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It's hilarious. Andy can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
The ugly hospital gown they have put him in, the sterile white walls, the beeping of the monitors and the way his family looks at him.
They all think he's nuts.
Their expressions are weary and full of pity. Harder, fragile. His mom keeps rubbing her eyes and his dad sighs loudly, awkwardly, because he does not know what to say or what to do in this situation.
Jen stands gazing out of the window, brows knit together, shoulders tight and arms akimbo. She hasn't even acknowledged him ever since she entered the hospital room. Andy knows she's angry, but it's fine, she's always mad at him anyway.
The silence is oppressing so he laughs again. Dryly.
Surely, if there is anyone who appreciates his jokes it would be his good friend Daniel.
But Daniel is not laughing with him. No, instead, his lips are pressed together in a thin line and his dark eyes glister with unshed tears. Knuckles white as they clench around the railing of the bed.
Andy wants to grasp his hands, to tell him to stop (because Danny what did that poor railing ever do to you?) But his hands are immobile and words refuse to form on his tongue.
Aw, Danny. You should know better than that. It's just a joke, I didn't mean it.
Andy watches as his shoulders start to tremble, quivers that spread over his whole body. In the background his mother sniffles loudly.
Daniel looks like he's going to say something and Andy's interest grows suddenly at that. Something new, something interesting, something other than the crying and the frowning and the godawful judging he's been subjected to for the past fifteen minutes.
His friend looks unsure of himself as his lips part, so Andy cheers him on.
Come on Danny, you can do it. Say something, anything.
But instead, Daniel shakes his head grimly. Lowers himself far enough so that Andy can not see his eyes.
He's disappointed, more than that actually. The one person he spends more time with than his own family. The one whom he thought knew him better than perhaps Andy himself.
He relied on Daniel, always. But just this once he didn't and is that what caused this?
Andy's throat itches and swallowing is difficult with how dry it is. No one has volunteered to hold the cup to his lips and he cannot ask them, not now. Maybe there are distracted, or maybe they don't care.
Perhaps the silence is punishment for his madness.
A way of asking him 'how does it taste, nothing?'
It's hilarious, really. Andy doesn't laugh at the absurdity of it all.