heart in his throat, connor looks away from his text messages, pillows his head back, and shuts bruised eyes tight.
moments before drifting off, he wonders if his anxiety surrounding markus' visit will keep him awake. the course of antibiotics and painkillers, however, meant to stave off any potential infection and pain respectively, lay him out flat. those few minutes of dreamless sleep are desperately needed but interrupted by the faint knocking, lucid enough to turn his face to utter a groggy welcome to his visitor— and immediately wishes he wasn't.
markus' state makes his jaw clench around the urge to choke on a dry sob and turn away from him, forcing himself to look — really look — at the damage he's caused.
his breaths come out of him in shakes, trying in vain to keep them quiet. it's impossible, given what he sees and feels and remembers, wanting to strip himself of it all for both of their sakes. but activating his ability now would be a grave insult to a friend who finally deserves the truth and a jarring throwback to a fight that scares him. he lost control of himself again. he made himself into an unfeeling machine, like months ago when he was faced with a similar dilemma.
just how far will he go next?)
Come in, I'm— (connor thought he could manage to speak much more than an apology, but the rest of whatever he was going to say sticks to the back of his tongue like tar.
instead, there's a weak motion to the chair next to him with the free hand that isn't strapped to his chest by a sling, middle finger pinched by an unnecessary heart monitor.)
no subject
heart in his throat, connor looks away from his text messages, pillows his head back, and shuts bruised eyes tight.
moments before drifting off, he wonders if his anxiety surrounding markus' visit will keep him awake. the course of antibiotics and painkillers, however, meant to stave off any potential infection and pain respectively, lay him out flat. those few minutes of dreamless sleep are desperately needed but interrupted by the faint knocking, lucid enough to turn his face to utter a groggy welcome to his visitor— and immediately wishes he wasn't.
markus' state makes his jaw clench around the urge to choke on a dry sob and turn away from him, forcing himself to look — really look — at the damage he's caused.
his breaths come out of him in shakes, trying in vain to keep them quiet. it's impossible, given what he sees and feels and remembers, wanting to strip himself of it all for both of their sakes. but activating his ability now would be a grave insult to a friend who finally deserves the truth and a jarring throwback to a fight that scares him. he lost control of himself again. he made himself into an unfeeling machine, like months ago when he was faced with a similar dilemma.
just how far will he go next?)
Come in, I'm— (connor thought he could manage to speak much more than an apology, but the rest of whatever he was going to say sticks to the back of his tongue like tar.
instead, there's a weak motion to the chair next to him with the free hand that isn't strapped to his chest by a sling, middle finger pinched by an unnecessary heart monitor.)