“So I was wondering if, uh, I’m still allowed to take you on that real date after this?”
Once claws marks healed and mirror-carved wounds closed, busted nose didn’t need tape over it and cracked ribs became uncracked again. At least Nancy had minimal injuries. Still bloodless and drawn in the face but not strapped to a hospital bed. It was uncomfortable: the paper sheets, the airy hospital gown, the snug bandages and tight stitchings. He could barely move without ache or fear of ripping something back open.
But she was safe. And it was her sitting at his side now, instead of his lachrymose mother or over-bearing father. Both were loving and well-loved but were not who he always needed at his side. Room had to be made for others--like Nancy. Like Nancy, who more than anyone understood what he went through. It was a joint experience. They were a pair of conjoined trauma twins now.
Quentin wished he could hug her. But instead he nudged a thin hand out from under pale sheet, reaching out for her but not touching yet.
“Sorry, probably should hold off on that kind of question. Are you holding up okay? No more...nightmares?”
starter for @skreamqueens
