It was Vincent.

His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles under them, like he hadn't slept all night.

I froze for a moment. Vincent was sitting on the ground, his hair disheveled, with several stains on his clothes.

Vincent was usually always perfectly put together—I'd never seen him look this much of a mess before.

"Did you sit here all night?" I asked, surprised.

"I was waiting for you," Vincent's voice was hoarse, barely above ...