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Post by freya verrin maxwell on Aug 11, 2009 2:49:42 GMT -5
Hospitals, to say the least, weren't Freya's favorite place to be. Granted, no one really liked them – what kind of person wanted to relive such memories of pain and despair? - but for her, it was a particular dislike that probably stemmed from the loss that had occurred in this very hospital just a year and a half prior. In her mind, it was here that had made it happen and thus it was this place's fault. This horrible building is what wrecked the last shreds of a good life she'd had, and now all she had left was painting... that was the only chance she had to live on her own. If she didn't graduate and get work, then she'd be moving back home with her parents and married off just like her Uncle. She didn't want that.. and that was why she was trying with every fiber of her being to get better and move on.. but God just kept making it so hard for her to do.
Frowning, she put her small hand on the metal door handle and entered the lobby of the miserable building, her blue gaze shifting uneasily to the patients in the waiting room as she crossed her arms around her waist. Lina, her ever-present companion, slipped her fingers around her upper arm and pulled her towards the front desk, where she spent ten full minutes questioning the nurse in charge and finally, with a huff, forced the woman into a corner she couldn't back out of. The location of Mickey's room was theirs to know merely seconds after the verbal confrontation, and for once, Freya didn't object to the slightly hostile nature that Lina seemed to project. She was a nice woman, really, but she understood Freya's situation and acted out where the smaller, younger girl couldn't.
As they both strode to the elevators, Freya sighed, keeping her eyes gazing at the floor in front of her and her fingers anxiously tangled in the fabric of her skirt. The pastel pink fabric was a comfort measure she'd taken – it was something they'd bought together, a long time ago, and she'd kept because shopping was such an infrequent experience for her. She hated her body – why buy clothes to accentuate it? As was usual, her thin upper frame was swathed in layers of cloth – first a grey undershirt to match her leggings and then a white tank top to keep her warm through the chill that had taken over the city as of late. Despite the season, it was uncharacteristically cool, and she'd always had a thing for layers anyway.. frowning gently as the elevator doors opened, Lina took her arm once more and led her down the hallway.
The white tiles beneath her feet twisted and tilted left and right, all directions, trying to confuse her and keep her away from visiting Mickey, but she managed to dispel them with a small sigh. As they approached the room, Freya felt her knees go weak and her head spin for thoughts on what to say.. he hadn't told her what it was, exactly, that had landed him in the hospital, but she'd heard a lot of expansive words tossed around by Lina, and she was afraid... it didn't seem like he was in good condition and the nurse at the station hadn't wanted to let them in..
Pushing lightly on the wood of the heavy door to his room, Freya couldn't say she was anything less then surprised when it gave without hesitation and swung open to reveal the florescent room – through the gauze of the curtains she could barely make out the figure on the bed, except for the familiar inky blank hair and lanky stature. The beeping of monitors was audible, and a couple of tubes could be seen coming from his arms, but other then that he was alone – no other shadows were able to be distinguished. Lina, always the interpreter, closed the door after Freya and left to go do whatever it was she did when Freya was off with Mickey – or even talking to him. She always seemed to conveniently disappear...
Sliding her delicate hands into the fabric of the curtains, she pulled them around so that she could see him, and tried to hold in the gasp at the horrible nature of things. He was pale – sallow and sickly, and looked so small against the white bed. The hospitals had a tendency to do that to people – make them seem weak and vulnerable. From what she could tell he seemed bored, but then, she couldn't differentiate between bored and tired anymore; often times they resulted in the same thing – sleep.
Smiling lightly, she moved to sit next to him without even saying anything, her small body perched on the side of the hospital bed. Her hands fluttered for a moment before resting against his cheek, eyes darting off to the side table to realize that the apple sauce he'd refused to eat previously was still there.. or maybe that was today's entree. Her gaze flickering back, she moved her hand down from his face to his fingers, twining them together just like old times and smiling lightly at him as if that would brighten the mood. “I didn't bring anything for us to do..” she started, her gaze shifting down to their hands as she continued. “For some reason I thought there would at least be a television... “
on the inside, Freya was panicking. Her heartbeat was accelerated and her thoughts were bouncing back and forth faster then a rabbit. On the outside, the only hint of her worry was her hands gently quivering – betraying beasts they were. Without really waiting for a response, she frowned, her doll-like persona taking over before the whisper stole her voice. “How are you feeling?”
count; 990
outfit; click.
notes; look, steph! I WROTE YOU A NOVEL ;D |
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Post by mickey cornelius sparto on Aug 11, 2009 14:34:47 GMT -5
It had started off as a simple trade. He went to the corner by where he lived, got a few dime bags from the guy in the limo, went back to his apartment, shot them up, had a couple friends over with a couple drinks, and then he went to bed, no thought about it considering he had been doing it for the past few days his supposed girlfriend had disappeared on him.
In the morning, he felt sick but got up anyway, thinking it would go away by the time he was done with rehearsal at the studio. Wrong. All through rehearsal, his producer and band mates continued to question him whether he was alright or not. They said he looked pale and he replied with the smart remark of him always looking pale. They said his words were starting to slur when he would sing and then they claimed he was drunk or had a hangover. But Mick didn't get hangovers and he didn't drink enough to get one anyways. And then he made everyone stop in the middle of one of their songs because the room had started spinning and he was seeing spots all over. Before he knew it, he felt his entire body go like jello and the floor came up and smacked hard against his body, but he couldn't feel it. All he could do was stare blankly and taste the copper like liquid in his mouth...
Then, just black.
He ended up waking up feeling the sharpest pain in his side and a doctor yelling at some nurse to give him more anesthesia. He had, apparently, woken up while they were trying to get a tube into his liver to clean it out-and another tube in his blood stream to clean that out too. He hadn't realized he had been screaming from how bad it hurt until a nurse told him later; when he woke up groggily and was being given applesauce as if he was a baby again. Of course; he rejected it. Naturally of course.
And then from then on, he didn't know how long he had been in the same hospital bed. He would fall in and out of sleep, barely being able to keep his eyes opened from how exhausted his body suddenly felt. It didn't help that when he was awake; the only entertainment he had was his phone; which he usually just left charging over on the table off to the side.
When he felt a hand on his cheek, he forced his eyes to open, though they opened very slowly. When his pale blue eyes landed on Freya's face, he attempted to sit up better, to not seem as if he was so tired but he knew he failed epically, because after one attempt, he just stayed in his spot and gave in, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"Hey hey, Halo," he chuckled quietly, giving her a soft smile, the warmth running through his hollow chest. The same warmth he was lately calling some artificial deficiency. He listened to her speak and shrugged at the television comment. He had a private room now, but apparently, he didn't get a television in it.
"Oh...I'm feeling better," Lie. He smiled though, a huge and cheesy grin on his face as if he were all better, "I should be getting out of here soon...The nurses don't like me much," because he kept asking for a baconator and wouldn't eat the apple sauce...
But it was another lie. He knew he probably wouldn't get out of here for a while. They told him what was wrong with him. The only way he would be able to leave was if he got a liver transplant or they somehow managed to clean out his liver enough to have him at least in his apartment-though still bed ridden since walking was seriously a pain in the ass with a tube coming out of your side. As her fingers laced into his, though, he chuckled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"What about you, though? How are those classes going for ya'?" he easily changed the subject onto her. He didn't want to talk about what was wrong with him. He didn't want to tell her that he was at the bottom of a very long waiting list or that if he didn't get his health back up soon he wouldn't make it to see Christmas. . .
He yawned a bit as he lay there, waiting for her to answer-sort of waiting for her to avoid his question too, like she had a tendency to do lately. It was weird, seeing her from this point of view. He was so used to it being the other way around. Him trying to help her...He was way too used to it. So much, that he sort of did the same thing with Beth. Always looking after her because he was afraid she would break...like Freya did...
But it didn't matter. She disappeared...One visit and she was gone again. He figured she would be. No one ever really wanted to be with someone who could end up six feet under any day now if his body decided to take a turn for the worse instead of the better...
935 WORDS
HAHAHA IT'S ALL GOOD ;) |
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Post by freya verrin maxwell on Aug 11, 2009 19:28:15 GMT -5
Halo... the nickname had stuck since the second time they met. It didn't seem to be an affectionate thing at first, but after a while it turned into a petname almost... he didn't call her anything else unless he was upset or angry – either way, she'd much rather tolerate such a silly name then see him in either of those states. A small smile surfaced as the words tumbled from his mouth again, and she was happy to see her was mildly coherent – even in a unstable state of mind she doubted she'd be opposed to visiting him, but it certainly helped that she could talk to him without struggling to relate on a point.
Her blue gaze darting over him once more, she frowned at the tube on the opposite side spouting out of his side, and noted the dark circles – still present even though he was in a hospital. He was probably the only person she knew (given, she didn't know very many) who could manage to look so sleepy even when the only thing he was probably doing lately was sleeping. He wasn't going anywhere – at least, he wasn't when he was hooked up to all of those machines – a thought that would have worried a sane person, but Freya wasn't really all that sane. She was twisted into so many different directions that she couldn't even pinpoint which way she'd started out any more. To her, it was a good thing he could get up and walk away – that meant he wasn't going to leave her any time soon and slip off the face of the Earth.
At his words, she couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. Of course they didn't appreciate his stubborn nature – and shoving a tube down his throat was hardly their idea of a good time. She was surprised there wasn't one down there too, with the way things seemed to be going. Tubes going every which way. That's what happened when you were bedridden... Freya didn't know why he was even in the hospital other then the vague description he'd given her – 'it has something to do with my liver.' Well, that wasn't very helpful and that night, her computer time had been limited when she'd looked so distraught.. smiling absently at him, she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, her eyes flickering to the full bowl of apple sauce once more. “Maybe if you'd let them take care of you..” she murmured, tilting her head in the direction of the food for an instant.
The switch of topic had her frowning again, her lips turned down at the corner. He always did that.. without exception. She wasn't really that interesting.. offhandedly she shrugged, her gaze flitting around the room and landing anywhere but on him. He looked so pale.. so sick.. and it wasn't like she could do much to help except try to force him to eat – and obviously she wouldn't be good at that. She couldn't even make herself eat, so how was she supposed to do it for someone else? A frown surfaced as she tightened her grip on his hand – even then it wasn't by much and probably only felt like a dull squeezing sensation. She was weak... thin and waif-like since she could remember. It didn't help that now was a time when she didn't think she could be strong... the strongest person she knew was in the hospital, maybe even dying... her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his question echoing through her mind.
Brow wrinkled, she opened her eyes and peered at him, trying to steel herself towards the image of Mickey, weakened. “Oh... you know.” she managed, her voice low and scratchy. Clearing her throat, she ran her free hand over her hair absently and shrugged. “Lina took me for coffee the other day.. it's lovely... I was going to bring my things and paint today... i'm glad I didn't – there's nothing good outside to paint... Did you know there are thirty five calories in a cup of coffee? That's a lot for a drink.. Diet coke doesn't have any..” as she continued to speak, her voice broke in different places and her tone shifted – a sign that she was upset and had no idea what to talk to him about at all.. this wasn't the same as it always was and she was so confused... so unable to even think at the moment. They were both broken now – exactly how it was bound to end up from the beginning. “It's the same hospital...” she stated flatly.. a frown having taken permanent position over her delicate features. Choking back the tears that threatened to pour out of her eyes at the very thought, she managed another sentence: “Don't you dare do the same thing.... “
count; 832
outfit; click.
notes; look, steph! I WROTE YOU A NOVEL ;D
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Post by mickey cornelius sparto on Aug 11, 2009 20:02:49 GMT -5
At her words...The last few...
Mickey pulled his hand slightly away from her's and he looked away from her and down at the blankets. How do you tell someone that you didn't know whether you would make it or not? There really was no way to say it than to say it, so he did just that. Sometimes he hated his own honesty, but it was something he was horrible and conspiciously hiding, "I can't promise anything..." his voice was quiet as he spoke, barely above her whisper. He was scared shitless. Of course he was. How couldn't he be?
He looked up at her with wavering, weary, and worn down eyes once so deep and a rich royal blue now pale like he had drank the color away or cried it all out, "Freya..." out of instinct he pulled her a bit closer,wincing slightly since it was the arm with the IV in it, "I'm gonna try, that I can promise," he pushed her hair out of her face and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "When I get out of here we'll go hang out at the park," he smiled at her tiresomely, his breathing slightly shallow, "and you can paint me that Alice in Wonderland statue I like," he chuckled, slightly forced as he let his arm drop limply from her side and laid his head back, closing his eyes gently and swallowing hard as he felt the pain rush up from his side again. It was like getting stabbed over and over again and each time it was a little deeper and the invisible person would twist it a little, just enough to make him scrunch his nose slightly and lock his jaw.
After a few moments, his eyes sort of dated open before going slightly droopy again. He seemed to refocus on looking up at Freya and he smiled softly, taking long and slow blinks, "You know I love you, right?"
His voice was quieter, again a bit more exhausted than before when she first came in, "Forever and always..." he coughed a little and then chuckled like the cough hadn't ripped his throat apart that one second. His hand reached up and played with her hair absent mindedly. He felt like he was back in their little apartment; the night they first got there and it was pouring out. When they stood there in the living room and he took the chance and leaned in and kissed her...How their lips never stopped crashing together, how they fell onto the couch and their bodies molded together, when he first fell in love with every moan that would come from her throat and every time she would say his name.
The night he realized just how much he really did love her.
It seemed like all thoughts of consequences, all thoughts of the outside world, of his girlfriend who went missing again, of the recording company he had a contract with, of the nurse that would probably yell at him for doing what he was doing...It was like they all disappeared and it was just them two, the rain beating down on the window...
Mickey hadn't realized that he had been slowly bringing her closer to him until his lips caught onto her's. It was like a huge weight was lifted off his thin shoulders. Like he could just, maybe, get an ounce of real sleep instead of dreamless black nothingness over and over again-a monotony he hated so dearly because it felt like he would never wake up yet when he wanted to so badly. He missed her so much...Even when she was right in front of him...
He missed the way the sun would hit her pearly skin in the morning, the way she looked so peaceful when she was sleeping, the way she smiled when he would come home from work, her little fists pounding into his chest when he would piss her off enough, her feeble attempts to always avoid questions, the way she looked like a delicate flower as she painted to apartment...How she looked with her large, round stomach with the headphones over it playing music...
He pulled away, but barely, their faces still close. He hadn't realized he had tears brimming his eyes, but they weren't spilling over. He didn't want them to, "Please be here everytime I wake up....?"
If it wasn't obvious before, it was obvious now that Mickey was terrified of being alone. That after having everything he had and then losing it, he was terrified of becoming the person he once was. The old Mickey would have ripped all the tubes out, walked out of the hospital, and probably would have died on the way home for being stubborn and not caring about anyone. The Mickey he became with Halo was different...That was the guy he wanted to be...But he could only be that person with Freya...
878 WORDS
HAHAHA IT'S ALL GOOD ;) |
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Post by freya verrin maxwell on Aug 12, 2009 0:58:51 GMT -5
Couldn't promise.. of course he could promise! He could do everything in his will power to keep her from ending up with two dead loved ones. He could cooperate with the nurses and eat the applesauce... he could... it wasn't healthy for one person to worry quite so much, and yet Freya couldn't help it – she'd always been that way and probably always would be. Compassion was just something that she naturally had for anyone in any circumstance, and with that came worry – she worried over everyone, really, it was odd... if a bum asked for money, without a second thought she'd hand it over. So it was only natural that she'd want to encourage Mickey to be better, but she didn't know how.. she'd never had to do it before. He'd always been the strong one in the relationship – she'd always been the broken china. It was to the extent where she even understood how messed up she was.. she knew she was cracked – but Mickey.. he wasn't. He could get away and be so much better.. all he needed was help.. and she couldn't be the one to help him. It was what she'd started telling him on the balcony, but she'd been interrupted and she hadn't felt the urge to make him leave.. and now wasn't a good time either.
Because she did love him – with all of her heart. She didn't think she could ever be anywhere else and work if she was away from him.. it just wasn't happening. It was like they were magnets and the farther away from him she got, the weaker she was and the more feeble minded. Freya was completely addicted to Mickey, no matter how much she denied it to herself or who was in the way – she couldn't help it, it was like they were made for each other and a couple of broken pieces wee scattered below that they had to find and put back in the right place. Somehow, she got the idea that things at that school in France hadn't been pleasant, and thus she was happy he didn't tell her – ultimately, she didn't want to know. Closing her eyes against the kiss on her cheek, she licked her lips nervously for a minute, pulling back... Beth. She didn't know what had gotten into him, but he wasn't a cheater before.. although maybe the circumstances were different because it was her... she couldn't tell and didn't really want to go there. She wouldn't question him, because she never did – it was part of the unconditional trust thing. She believed he'd do right in every area on his own..
She didn't dare move, keeping herself slightly pulled over, one elbow holding up her torso against the bed and a small smile gracing her features as she listened to him speak.. forever and always – that sounded nice. Nodding her head, she pressed her forehead against his chest, not putting any of her weight on him since he seemed to be having enough trouble with just his own body. Bringing her eyes up so she could look at him, she smiled absently and shifted back. “I love you too..” she murmured, shifting just a little bit closer. She felt like she was missing something.. it wasn't a good feeling – he didn't seem to be himself at the minute. The last time she could remember an I love you in the hospital was right after... right after the death of their little baby.. he'd said it and it had made her cry all the more because it was just another person she was afraid to lose.
Perhaps that was some of the thrill of loving – the exact thought that was caught on her lips as he kissed her again... and she was brought right back to where they all started.. the only problem was his request. Yearning crashed over her like waves onto rocks – sharp and piercing, frothy and wild and yet she couldn't give in.. because circumstances were as she'd said on the balcony – you could never just be with who you wanted. It would never work out for her.. she'd never be able to be the shoulder he needed.. because she couldn't even carry her own problems. She was a pathetic excuse for a person.. and yet he seemed to love her enough to put up with her anyway – something she could hardly imagine. Brushing her lips against his for just a second, she nuzzled his nose, her eyes closed briefly and when they opened, all she saw was tears... she wanted to brush them away, but they weren't fallen yet.. “I can't.. I ... I'm not allowed out.. I don't want to leave you..” pulling back, she sat back down on the edge of the bed and shifted her hand so it was resting against his cheek once more. “I want to be here every day.. I'll visit you as often as I can..” running her fingers down to his jaw, she moved her hand backwards and went up around his ear, tracing his face as if that would help her to remember it.. down.. down around to his neck and collarbone, over to the base of his throat – the hollow there.. she paused, a small smile resting on her features.. “We have today, Mickey...” yes.. and even if that was all they had, it would have to do.. “Please don't cry..” she stated, even though it might have been a little bit late as she raised her hand to run her fingers over his lips.. “Everything will be all right.. God won't let us be so unhappy for so long...”
count; 978
outfit; click.
notes; if these get any longer we could publish them xD
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Post by mickey cornelius sparto on Aug 12, 2009 1:47:07 GMT -5
As she spoke, Mickey simply went silent. He was listening to what she was saying, as he always did, but it was like he couldn't grasp it. He couldn't wrap his finger around it. As she spoke her last words, he closed his eyes gently, his face scrunching up a bit as the pain hit his side again.
They were pushing way too deep this time, though...and they were twisting it for the hell of it - just enough to make him lock his jaw tightly, his other hand gripping the sheets tightly. And then he felt the coughing rise up in his throat and he turned over so his back was away from Freya, though that had been painful within itself. He knew he was coughing-a lot. Hell he could taste the copper liquid in his throat and when he opened his eyes even slightly, he could see it on the sheets. He felt like his head and all of his insides were ready to just implode into some unknown black hole.
And then he felt like the world was spinning up and around him again, ready to smack him like it did before. But he felt nothing but that tremendous pain in his side. He hadn't realized that he had sat up and was gripping his side, looking ready to rip the tube out. He couldn't hear anything and he saw everything as if it were in a fog...But he must have been doing something wrong because there was that nurse again and he could just make out her mouth moving and her hands on his trying to stop him from ripping off all the tubes and needles that were suppose to be helping him but just made him feel like he was a fucking robot on life support.
He couldn't feel anything-his mind too focused on getting the knife out of his side. He wanted to yell and push the nurse...and whoever else seemed to be entering the room quickly, to try and explain what was happening so they could understand...But his throat felt like it was closed up tight and like he couldn't breath anymore...
Because soon the world was off, spinning again and everything was going like jello and he felt a sheering cold hit his face. But there was no black. He was waiting for it but it wasn't happening. Instead, everything, the sounds around him, became sharper and more clearer. He could feel the black starting to slip in as he heard the shout of orders and someone yelling or screaming or sobbing he couldn't really place it. And as he felt the black veil wrap itself around his mind, he heard that same sound that had come from their baby's crib...The flatline.
Sleep was a nice thing. He imagined he was back in the apartment and memory after memory replayed like some sappy love movie Freya would occassionally make him watch. The good and the bad played, right from the very beginning and he didn't bother pausing on any parts. He just let it all roll.
He didn't know how long he was in the inky black. All he knew was that the first thing that came back was the sounds around him. The little beep! in tune with his heart beat, and then the muted scuffles of shoes and someone placing their hand on top of his and giving it a warm squeeze. With that, he squeezed back, though not by much. Just enough. His bones ached as if they had been clentched in the same position for a while or something.
Everything hurt, but that wasn't knew. He didn't want to sleep it off anymore. He wanted to just go home...So he finally let his eyes open and land on the person that was holding his hand...
675 WORDS
HAHAHA IT'S ALL GOOD  |
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Post by freya verrin maxwell on Aug 12, 2009 2:52:16 GMT -5
Three days ago, things had taken a turn for the worse. Three days ago, just after admitting his love for her, Mickey had coughed up blood and passed out, amid a rush of nurses and doctors like Freya had never seen before. Apparently he was on high watch for a problem, because the second one occurred everyone who worked in the hospital was there, watching what was happening like it was Grey's Anatomy.. like it wasn't a person who people loved and cared for that was having complications.. she was worried, she was insanely panicked, but she managed to make it through the night after everything had settled down and they'd gotten him stabilized. Lina had given up trying to drag her away, because no matter how many times she did, she'd just cry and scream and kick until they let her right back to his side again. She wasn't leaving – not if she had any say in it. Call her parents, whatever...
And so for three very long, very sleepless days, she'd sat by his side at the hospital, watching restlessly all day and all night to see if he'd crack an eyelid and tell her it was all a joke.. but he hadn't. Any food the nurse set by her side was disregarded, any drinks, she hardly even moved except to go to the bathroom and the showers she'd taken when she had an absolute guarantee that someone would come get her if he woke up. Lina brought her clothes every day – usually more revealing then she would have chosen but she wasn't about to start complaining. Julliard had called Lina's cellphone seven times in regards to her missed classes, and each time she promised them she'd make it up – this was more important. Because if he died, she wouldn't know what to do with herself.. it wouldn't be right and nothing would ever fit back into place again. As a result, on the third day when she finally reached out and touched him, the impulsive squeeze she'd received back held little to no hope. She hardly noticed – blaming it off on nerve endings...
It didn't seem fair to have him taken away like this, and what's more horrible could have been the taunting sounds that were coming from the heart monitors and other assorted machines that were attached to the bed and him. Despite his current unresponsive state, his heart was still beating.. he was alive, but he wasn't there and it was frustrating and nerve wracking as well.. he could be brain dead... she wondered what would happen then.. and just then, his eyes fluttered open. Her heart stopped for a second, wondering if three days without sleeping had caused her to have an unhealthy reaction to stress and if she was just hallucinating it. Blinking several times at him, she waited for a voice to come but couldn't make anything come out of her throat – perhaps she was scarred into silence by the sight of him, convulsing and bending in ways no human should... a seizure.. it was such a scary thing.
She didn't care if she ever saw it again – television or not. Closing her eyes for a second, she opened them again and was pleased to find he was still looking back at her.. a relieved sigh left her chest and she brought his fingers up to her face, nuzzling them briefly. “I thought you left me.. oh god.. if you left me I don't know what I'd have done..' she managed the words, surprisingly, though her voice cracked from disuse and some of the words might have been unintelligible. Smoothing back the inky black locks from his forehead, she smiled half heartedly at him.. still so ill looking in the big white hospital bed. “Should I get the nurse..?” she asked softly, her Russian accent clinging on the words stronger then ever – it was a stress thing.
count; 669
outfit; click.
notes; heh.. sixty nine.
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