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This Ain't Chik-Fil-A

Tommy was leaning further over in his bed towards the voices on the other side of the curtain, barely even paying attention to Matt any more.

"Hey. Heeeeeey! You are not to disturb him, Horace! That was what I was told!" He shouted, and then turned back to Matt and grinned.

"I remember you now! We sparred once~" He blinked a couple of times then, and laughed.

"I am in extreme amounts of pain! I just believe that positivity and, I don't know, maybe some fresh air one could only get if they were say, discharged, might be able to get is the absolute best form of healing! Come onnnnn, doc. What do you say? Going to let me get out of here today?"

Big, innocent, puppy dog eyes were given.

Swiper No Swiping

"But... it was me," Oliver whimpered, glancing up with a hazy, pleading expression. "I was just... so angry, and I don't even know why, but I was, and I couldn't stop myself..."

It was hard to describe while so heavily medicated, but it didn't feel like he was being controlled or anything. The anger might have spurred him on, but it was his own actions that had done the damage.

Self-Medicating

Some time after Horace's visit, Oliver had drifted off into a long nap. When he finally woke it was later in the evening, and the lights were dim. Had he had slept through dinner? Before waiting for his drowsiness to clear completely, he hesitantly reached for his phone. Not for Twitter, he wasn't ready for that. But he was maybe kind of hungry, so he slowly poked out a short text. It seemed like an easier option for the sleepy kid than to just call out across the curtain.

Matt looked at Tommy vaguely remembering him from a spar with electric bolts being shot at him. “Oh yea I remember that one, the performer, not the worse spar I had to face but still hurt I had a few bruises in return from that.”

A wider grin appeared on his face as he flipped through a couple of pages as part of himself felt like completely lying as some sort of small pay back from the bolts, but the thought of not at least being professional over the matter won. “Chart says you have two or more days depending on your status soooooo I don’t think in all good health I could say yes to that idea, sorry.” Getting to his feet he peeked over at Oliver, from hearing him speak he could assume that he was along the same status as Tommy in terms of healing. At least both were able to talk and obviously getting bored with lying around all day in beds. Checking a couple of things on the machines, fluids and scribbling a few more notes down Matt put the pen away into his pocket and headed to the door.

“There aren’t a lot of people on shift so if you want to go wondering about I won’t know anything about it nor care just make an attempt to show back up when I have to go on rounds again.” Waving a goodbye, Matt left the patients alone to do as they pleased and chatting to their guest.

Self-Medicating

Tommy had long since escaped his restraints, and as Matt had said, the infirmary was not so busily staffed that he had been able to wander around aimlessly for most of the day without reprimand. The fact that he didn't actually try to leave the infirmary probably helped, but whatever the case, they did not bother putting his restraints back on him again when he returned to his bed, leaving him free to play on his phone as he wished.

If he wished. Which he generally didn't. What he really wanted was to go outside and run, or do his exercises, or yoga, or god just anything really.

So it was that when his phone chimed at him, he was staring up at the ceiling, cursing his time in the infirmary.

Reaching over to his tray to grab his phone, he looked at the message on the screen.

Two eyebrows slowly rose, and he set his phone back down.

"Yes we did." He said, loud enough for Oliver to hear him. "Or, I did at least. Do you not have any?" There was concern in his voice for the question.

Swiper No Swiping

Oliver looked away. He wanted to believe that he hadn't been responsible, that after such uncharacteristically savage actions he could say it wasn't his doing and maintain his innocence. But if he had done it once, there was still something within him that was capable of doing it again. Viruses never really went away...

He felt violated. With that realization the tears started anew, and it was hard to know which thought was worse, being responsible for his actions, or having been moved to perform them without his own volition.

"How do I make it better..." The boy whimpered, finally making a successful attempt at wiping his eyes with his left hand.

pieces to pieces

Oliver had not been busy. There was not much to do in the infirmary with Tommy off wandering and bed rest still being the prescription of choice, yet the solitude and abject boredom didn't leave the kid irritable. It was time he could use to reflect upon what had happened. Time to perhaps torture himself with thoughts that lying there healing was not penance enough for what he had done, or try to reconcile that violence with his gentle personality.

He had made his apologies to both Horace and Dawson, and while he had faced the former, all he had for the latter was words on a screen, typed out while entrenched in a fit of woeful emotional agony and under the influence of much pain medication. Oliver had been too afraid to message another apology after that, and come up with many possible plans to deliver apology candy without getting caught.

So when Dawson burst in, catching him unprepared and off guard, all Oliver could do was stare, wide-eyed and mouth agape, like a deer caught in the headlights. "D-Dawson- I'I'm... I-I..."