Dancing in the moonlight, singing in the rain
WHO: Berwald and Sindre
WHEN: Wednesday 25 May, Early afternoon
WHERE: Sindre's apartment
WHAT: Triumphant returns?
The cessation of movement had Sindre blinking slowly awake. He stared at the sight in front of him for a long moment, disoriented. Where were the bare walls of the hospital, the few flowers, the machines and stiff white linens?
Then his brain caught up with him. He was in his car, staring up at his building. He was wrapped in loose clothing, no one wanting to put undue pressure on his injuries. The flowers were in the back. He had been discharged.
He hated these drugs. Or, he tried to. It was hard to hate anything right now...
They did made the drive back rather enjoyable, he thought blearily. Though he wouldn't have ever admitted it, the idea of being in a car, burns on his back and legs aggravated by the pressure and the demands of traffic had been a daunting one. But before they even attempted moving him, the doctors had dosed him with more painkillers than they had in days. He had been displeased about that, though he couldn't quite recall why at the moment.
A rush of air drew his attention to his right. Berwald was standing there, door open, the wheelchair they had appropriated from the hospital at his side. Sindre frowned at it and tried to stand on his own, but for some reason his legs weren't very supportive of that endeavor. It was only with Berwald's help that he managed to collapse into the chair, as opposed to on the ground.
He must have drifted out again, because suddenly he was at his door. Unless Berwald had mastered teleporting. He'd be upset if Berwald could teleport and hadn't ever told him. And then they were through the door and in the apartment, and he spared only a moment to wonder why there was no one there.
Valdi wouldn't be happy that he had deliberately left while he was in class, but Sindre was. He had seen Valdi's worry in the hospital, and he'd rather his brother just come home to Sindre already in the apartment. His little brother had already seen him weak enough; he didn't need to scare him more by rubbing any potential problems getting hom in his face.
Home. He was home. The rush of elation that brought eventually dulled into a sense of loss. He was home.
What now?
WHEN: Wednesday 25 May, Early afternoon
WHERE: Sindre's apartment
WHAT: Triumphant returns?
The cessation of movement had Sindre blinking slowly awake. He stared at the sight in front of him for a long moment, disoriented. Where were the bare walls of the hospital, the few flowers, the machines and stiff white linens?
Then his brain caught up with him. He was in his car, staring up at his building. He was wrapped in loose clothing, no one wanting to put undue pressure on his injuries. The flowers were in the back. He had been discharged.
He hated these drugs. Or, he tried to. It was hard to hate anything right now...
They did made the drive back rather enjoyable, he thought blearily. Though he wouldn't have ever admitted it, the idea of being in a car, burns on his back and legs aggravated by the pressure and the demands of traffic had been a daunting one. But before they even attempted moving him, the doctors had dosed him with more painkillers than they had in days. He had been displeased about that, though he couldn't quite recall why at the moment.
A rush of air drew his attention to his right. Berwald was standing there, door open, the wheelchair they had appropriated from the hospital at his side. Sindre frowned at it and tried to stand on his own, but for some reason his legs weren't very supportive of that endeavor. It was only with Berwald's help that he managed to collapse into the chair, as opposed to on the ground.
He must have drifted out again, because suddenly he was at his door. Unless Berwald had mastered teleporting. He'd be upset if Berwald could teleport and hadn't ever told him. And then they were through the door and in the apartment, and he spared only a moment to wonder why there was no one there.
Valdi wouldn't be happy that he had deliberately left while he was in class, but Sindre was. He had seen Valdi's worry in the hospital, and he'd rather his brother just come home to Sindre already in the apartment. His little brother had already seen him weak enough; he didn't need to scare him more by rubbing any potential problems getting hom in his face.
Home. He was home. The rush of elation that brought eventually dulled into a sense of loss. He was home.
What now?