
Lyle's tone was firm, his patience visibly thinning.
"Whatever it is, it can wait. I have other priorities right now."
Lucy's expression didn't falter. Determination flashed in her eyes as she held his gaze, gripping her camera tighter.
"Of course, priorities. I get it. I'm all about priorities—I wouldn't even be here if it weren't important, trust me. It's just that I needed to reach out, you know, as student reporter, because this is... well, it's something that could impact a lot of people. But—" she trailed off, adjusting her glasses with a sheepish smile. "I should get to the point. Which I'm going to do right... now."
She took a quick step to the side, her focus shifting as she turned her gaze on Ginny instead. Adjusting her glasses, she cleared her throat, speaking up with newfound confidence.
"I'm actually here for her. Imogen Fairchild."