22 - Desperately wanting...
[walks into his apartment, a sack of medical supplies in his left hand as he cradles the right one against his chest. He's fighting back a wave of nausea & dizziness as he makes his way to the bathroom, praying he makes it without running into anyone.]
Note to self: While punching the wall may seem like the better alternative, it's less damaging just to slug someone in the face.
[with a weary sigh, he sets the bag down on the counter, shutting & locking the bathroom door. This was going to be harder than he had originally thought, as he definitely wasn't left-handed. But his pride was getting the best of him; he didn't want to admit to Dean, or anyone for that matter, that he had taken his frustrations out on a wall & lost.]
Stupid wall. Stupid other!Sam. Stupid broken hand. Stupid me.
[swears under his breath as he resets the bones in his hand, tears springing to his eyes -- but are they just from the pain, or is it something more? Sam carefully wraps the injured appendage with cotton padding initially before placing the metal splint along the top of his forearm, adding more padding for cushioning. A roll & a half of Ace bandages later, his hand looks like it doesn't even belong to him anymore.]
Figures that it would have turned out like this. & why does it not surprise me in the slightest that this batshit crazy city would make me fall in love with the other me? He doesn't even love himself, so of course he can't love anyone else.
Now all I have to show for this whole stupid thing is a broken hand, this overwhelming sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, an aching in my chest, & a wounded ego. Fuckin' fantastic.
Actually... that's not entirely true. [blushes at the memory as his left hand touches his neck where a trail of dark hickeys were sitting pretty. A smile sits on his lips as he leaves the bathroom, walking to the kitchen to "borrow" Dean's bottle of Jack Daniel's.]
Note to self: While punching the wall may seem like the better alternative, it's less damaging just to slug someone in the face.
[with a weary sigh, he sets the bag down on the counter, shutting & locking the bathroom door. This was going to be harder than he had originally thought, as he definitely wasn't left-handed. But his pride was getting the best of him; he didn't want to admit to Dean, or anyone for that matter, that he had taken his frustrations out on a wall & lost.]
Stupid wall. Stupid other!Sam. Stupid broken hand. Stupid me.
[swears under his breath as he resets the bones in his hand, tears springing to his eyes -- but are they just from the pain, or is it something more? Sam carefully wraps the injured appendage with cotton padding initially before placing the metal splint along the top of his forearm, adding more padding for cushioning. A roll & a half of Ace bandages later, his hand looks like it doesn't even belong to him anymore.]
Figures that it would have turned out like this. & why does it not surprise me in the slightest that this batshit crazy city would make me fall in love with the other me? He doesn't even love himself, so of course he can't love anyone else.
Now all I have to show for this whole stupid thing is a broken hand, this overwhelming sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, an aching in my chest, & a wounded ego. Fuckin' fantastic.
Actually... that's not entirely true. [blushes at the memory as his left hand touches his neck where a trail of dark hickeys were sitting pretty. A smile sits on his lips as he leaves the bathroom, walking to the kitchen to "borrow" Dean's bottle of Jack Daniel's.]