Chapter Text
*Hawks*
“Hawks, what the fuck did I say about watching her on TV? That’s why you’re in this mess in the first place.”
Sherrie grabs the remote from my bedside table, the audible click of the button echoing through the room I’ve called my own for the past four weeks. She leans back, arms crossed as she rests against the wall. I feel like a scolded child at this point.
“You got permission from your doctor to get up and walk around.”
She nods her head to the open door behind her, the sterile lighting from the hallway lights drifting through the opening.
“Thanks Sherrie!”
I smile, sing-songing my voice to the best of my ability as she walks out of the room. Attempting to get up is usually a struggle, even just getting to the bathroom is annoying with all the wires they have plugged into me. I shift to the side of my bed, legs dangling off, grippy hospital socks hitting the floor–moving my IV stand, making sure it won’t rip out of my hand when I stand.
As I stand up fully, carefully stretching out my arms and allowing my wings to fluff themselves up, I walk to the door, pushing my IV pole and vitals stand in front of me as I walk.
A few of the nurses wave, smiling at the fact I'm able to get up and move around at the moment.
“You look mighty chipper at the moment.”
I pause, turning to see Sage smiling at me from behind the nurses station. I make my way over, still careful not to fuck with any wires.
“Got the A-Okay to walk around a bit, I'm pretty happy with that.”
My voice is scratchy, and feels like shit to be honest, but I'm able to make most of the words sound correct.
“Don’t push yourself too hard, we do not want you collapsing on us.”
I roll my eyes at that. I may be dying, but I am not going to let them chain me to a bed for ages.
Turning, I head further down the hall. At one point, when the nurses seem to be vacant from a certain hallway, I smirk to myself and grab both my IV poles. I hold them tightly, and get a running start. I jump up, carefully putting my feet on the rolling legs. The hallway is a blur as I travel down it quickly.
This is pretty much the closest I can get to flying while stuck in this god-forsaken building. I let my wings fill out, slowing myself down. I’m panting at this point attempting to catch my breath from the adrenaline rushing through me. In my stupor, I don’t notice a familiar pair of tealish-blue eyes watching me.
Hearing one of the nurses yell, I turn around, a groan leaving my lips in annoyance at being caught in my antics so soon. I head back down the hallway, my eyes trailing over each room and the closed door. Everytime I’m given the ability to get up.. Which isn’t often… I read each plaque, seeing the names of people who have had their lives uprooted and changed.. I’ve met a few other people in the unit, not everyone here suffers from Hanahaki, this is mainly just the unit of people who are long-stayers at the hospital. Almost every door is decorated to the liking and personality of the person who inhabits it.
As I return to my own room, I glance around. Most of my decor is just gifts and trinkets from fans, a few blankets that I've brought from home, all piled up at once on my bed like a makeshift nest. The blinds are usually kept closed, so it’s pretty dark, but I prefer it that way. Makes it easier to sleep.
A deep knock startles me away from my thoughts, and I turn my head towards the door. One of the newer Nurse Practitioners, Alex, is standing in my doorway.
“We need you back in bed in five, Sherrie’s coming in for a blood draw.”
I nod, unable to stop the sigh that escapes my lips. Alex shoots me a sympathetic look, and leaves me to myself.
I gather up my blankets, re-arranging them, and fluff them up a bit before I lay all the wires and tubes on the left side–then crawl back into bed.
Turn on my side, staring at the tiniest bit of sunlight that shines in through the gap in the shades. I pull a blanket to my chest, and wrap my arms around it, then cuddle it close–attempting to hold on to the soft bit of comfort that I know won’t leave me.
Looking down into the trash beside my bed, I can’t help but stare at the bloodied flower petals that have now wilted. Each day the amount gets bigger and bigger. More blood coating each petal as the weeks go on. I know I can’t live like this forever, that there are two ways to cure it, but i’m not having the surgery–losing my emotions sounds like the worst fucking thing imaginable. My sass and quick retorts are what make me, me. I know my feelings aren’t going to be returned, so I'm stuck in this unit until they either come up with a miracle cure, or I die.
Not complaining, I mean, it's a really fucking nice unit. Perks of being a top-ten hero I guess… But I’d still prefer to be at home.. My doctor said that at the seven-week mark, if my symptoms haven’t gotten better. (which they won’t.) Then I can return home, and live the last few of my days on my own accord. Which sounds like a pretty good compromise considering this is already my fourth week in this fucking hospital.
As Sherrie walks through the door–I turn over and face her, holding out my arm. I close my eyes, allowing myself to disassociate for the time being.
I can practically feel the warmth of home on my skin, the smell of my kitchen and the candles in my bathroom. I miss all my clothes from my closet, the hoodies and t-shirts that are so different from the hospital gowns they give me.
All I have to do is survive twenty one days here, then I get to go home.
Today is officially day zero.