Prompt 164, Pills, "Trivialities"
Title: Trivialities
Series: Manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 497
Rating: G
Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye
Summary: [Spoiler here. See Warnings.]Roy deals
with being in the hospital.
Warnings: Spoilers for the last chapters of the manga/last
episodes of Brotherhood. There is angst, too.
They gave him pills to help with the pain.There wasn't much to help with, but they set up a schedule anyway. For as long as he remained in the hospital, he was brought two pills in a paper cup three times a day. A nurse would plod into the room, speak to him in a sweet voice filled with pleasantries, and set the appropriate meal tray down in his lap. Then she would stand there, hovering over him, watching as if he couldn't tell she was, until his hand slid around the edge of the tray, then over, and closed around the cup. Only when he'd downed both pills would she leave, after asking him if he needed any more help, which he never admitted to needing.
He didn't fault her for doing her job, but he always waited until he heard the door close before he began attempting to eat, finding the proper utensils and testing the consistency of his food. The only pair of eyes he tolerated watching him while he ate belonged to the woman who sat in the cot beside his, and even so, he was thankful that she was usually asleep for breakfast and dinner. She took her meals at different times. She'd been injured worse than he had, and needed her rest; ultimately, he knew who to fault for that. He tried not to think about it too much. Thinking about it made
him realize that maybe he wasn't so thankful.
At breakfast, he often tried to eat before she woke up. Breakfast was usually served warm, so he had an excuse to hurry. Of course, the pain the pills were supposed to prevent was never gone so quickly, and manipulating the utensils shot piercing agony through his hands. As far as he knew, however, his sharp intakes of breath never woke her, so he bore the pain. He knew if she were awake to see it, she would have disapproved, but she didn't see it, so he wouldn't tell her. He wouldn't tell her, but he preferred to withstand the pain that restricted him to stiff, fumbling movements, than make a mess of himself while she, or anyone else, could see it. She probably knew without being told.
After eating, he would lean back, and rest. If it were breakfast or dinner, he would have time to spend in silence, whether it were spent waiting for her to wake up, or for sleep to come to him as well. With so little to delight his senses, he would spend the time waiting for the pills to take away his trivial pains. Soon afterward, he would have visitors, either in reality or dreams, who would help him with his recovery, quiz him on his work, and pretend things were okay, but for those moments, he simply waited for the throbbing behind his eyes to subside.
The pills could take away his aches, but they couldn't give him back his eyesight.
Series: Manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 497
Rating: G
Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye
Summary: [Spoiler here. See Warnings.]Roy deals
with being in the hospital.
Warnings: Spoilers for the last chapters of the manga/last
episodes of Brotherhood. There is angst, too.
They gave him pills to help with the pain.There wasn't much to help with, but they set up a schedule anyway. For as long as he remained in the hospital, he was brought two pills in a paper cup three times a day. A nurse would plod into the room, speak to him in a sweet voice filled with pleasantries, and set the appropriate meal tray down in his lap. Then she would stand there, hovering over him, watching as if he couldn't tell she was, until his hand slid around the edge of the tray, then over, and closed around the cup. Only when he'd downed both pills would she leave, after asking him if he needed any more help, which he never admitted to needing.
He didn't fault her for doing her job, but he always waited until he heard the door close before he began attempting to eat, finding the proper utensils and testing the consistency of his food. The only pair of eyes he tolerated watching him while he ate belonged to the woman who sat in the cot beside his, and even so, he was thankful that she was usually asleep for breakfast and dinner. She took her meals at different times. She'd been injured worse than he had, and needed her rest; ultimately, he knew who to fault for that. He tried not to think about it too much. Thinking about it made
him realize that maybe he wasn't so thankful.
At breakfast, he often tried to eat before she woke up. Breakfast was usually served warm, so he had an excuse to hurry. Of course, the pain the pills were supposed to prevent was never gone so quickly, and manipulating the utensils shot piercing agony through his hands. As far as he knew, however, his sharp intakes of breath never woke her, so he bore the pain. He knew if she were awake to see it, she would have disapproved, but she didn't see it, so he wouldn't tell her. He wouldn't tell her, but he preferred to withstand the pain that restricted him to stiff, fumbling movements, than make a mess of himself while she, or anyone else, could see it. She probably knew without being told.
After eating, he would lean back, and rest. If it were breakfast or dinner, he would have time to spend in silence, whether it were spent waiting for her to wake up, or for sleep to come to him as well. With so little to delight his senses, he would spend the time waiting for the pills to take away his trivial pains. Soon afterward, he would have visitors, either in reality or dreams, who would help him with his recovery, quiz him on his work, and pretend things were okay, but for those moments, he simply waited for the throbbing behind his eyes to subside.
The pills could take away his aches, but they couldn't give him back his eyesight.