Dillon had always hated hospitals. He hated the feel of them. The smell of them. The look of them. The infirmary wasn't really a hospital, but it definitely had enough of the look and the feel and the smell to make Dillon anxious as he walked the halls.
He'd just been in April's room—more anxiety in there, and not only because of the infirmary itself, but because of April's brother—and he was planning on tracking his brother down to do what he'd told April he'd do; ask for a different room. The hospital feeling made his body uncomfortable, but he pushed down the discomfort, because he needed to be here now. Not just for April, but for himself. To make sure that April was okay.
He approached the front desk and asked one of the receptionists where his brother was, then followed the directions she gave.
From the doorframe, he heard Zach muttering to himself, and considered turning to walk away when it looked like he needed the sleep. Maybe I should leave him alone, he thought to himself. Come back later or something.
But it was too late. His brother had already noticed him. "Well, excuse me for thinking that talking to my big brother was a good reason to be here," he said, half-joking. But when Zach turned around, he'd see the concern that lined Dillon's eyes, and how his mouth pressed together in a firm, worried line.