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The sterile air was a starch contrast to the iron smell, something he’s radiated for a good few months after his unfortunate accident. Being unable to do the things he could usually do left him reeling for a time, but it allowed him to think. He rather thought about things far too much, and he began hating the sounds of his own inner mind. All he wanted was the faces of his crewmates, but no, it wasn’t the case. Curly couldn’t blame them really, the state of being rendering someone so human, charred to the crisp, roughed around the edges.
So he couldn’t blame Anya either really, his own inaction left him with a lot to think about. Too much of it of course, and it gave him a headache, amongst all the other pains left up to the cold and burning air nipping at the red muscle and sinews.
Pain was a constant variable, something he welcomed, something he despised. He couldn’t think of which was more that he was against, and that was something that scared him easily. Curly couldn’t have imagined what Anya was feeling and going through, and he could only reminisce.
He wonders, and wonders how he could’ve done so much differently.
Anya, oh Anya. If he could apologize, properly a time around, he would. For the thousand words of eternity, but that beach won’t end. Though, he wouldn’t mind, it’s something he deserved.
He wished he could turn, and see the state Anya was in. But he wouldn’t dare look any further, he couldn’t. Curly had the utmost of respect for her, but the image that would be burned into his mind would upset him far too much, so he just amends to the thought of her backside, sitting harshly against the red en masse of the curtain wall surrounding his bedsides.
He can hear sounds, grueling ones.
His one eye, the burned of any recognition to favor the fortune of closing his eyes when he sleeps — was rather gone, but it flits to the corner most of the curtain wall, right down to most of the silver iron ground.
Human sounds, and it wasn’t the kind ones. It rings familiar in his mind, and his chest heaves in anxiety. No fair, he really couldn’t help but be on the verge of tears.
The shining pink mass, groaning in clear pain.
Daisuke.
He could see the intern crawling out from the vent, hand clearly on his stomach. Curly could only guess that he was injured. The grunts of pain had made his guess evidently clear quickly enough, he couldn’t do anything to help, he was only rendered to watching the kid move with a limp that made Curly wince each and every time.
Curly watched as Daisuke’s gaze set on him, once they had looked at eachother with clear camaraderie, now it was just — despair, sadness, and somehow… relief.
“Cap–Curly,” Daisuke straggled on over to the gurney, his hand slamming down as he tried to balance himself. His eyes were closed, furrowed in pain. “M’sorry, ugghh.” His lips tightened, turning his head about, his forehead already beaded with sweat. Curly could see the blood pouring from the gash in Daisuke’s stomach, and as much as he wanted to do something, the lifted arms he had felt were clear as stumps. The reminder panged harshly, leaving his crossed over arms thumping against the mattress.
Daisuke heaved a heavy breath, a sharp intake punishing him as he watched the kid’s face contort into a grimace. He turned his eyes back to Curly, still as beaming as ever with hope. That easily reminded him.
‘I’m sorry Daisuke, that isn’t pain you should bear. Please forgive me.’
Another groan.
“Anya…” Daisuke’s voice cracked, and somehow, a little bit of light left the kid’s face. Curly almost winced at that, and he wished he could do something.
That was all that he was wishing for as of late. However his eye didn’t leave Daisuke’s form as he went over to the locked door, which very supposedly wasn’t. He could tell. That alone was clear as he watched Diasuke open the door, revealing Swansea with a shocked expression as the young man fell into his arms.
The trail of blood was clear, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind. It was burned without warning, as all things.
Curly thinks he saw a hibiscus bleed for the very first time in his life.