morphinous haze consumes, analgesic lacing its tendrils into physicality and psyche alike. idle thoughts skitter across the forefront of his mind, important, demanding --- but each time he musters the strength to fixate on one, it dissipates back into the fog he lives / dies in. he would be frustrated if he could, but instead he just lolls cushioned head haphazardly to his right, his long, dark lashes aflutter in the direction of ------ brooke!
weighted lids blink at her, each time more languid than the last. she looks . . . small in the chair tucked neatly beside hospital bed, something he has never thought about her before. her presence usually fills up the room, but the air surrounding them, he notices, is flat --- suffocating, even. he blinks again, one fleeting thought straggling behind for just long enough that he might grab hold of it, and then he remembers why he had been engineered for a merciful few moments to forget. thick lump forming in throat is swallowed down, down, down into the depths of his belly, a single tear rounding the apple of his cheek from lids which have since fixed themselves shut. he cannot bring himself to say anything in response to what she whispers to him then, but fumbling hand seeks hers out and he offers up three squeezes, one for each word he cannot yet will himself to say.