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.)
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"Matty?"
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He closes his eyes again. The light in the room is killing his head.
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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?
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"I need a shower. And someone to look over my back." The parts he can't reach.
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He manages to stand, grabbing Matt's outstretched arm for balance and tugging at the bandages with the other hand.
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Turning so Matt can inspect his back, and glancing at him over his shoulder.
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"I'm so fucking dizzy, though."
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