This is my collection of writing and comics about my OC, Joel Norwalk, that I've commissioned or received through Gaia Online. Some of my own comics may be spread around here.
Content:
Post 1. "Gatorade and parties" // college AU // written by Hint -- Your Name
Post 2. "In need of something" // comic in progress, closet AU // written and drawn by AphroditesChild
Post 3. "Always there" // closet AU // excerpt written by Saphire424
Post 4. "Aches and breaks" // canon superverse, a hospital tale // written by Bats R Us
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 4:41 pm
Gatorade and parties
written by Hint -- Your Name
"Look at those assholes. | Bro where'd you get Gatorade | and what's his a**. I don't know his ******** name, some weird | looked at the drinks twice bro just tell me | heard they're actual fags. And he's changing in a locker room with | not gonna share with you that's ******** gay | report it to someone. | for recovering like protein and s**t! I know what Gatorade | we should get an invitation. Norwalk. | tever man ******** you too. | Norwalk!"
Joel's head jerked up.
"What are you thinking about so hard?"
"Nah, I wasn't thinking," Joel said.
Vetters' lips peeled back into a smile. "No s**t. Were you listening while you weren't thinking?"
"Uh." His eyes wandered across the table, to Ferrell chugging blue juice and Dubar sulking, arms crossed. "Some s**t about Gatorade?"
Vetters snapped, "No, listening to me. About those two."
Joel looked over to where Vetters pointed, a little two-person table with exactly two people dining there. He thought he recognized one of them, but not with any certainty. His head hurt. Maybe he should be the one trying to steal Gatorade and recover proteins and s**t.
He shrugged. "I dunno 'em."
"He's the captain of the basketball team; everyone ******** knows him."
Joel squinted at the pair again. "Oh yeah. The blond guy." Tall ********, but looked prissy. Joel bet he could down him easy enough.
"The captain and his boyfriend," Vetters elaborated. He paused for Joel to make the requisite grossed out face and continued, "They're having some shitty party for advancing into the finals. Go get us an invitation."
"Why do we want to go to a shitty party?"
"To wish them well and make amends -- to ******** crash it, Norwalk. Get your head in the game."
Joel tched and rubbed his forehead. His head ******** hurt. "******** the party. If you want to jump them, just jump them."
"Spoken like a true black ******** off."
"This isn't your ghetto high school, Norwalk. We don't 'jump' people." Vetters fixed his cap and sat back in his chair. "Now take your ghetto self over there and get info on the ******** you," Joel muttered but pushed himself to his feet. It was only ever a matter of time before people succumbed to Vetters' demands -- well, among the baseball team at least. So Joel slouched over to the other table and interrupted with an eloquent, "Hey."
The two students looked up, and the not-captain (boyfriend? had Vetters been pissing on them or were they actually gay?) did a eyebrowshrug-sigh combo like this was the fifth telemarketer who'd called this hour.
Joel scowled at him. "What."
Captain smoothly intervened: "Did you need one of us for something?"
"Uh, yeah." Goddamn, his head pounded. What was he supposed to... right. "The party. There's a basketball party?"
"There," Captain admitted slowly, "is."
"Where's it at?"
"I believe Tom is hosting this time."
"Tom..." Joel scratched his shoulder. "White Tom or black Tom?"
"Tom Alvers."
He licked his lips. "...so... that's... bla--"
"White Tom," Captain said in pity.
"Aight. Tomorrow, right?"
"Tomorrow. Should I tell him to expect you...?" Captain tilted his head, awaiting a name. Like this was some ******** fancy-a** housewife dinner party, needing RSVPs.
"Nah, we just might stop by." Joel tried to edge away from the table, but Captain nabbed him with another question.
"We?"
"The, yeah, like the baseball guys."
/Oh/, Not-Captain's face said. Apparently that explained everything to him. Judgmental little ********. Well, he wasn't that little, and looked swoller than Captain. Joel would put less money on his chances of knocking Not-Captain down, but ******** if he wouldn't still jump into the ring.
"Right," Captain concluded with a terse smile. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow evening then."
"Yup."
Christ.
The party sucked d**k, and not in a good way.
Vetters rustled up the team around eleven, they got there eleven-thirty, and by midnight Joel was already six beers deep into an empty corner, trying to convince himself not to punch the wall every time the speakers rattled it with dubstep bass. He couldn't remember why it was a bad idea to punch the wall, except that it was, and anyway he couldn't remember whose house this was either. Not that he wouldn't fight any ******** here, but he'd like to know ahead of time whose fist he should expect in his face.
Which reminded him, he really wanted to punch this wall.
His surly tipsiness had convinced Vetters to exclude him from whatever raid they were planning. Probably something stupid. Vetters had pettiness aplenty, but no humor or creativity to go with it. Joel had never heard a decent prank come out of the guy's mouth; he wouldn't be missing much tonight.
His head ******** hurt.
His cup was empty(?). That seemed inaccurate, but he wasn't quite drunk enough yet to argue with an inanimate object. In lieu of words, he murdered the cup, crushing it between his hands, and tossed it at some shrill girl who kept shrieking these annoying ******** laughs. She shrieked at him too and he flipped her off, much to the discomfort of what Joel supposed was her boyfriend. Boyfriend was smarter than he looked. He correctly decided to shrug off the insult and take his girl elsewhere.
Joel slumped deeper into his corner. His cup was gone.
Well, ******** voice said, "You look mis'rable."
"Yup," Joel said automatically. Wait, he didn't know that ******** voice. "This spot's mine."
"Alright," the kid said, but in a really stupid way. Joel had heard the accent before somewhere. "'m not taking your spot."
He squinted up at the kid. Really was a kid. Small and brittle and shiny like wet bones. "What do you want?"
The kid smiled in a way that didn't quite make it to friendly and tucked some hair behind his ear. "Nah, thass more my question to you. Though I think I know the answer already."
"Try me."
"I think you'd rather be elsewhere."
Joel took a sluggish moment of consideration, and then conceded with a shrug. He couldn't remember why he hadn't already left. His head hurt too.
"So," the kid said, and Joel refocused with a squint, "would you like to leave for a bit?" He pulled something from his pocket, a little baggie with a cluster of colored pills.
Joel sat up. "What you got?"
"The usual ladies..."
In hindsight, Joel understood that the kid meant mary-j and molly and lucy and the like. But at the time, his brain scowled and prompted him to blurt: "I don't want any girls."
Kid took it with an easy laugh. "In that case, I'm afraid I've only boy to offer and I'm a little more money than the misses. But worth ******** off," Joel spat, jerking back like he'd been stung, "what the ********, man, I didn't mean it like ******** that."
Kid fussed with his hair, still so unconcerned that Joel figured he probably got that reaction once a night. "You look mis'rable."
"You said that already. This your usual selling shtick, goin' around ******** insulting people?"
"I'm jussaying. Endorphins and that, innit? Make you feel happy and you don't come down so hard from them as you do these." He jiggled the baggie at Joel, who scowled ******** that. I'm ******** good with beer."
"Beer don't take you nowhere. You're going to sit here another hour sad and mopey til you pass out."
Joel bared his teeth. "Yeah, that's what you ******** do at parties. I'm not buying your s**t, bro. And watch your ******** mouth -- if I wasn't drunk, I'd hit you for saying that gay s**t. Lotsa people here aren't drunk."
"Well," Kid smiled faintly, "your concern's very sweet." He tucked his baggie away and tipped his head in adieu. "If you're still awake, I'll come around again before I leave the party."
Joel closed his eyes. "Fine, whatever." Just shut the ******** up please.
"Still sounds stupid as s**t... You're Percy" "Heh! Considerate as always"
"Sooooo... you gonna answer that or what?"
"Nah. I don't need to ruin my day any more than I've done already."
"How are you doing these days, Joel?"
"The ******** are you asking that for? What the hell are you doing here anyway, Percy? Ain't you supposed to be behind the desk and take calls or something?"
"We... closed up 20 minutes ago. You've been here a while. Alone. In the dark"
"Uh, I see. I guess I'll pack up my things then? Get out of here?"
"No, it's fine. If you want to take a shower or train some more you can stay a bit longer"
"You sure? Don't people who stay behind get in trouble with coach Ramstein?"
"It's cool, dude. You look like you need to blow off some steam anyway. We can linger here for a while. Unless you want to grab a beer or something"
"Beer sounds like a much better idea"
"So who were you avoiding in the locker rooms?" "Shut your face Percy and let me get proper drunk first"
"You alright there, buddy?"
"Life hack for ya, scruff; nobody who chugs a can like that is 'alright'" "I guess that was a dumb question"
"Whatever. I feel like whining like a b***h"
"Long story short; my fiance left me last week"
"Oh. Wow... That's --- awful? I'm so sorry Joel"
"Eh, the sex wasn't that great anyway. Guess I should've seen it coming."
SOME TIME LATER
"...I mean, like what the fuuuuuuck does 'lack of passion' mean? The ******** that?"
LATER STILL
"Uuuuuuuuuuugh"
"Oooookay, how about I pay our tab and we find you a bed to sleep in?"
"You'd do that?"
"Hey, if you can't rely on the secretary, then who can you trust?"
"What's your address by the way?" "I have no clue... I just kinda... sleep somewhere my stuff is"
"Okay then; we'll go to my place"
"Awesome"
Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 5:20 am
Always there
excerpt written by Saphire424
It was the final straw in a whole s**t ton of hay. Nikita liked to take her goddamn time, didn’t she? Joel watched as she picked up and left with another infuriatingly small box, with just enough in it to say she meant it, and little enough to know she’d be back for more. Looking around at his apartment, now being slowly stripped down to the bare minimums, Joel realized how much she resembled a leech.
He wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this.
“Why the ******** are you taking that?” It was a small trinket, something that Nikita had wanted and he had (grudgingly) obliged. Joel couldn’t care less about the piece of s**t, but he hated his own powerlessness.
“Because it was bought for me and with my money.”
“b***h, your money? I bought it.”
“And who was the main income, yeah? You can’t box for s**t!” It wasn’t true; Joel was a great boxer, he just couldn’t keep to the rules long enough to get, or stay with, a decent contract. With a sassy saunter, Nikita slammed the door in his face. A door, mind you, that he quickly punched.
He was so not drunk enough.
With that thought, he quickly went about getting drunk enough. When he couldn’t remember his own address, his inhibited mind went instantly to another apartment. By the time Joel got there (swearing his head off to some unseen entity the entire time), it was some ungodly hour of a Saturday morning. He knocked angrily at the door.
When Parcell woke up, he immediately checked the clock.
[2:57]
With a sigh, he rolled over, hoping to fall asleep again, and quickly.
Knock, knock, KNOCK.
When Parcell finally opened the door, he was drawn between amusement and silent frustration. Rumpled from sleep (the kind he really wanted to get back to), he looked down at a very, very drunk Joel Norwalk.
“Where’s Percy? Parc- whatever the hell his name is.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Do I look like a ******** apparition? Damn it, just let me inside.” Parcell made a vague gesture, and Joel took it to mean go ahead. He pushed past the secretary and promptly fell not two feet in. A low groan made it known he was not yet unconscious.
“s**t.”
“How many did you have, my friend?”
“I don’t ******** remember! Where’s Parc- Percy? Where’s Percy?” Joel began to get up, wobbly knees unsteady on the even floor, and locked eyes with his very confused companion.
“I’m right here. Are you okay?”
“Do I ******** look okay? And you’re not him, he has curly hair.” Oh. Oh.
“Well, you see, I kind of… curl it.” The you-shitting-me face he got was worth it. “Hey, you dye yours, I don’t see the problem with it.”
Joel opened his mouth to comment, but something warm began circling around his legs. Parcell had a ******** cat. Joel was undone, and too drunk to recover. In one undignified, swooping motion and a meow later, Joel had a cat locked in arms. He was a mean drunk, but cats, man!
“Oh, that would be Betty. She’s my neighbor’s, but I take of her from time to time.” Undeterred, though slightly disappointed for an indiscernible reason, Joel collapsed on the nearest horizontal surface, this being the small couch. It sagged minutely as he collapsed in it, cat and all.
“Shouldn’t you be doing some kind of important s**t, Percy?” He slurred. The man in question only smiled and pointed to the small clock, currently reading the time.
“Probably sleeping, yeah.” Joel glared in response, though the fur-ball sitting on his chest significantly diminished the normal effect. “Speaking of sleep, you should probably get some yourself. Buddy, I know I don’t want to be you in the morning.”
Joel wanted to protest that he’d rather fight someone right now, but some part of him acknowledged the wisdom in his friend’s words. Without further complaint, he rolled over to his side, a disgruntled cat jumping over him. Parcell grabbed some aspirin and some water and set it on the stand next to the couch; Joel was going to have a hell of a headache in the morning and the fewer steps between him and pain-killers, the less likely something was going to be broken.
Parcell rubbed his face, and headed back to his own bed, praying that this time he would actually get some decent sleep.
Light streamed in through the window, and unfortunate design led the faint rays to land directly in the eyes of one Joel Norwalk; he was not amused. Mostly, he was in pain. With a low grumble, he began to sit up. Ah, aspirin right next to his perch. Thank every possible power for Percy. A quick look at the clock let him know that he ha slept the morning away.
“God dammit,” he swore, and loudly at that, “Percy do you have any Gatorade? Percy?”
There was no answer. One quick sweep of the apartment later and Joel finally found a small, handwritten note.
Have to work today, but if you want to come back later and talk, I’ll get off at 5:30. ~Parcell
He slammed the paper back down on the counter, and stormed out of the building. Oh, he would be back of course, but he had to pick up his things if he was going to stay for a while.
Percy had a feeling that he would find his friend at his apartment again, though he admitted that he didn’t expect this. Stuff littered around his couch, making his eyes twitch in slight annoyance, and in the heap was Joel.
“Took you ******** long enough.”
“I told you I’d be back after I got off, it’s only 6:00. Now what’s all this?”
“Nikita is moving her stuff out now.”
“You own the apartment though, why are you-” Something in Joel’s hand snapped, cheap plastic cracking under the angry man’s grip.
“Doesn’t mean I want to stay there!”
“Are you drunk? Again?”
“Yeah, you got a ******** problem with that?” Parcell’s face eased, and he gave an empathetic smile.
“No, just wondering if I need to buy some more aspirin.” Joel’s utter relief under the weight of his friend’s compassion was almost enough to break him, not that he’d ever admit it.
“I’m sorry.” He truly was, “I just can’t take it, you know? Damn that b***h, but she’s taking her goddamn time and I can’t be there when she does.”
“I understand, and you know you’re welcome to stay here if you need it.” Parcell was standing closer now, not quite touching, but enough for Joel to smell soap. It brought a feeling of home that his apartment could never have. “I don’t have a spare bed, but feel free to crash on the couch as long as you want”
The couch was fine, despite the sunlight he would have to deal with every morning (couldn’t the man invest in some better blinds?). There was also beer (and his own stash of Gatorade) in the fridge and a cat roaming around somewhere. What more did he need?
Parcell.
It didn’t matter what s**t Joel was going through; that man was like a rock, a foreign, easy-going rock. Friends like that were hard to come by, and he needed him, especially now. There was really no love left between him and Nikita, but there was still a sense of loss and he he couldn’t punch that. But Percy, damn he knew the right things to say, the best time to deflect the conversation and the best time to talk it out.
For something like this, Percy wasn’t touching it for at least another day. Joel needed to gather his own thoughts, and hell if Parcell was going anywhere near that. Joel wouldn’t let him, would be too afraid of what he might find.
Damn he was full of angst today.
“Don’t you have a match coming up soon?” Parcell pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Uh, yeah. ********, that’s next week isn’t it?”
“Did you forget?” Parcell honestly was surprised. He knew Joel couldn’t keep a contract very long, but to forget a match?
“No?” It was more of a question and they both knew it. “********, so I did. You’re not my mother, you don’t get to patronize me.”
“Joel Norwalk, you are living under my roof, and I can tell you what I want.” Percy said in high pitched, sassy voice, a parody of a mother’s phrase, before laughing his a** off at Joel’s face. The accent had only made it worse.
“Percy!” Joel flung himself at the slighter man, but Percy’s laugh was infectious and he ended up only pushing him against the counter before joining in.
He's knee-deep in dead bodies around him when the sounds of a kid shrieking for help stops him midway of a punch. The shrieks are too high pitched, too young, so he takes no time in punching out the last asshole and sprinting to where it's coming from. He comes face to face with another uniformed asshole, much like the many he just finished killing before, but the difference is that he has a kid in a headlock in front him.
And there's a bomb strapped to his chest.
He starts yammering about world domination, but Joel takes no time in thinking and just moves. Who has time to think in that situation? (A line he frequently uses in the near future whenever someone brings back this day). The fucker panics, probably expecting Joel to wait until after his monologue, and tosses the kid to the side, and presses the button to activate the bomb.
He manages to reach the kid and shield him just as it goes off. And even up until this day, he doesn't understand how he managed that.
Nevertheless, the bomb lands him in the hospital for two days.
The kid was safe, the nurse had told him when he woke up which was good news to hear. His news, though, not so much.
"Damage to your eardrums, first degree burns on your back and shoulder-"
He'd tuned them out after the first two injuries. He had better things to think about. Like resisting the urge to take the nurse's clipboard and flinging it out the window. Or beating himself with it for landing himself in here.
"Are there any emergency contacts that we would have to inform about your staying here?" This snaps him out of his reverie almost immediately and he quickly shuts that down with a "Fuck no." The nurse doesn't react to that, probably used to worse from other patients, and just nods, scribbles something down on the chart, and leaves. The last thing he needed was anybody ever finding out he got himself hospitalized. He would never be able to live something like this down.
It feels like hours have passed when really it had only been thirty minutes, and he's eyeing the window contemplating about how many ways he could and could not get (more) hurt jumping out of it, when he hears a familiar voice outside his room. He immediately thinks about jumping out of the window, no fucks given, but Jenny barges in before he can scramble off the bed and attempt to do so.
Hadn't he told the nurse "Fuck no"?
"How the hell did you know?" He croaks out, and after Jenny's finished sizing him up, she gives him this "Really?" look. But it isn't like the other looks she gives him - when she finds him drunk as fuck and passed out on the couch type look- because her eyes are beginning to glisten and she looks about ready to cry-
"No. Don't you fucking dare. If you start crying I'm jumping out of this window and I'm taking you with me."
That about pretty much snapped her out of it, and she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. She doesn’t say anything after that. Instead she opts to taking the empty seat next to his bed, and grabbing the remote off the brown nightstand. She turns the tv on, flips through some channels, and leaves it on a rerun episode of Friends.
It stays quiet for the next few minutes, until he can’t take it no more and finally says, “If you wanted to watch tv, then go fucking do it at home.”
Jenny ignores him, and continues to watch the tv but he’s pretty sure she’s doing it in favor of ignoring him and that pisses him off even more. She has the remote in her hand so he ignores the burst of pains that passes in his torso, and launches himself to the side to grab the remote. She doesn’t let him though, moving faster than he could right now and moving the remote away from his reach.
“Give me the damn remote. I’m turning the tv off.”
“No, I’m watching it.”
“I don’t give a fu.ck if you’re watching it. If you came here for that then get the fuck out.”
“Fuck you.”
He recoils at that because Jenny doesn’t usually curse. Not so bluntly anyways. He was always the one who did the cursing. And he cursed near damn enough that no one ever had to curse because he had it covered. But there was no way he was going to let that go. He was tired, fed up, and had no damn alcohol. “If you think-”
“Fuck. You. Joel. You think I’m here for some damn tv? I’m here, asshole, because I fucking got a call that you were in the hospital. In the hospital for crying out loud! My heart fucking dropped. I thought you were-” She stops there, doesn’t bother to finish because then it would sound too real.
His mouth is suddenly dry, and he’s staring at her, and fuck, how could he be so insensitive?
“Jenny-”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. You're clearly alive. But I’m not moving from here so you're gonna have to suck up my tv choices.” She finishes with that, and goes back to watching the sitcom. He nods, and doesn’t bother voicing any opposition. He’s done more than enough.
It's passed half an hour when his mother and brother finally arrive. Jenny’s spoken with him a few times after she called him out on his shit so he’s relieved with that. But the feeling gets replaced with embarrassment because as soon as his adoptive mother walks in, she’s all up in his personal space placing kisses all over his face. He doesn’t bother to push her away or stop it. He’s too tired to and she probably thought the same thing Jenny did when she called her. So she deserved this. For a little while anyways.
Fortunately, Anthony comes to his rescue and pulls their mom away. She’s got about half a mind to start protesting, but she must’ve seen how tired he looked because she just shook her head and let Anthony move her.
“Thanks.” He says, and Anthony nods sitting himself on an empty spot on the bed. Joel goes to move over to make more space for him but Anthony stops him with an “I’m good.” He’s grateful he does, because Joel’s pretty sure he wouldn’t had been able to move anyways. His body is finally feeling the pain, and it’s only increasing his need for alcohol. “How are you feeling?” Anthony asks him, and he shrugs and then hisses from the pain such a small movement elicits. Man, fuck this.
“Like fucking shit. I’m pretty sure being superhuman or whatever should eliminate this crap.”
Jenny snorts at that, and his mother just shakes her head.
“Joel, we’re still human despite your superhuman strength or whatever. You can still-” Anthony stops himself, clears his throat, and continues. “We can still get hurt. Pretty bad, apparently.” No one talks about Anthony’s almost slip up. Instead, his mother voices that she’s going to get coffee and Jenny tags along for some candy from the vending machines. He’s pretty much left with Anthony in the room, and this could be his only chance.
“Would you-”
“I’m not getting you beer. Or any alcoholic drink for that matter. Why? Are you in pain? I can get a nurse.”
He groans, because that was not supposed to go the way he had planned it. Then again, all he had envisioned was himself telling Anthony to get him fucking beer and Anthony would get it. It was far from foolproof. “I’m fine.” He answers and pushes Anthony away from him. Or tries to. His arms don’t want to cooperate with him at this point.
Anthony eyes him, almost contemplating something, and before Joel can tell him to fuck off, he’s saying “When was the last time you slept properly? Or ate, for that matter.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were my fucking mother.” He snaps back, but Anthony pays no mind to it already used to his foul mouth. He almost wished he didn’t curse so much so he catch people off-guard. Almost.
“Right. That about pretty much sums it up. You should get some sleep.”
“No, you should get some fucking sleep.” He snaps back and that only proves Anthony’s point even more, so he opts to closing his eyes (before he says anything even more stupid) and actually trying to sleep. Thing is, it doesn’t work. His mind’s on full alert despite his body just wanting to collapse. He can hear Anthony moving about quietly - shuffling things about - before he turns off the tv and sits on the chair next to him. It’s highly annoying because now that he’s got this task to do, to just sleep, his mind wants to screw him over. This week was really not going his way. But at least he saved a kid, so that had to mean something right?
“Is he supposed to be sleeping? Because I’m pretty sure someone’s face is not supposed to look like they’re eating a whole pack of sour patch candy when they’re sleeping.” Jenny’s voice resonates through the room, and Anthony starts full out laughing. He opens his eyes, and manages to flip both of them just as his mother walks in. She only looks around the room amused, before turning to tell him that his father won’t be able to make it. Something about an issue within in the company. He didn’t care. The less people who saw him in this state, the better. Plus, he was perfectly fine with his foster mom, his foster brother, and his sis from another fam right there with him. He’d never tell them that though.
“Hey! Who turned off the tv? I was watching that!”
“First of all, you left the room for candy. Second of all, Joel needs to sleep so I turned it off.”
“Who are you, his mother?”
“Exac-fucking-tly!” He says from his position on the bed, that he’s been on for hours, but Anthony and Jenny ignore him to continue their bickering. He tries to get something else in the conversation, but he’s all out of energy to shout it and his mother ends up breaking it up anyways.
“If I remember correctly, his eardrums were slightly damaged from being so near the bomb when it exploded. So please, let’s keep the voices to their minimum. Joel needs his rest.”
‘Fuck yeah, you tell them mom!’ is what he wants to say. “Yea, what she said..” Is what he says instead, and that only earns him sympathetic looks from all the occupants of the room. It makes him want to throw himself out the window again.
“Okay, how about this? Let’s put something on that everybody wants to watch, and we’ll keep quiet around Joel so he can sleep.” His mother says and she puts down her coffee cup on the nightstand next to him. The smell of coffee almost makes him want to throw the coffee out the window instead of himself.
“Wait, is that supposed to be a solution?”
“Jenny, just eat your skittles and hush. We’re doing this.”
“You heard her. Check to see if they have some sci-fi marathon going on.”
“I’m pretty sure I speak for everyone in this room when I say no. We have enough scientific stuff going on around our lives, Anthony.”
“Thank you! Let’s put something actiony-”
“Actiony isn’t a word.”
“Who made you the king of deci…”
~
He wakes up to the light filtering through the blinds, and the sound of machinery whirring and beeping. He almost forgets where he was until the memories from the day before hit him like a rock. “Fucking a…” He mumbles to himself as he rubs his eyes. They feel dry as hell, but not as bad as his throat and he reaches for the water on the nightstand with his left hand, something heavy is holding down his right arm, but instead of a cup of water, he knocks over an empty coffee cup. “What the hell?” He says, and that’s when he finally realizes what’s holding him down. Jenny’s cuddled up beside him. Hers head on his chest, and she’s holding on to his right arm tightly as if she’s afraid of letting it go (he snorts at this because that wasn’t how Jenny was. Right?). He tries to lessen the grip but any movement only makes her shuffle closer, and he grimaces at the sudden pain that causes. Fuck bombs in the ass, honestly.
He gives up at detaching himself, and opts to looking around the room instead. His mother’s cuddled up on the chair,- her body’s scrunched up together in the little chair but there’s no sign of uncomfortability so that’s good - a thin blanket covering her body. Anthony had somehow managed to scrounge up another chair, because he was currently passed out in another one with his legs propped up on the tiny a** table Joel was supposed to eat food from. There’s a thin blanket on him, too, but it’s covering his face (probably to block out the light coming from the hallway) and torso, completely leaving the rest of his body uncovered. There’s one more person in the room, and he’s laying on top of bench near the windows. There’s a blanket covering the openings of the heater that are on top of the bench, probably to make it more comfortable, while they use their coat to cover themselves. And judging from the faded letters printed on the back of it, it can only be one other person.
His dad must’ve came when he was passed out.
He’s wondering how exactly they allowed his whole family to stay in the room, but he ends up dismissing the thought in the end. It was way too early to be thinking (he later finds out from the nurse that Jenny and his mom had a ‘breakdown’ and ended up convincing the staff to let them stay. ‘I’ve never seen such theatrics in my life’ is what she says. It’s not his fault if he removed all his records from that hospital after he was let go). He can’t move so he has no choice but to lay back down, and try to go back to sleep. It comes easier this time around, still having been half-asleep when he had surveyed the room, so he drifts off with no problem.
He falls back asleep with the thought in his mind that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad to be hospitalized sometimes.
