Note: Backdated to approx. 2 weeks after Shooting Stars

Colin lay on what he'd been told was an Invacare Carroll CS7 model bed, listlessly watching daytime TV; he'd been sedated, his medication keeping him far more still than he'd ever been normally so that his battered body could heal.

At his bedside table (and spread out along the window sill) there were flowers and cards, small stuffed animals and other knick-knacks; each from friend or family member, each received with a smile and as much drummed up excitement as Colin could muster - depending on whom had brought the item(s). He'd just recently been cleared for longer visits, which was nice, but he'd not had time to do more than text a few choice people before his medication had knocked his eyebrow-less a** out.

His mother had been in earlier, fussing and fretting over him, and she'd left him his laptop but the blond didn't feel any sort of need to raise the head of the bed so he could sit up and use it. By doctor's orders, he was taking it easy - not that he could have ignored said orders with the medication(s) they had him on, but still. He was trying.

He was also already bored.


frayedhana
COME GIVE HIM SOME COMPANY PLZ.