intervention, one can only hope

[baby_go_boom]

The drugs make it really easy to just... lose track. What had previously been an effective twenty to eight sleep schedule morphs into a kind of blurr of dozing, wakefulness (pain) then medication and sleep. He gets out of bed sometimes to use the bathroom, occasionally to throw up. He doesn't remember to shower (can't, really, with the burns.)

Comments

[baby_go_boom]

His eyes open, but recognition is slow to dawn. Eventually he manages,

"Matty?"

[baby_go_boom]

"Ha, ha."

He closes his eyes again. The light in the room is killing his head.

[baby_go_boom]

"What day is it?"

He can't even begin to be sure. What time of day was it when he last woke up. The clock said six thirty. Night or morning?

[baby_go_boom]

"Oh no." He struggles to sit up, mobilized into at least a little bit of action by this news. "Fuck, Matty."

[baby_go_boom]

"Whenever I was last awake." And who knows when that was. It's obviously time for the bandages to be changed; or maybe come off entirely, what with Mel having hit him with a burst of that healing magic.

"I need a shower. And someone to look over my back." The parts he can't reach.

[baby_go_boom]

"You'll love this. Someone worked sorcery on me. Check this shit out."

He manages to stand, grabbing Matt's outstretched arm for balance and tugging at the bandages with the other hand.

[baby_go_boom]

"Think I can stop wrapping them up all the time? If I stick to cotton shirts and loose fitting things."

Turning so Matt can inspect his back, and glancing at him over his shoulder.

[baby_go_boom]

"Thanks." For coming by, for getting him moving, whatever. For permission to debandage. Both. Either.

"I'm so fucking dizzy, though."