The mean length of stay for the treatment of burns is
WHO: Open
WHEN: 19 May-25th May
WHERE: Florence Memorial Hospital, Room 304
WHAT: Hospital Visiting Hours
[OOC: This is basically for anyone who wants to visit Sindre while he's in the hospital, as the other thread was getting...long. Just post with your date and time of visit as you start a new run of threads~]
( 8.9 days )
WHEN: 19 May-25th May
WHERE: Florence Memorial Hospital, Room 304
WHAT: Hospital Visiting Hours
[OOC: This is basically for anyone who wants to visit Sindre while he's in the hospital, as the other thread was getting...long. Just post with your date and time of visit as you start a new run of threads~]
( 8.9 days )
That first evening, he fell asleep on an uncomfortable bench in a waiting room for a few hours before returning to Sindre's side the moment he woke up again. When he did actually go home, it was mostly because he feared if he didn't even as heavily medicated as he was, Sindre would definitely realize he hadn't and get worried. Besides, he was starting to smell and look very disreputable.
After the next visit on the following evening after a few hours of work at the store, Berwald gave up and went to ask for an appointment for himself. He returned home from said appointment with prescription sleeping pills, which left him feeling groggy and distracted all day, but at least they gave him several hours of sleep devoid of nightmares and thus allowed him to function at least on some level.
He visited Sindre every day after work, taking advantage of Marcello's kindness. It made him feel vaguely guilty, since he knew there was as much work at the store as usual, and the poor Italian probably had to stay even longer every day. At least Berwald could take some of the paperwork home and work on it at nights when he didn't feel like taking the sleeping pills, as well as making some more wooden knick knacks to sell at the store.
Now there were only two days remaining of Sindre's stay at the hospital, at least according to the doctor's predictions. Part of Berwald was glad, since he knew how tedious an extended stay at the hospital was, and it wasn't exactly an athmosphere he enjoyed visiting. On the other, at least while Sindre was still there all the doctors and nurses and machines the hospital had to offer were on hand in case of... any sort of relapse. The thought of him all alone (except for Valdi, of course) at the apartment left Berwald very worried.
"H'j," he mumbled softly, sitting down at his usual place at Sindre's bedside.
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As Berwald settled next to him, Sindre looked him over with a critical eye. Berwald still looked worn down. His face seemed a bit narrower as well.
"You don't have to come see me every day," he admonished. "Have you been eating? Sleeping?"
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"I like seeing ya, t' make sure..." he shrugged. "Just like seing ya," he repeated more decisively. "How're ya feeling t'day?" he added, giving Sindre a worried once over, not that he could really see any obvious changes.
Most of the bandaging was still there, except a few places on his face that had had only mild burns or abrasions from the bookshelf that had fallen on him, and which had been judged not to need covering up. Selfishly, Berwald wished they had been anyway, because he found it difficult to look at Sindre's face and not find his gaze drawn to the reddened patches of skin...
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He quickly turned his attention to Berwald's question. "I'm feeling like I want to get out of here," he groused. He didn't have a specific hatred of hospitals, but all this time spent doing nothing made him antsy. He didn't have the time or the inclination to just sit around.
He looked at Berwald wistfully. "Willing to help a jailbreak?"
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"...oh," he mumbled. "Remember how we talked... I don't want t'... if you don't think 's a good idea let's forget 'bout it, but I was thinking..." he realized he wasn't really getting anywhere and started again.
"Would 't be okay if I moved in f'r a bit? To help out 't the house and such?"
It felt kinda pretentious to phrase it like that when Sindre had originally made the offer just for Berwald's sake, but he just couldn't bring himself to remind him of that when he was hurt. Besides, Berwald did honestly believe there had to be something he could do. Cook and clean up and such, so Sindre wouldn't have to strain himself.
Besides, and that was again a more selfish desire, he wanted to be able to see himself that Sindre was healing and nothing happened to make his injuries worse. If not every moment at least... a lot more than he could if he didn't live in the same house.
"But I do think it's best ya stay here 's long as the doctors say ya need t'" Berwald added seriously.
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His eyes widened when Berwald's offer hit home, slightly surprised. "You don't have to do that," Sindre insisted. "It would be helpful, yes, but you don't have to go out of your way to do anything else for me."
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"I wouldn't b' going out 'f my way," Berwald protested quietly. "Actually I... I still 've trouble sleeping, too," he mumbled, barely audibly. Normally, he wouldn't have admitted it (the previous time notwithstanding the previous time when his defenses had just been blown away due to the circumstances) however, in a rare flash of insight, Berwald had realized that Sindre would find it easier to accept the offer if he could think of it as something he was doing for Berwald. He ignored the part of himself that was remarking it was mostly for his own selfish desires. Sindre had said it would be helpful himself, and he wasn't the sort to exaggerate his own needs, quite the opposite.
"And I'd really like t' help," Berwald had to add in an attempt to drown out his guilty thoughts.
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"I really would like it if you moved in," he continued. "It would be most appreciated. Especially..." he hedged. "I would understand if you don't want to, I can find someone else, but..." he glanced at his bandages. "Most of these I can't get to on my own, and I'd truly rather Valdi didn't have to see them."
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"'f course I will." And he would, no matter how unpleasant it might be. At least then he could personally make sure the wounds were healing like they should.
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He looked around the room, hoping to find something else to think about for now, and his gaze landed on the small pile of books on the bedside.
On earlier visits, back when Sindre had been on heavier medication and more tired that now, he'd confessed he didn't really have the energy to read and Berwald had been eager to offer to read aloud. After all, while he and Sindre could spend time in silence with little discomfort, at least usually, it was not quite as easy in the unfamiliar and clinical surroundings of the hospital room. And reading gave Berwald an excuse to stay a bit longer, just to 'finish this chapter'.
"Ya still reading 'Män som hatar kvinnor'?" Berwald asked.
The book had been his birthday gift to Sindre, who'd mentioned an interest in reading it in the original Swedish and complained about the difficulty of getting a copy in the States some weeks earlier, after which Berwald had called to his father and asked him to send the book by post.
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Glancing at the thick book, he examined his bookmark's location. "I'm not far along at all," he acknowledged. He didn't typically have much trouble reading in Swedish. But between the drugs, his own fatigue, and his lack of focus, he was having difficulty slogging through the language.
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He started to read aloud, taking care to pronounce the words correctly. Berwald's dark voice took them to a grim world of crime, a tangled web of international corporate trickery, dark family secrets and abuse of power. Not exactly pleasant reading, but at least it wasn't the hospital room.
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