fcture:
Carefully settling in the chair beside Gundam’s hospital bed his eyes are hooked upon the folded fingers in his lap; how to even lead into this…?
“How are you feeling…?” He starts off, a normal inquiry, the right thing to begin with but is it stalling? Stalling from what he will INEVITABLY have to reveal? “I checked your charts and… Everything seems to be normal so far.” It dawns on him too late how strange his claim of awareness to Gundam’s medical state… There are only a few who know so far WHO HE TRULY IS… So much to tell and so few good ways to EXPLAIN it.
WHOEVER DECIDED THAT THE ROOM should have a window directly next to the bed was both an angel and the devil that lurked in gundam’s nightmares. he was able to look out upon the landscape, but every now and then there would be flashbacks – of sights, sounds, smells. everything that had him nearly leaning over his bed and vomiting into the pan left on the table next to the bed.
❛ i feel as if i am in optimal condition, ❜ is what breezes past his lips when he finally speaks, clearing his throat soon after. ❛ sleep is hard to come by. this room lacks the usual comforts of breathing animals, it’s harder to fall asleep to the rhythms of the monitors. ❜ he doesn’t question why he knows what is normal for his condition. he pulls his gaze from the window, finally, eyes sliding onto the brunet’s.