For
kytyngurl2
His hair is the surest sign someone has been there. It's spread out over the pillow, still a deep gold, even in the dim lights.
His nurse knows why people have been playing with his hair. With one arm missing, and the other covered in bandages and tubes, there's no hand to hold. And nobody wants to sit at the foot of the bed.
That leaves his face, and his hair.
And his face is pale and still. The only part of him that still flows with life is his hair.
It's been washed clean of the blood. Something the nurses hadn't done. One of the night nurses had come in on his brother holding a barely damp cloth, cleaning the hair one tiny section at a time. Another had found the brunette girl with glasses braiding a section of the clean hair. She obviously started something. Ever time the General came in, he would sigh and produce a comb from someone to carefully take out the multitude of tiny braids that sprang up in the unconscious man's hair.
Mostly, people would pet it. As if that was enough for them.
It seemed harmless enough, and it didn't get in their way, so none of the nurses ever had to lecture about it to anyone. Though they talked about it to one another.
"It's like their good luck charm, almost," said the night nurse who had seen the brother washing the hair. "All of them do it."
His head nurse nodded. "I think they're trying to call him back." A pause. "I hope it works. They all look so lost."
The other nurses who had seen the visitors agreed. That was a trend they had noticed. Guilt, they expected. It was common in friends and family of attempted suicides. But the lost looks were somewhat of a surprise.
But when they touched him, when they let that thick golden hair slide around their fingers, the lost looks disappeared. The tension eased and they looked as if they were confident he would wake up.
"It'll work," said another of the nurses, his pose relaxed. "They want it too bad for it not to work."
And that was the last they said about it.
I'm not sure how much you'll enjoy it,
kytyngurl2, but I hope it eases those Quest cravings.
Happy belated birthday!
His hair is the surest sign someone has been there. It's spread out over the pillow, still a deep gold, even in the dim lights.
His nurse knows why people have been playing with his hair. With one arm missing, and the other covered in bandages and tubes, there's no hand to hold. And nobody wants to sit at the foot of the bed.
That leaves his face, and his hair.
And his face is pale and still. The only part of him that still flows with life is his hair.
It's been washed clean of the blood. Something the nurses hadn't done. One of the night nurses had come in on his brother holding a barely damp cloth, cleaning the hair one tiny section at a time. Another had found the brunette girl with glasses braiding a section of the clean hair. She obviously started something. Ever time the General came in, he would sigh and produce a comb from someone to carefully take out the multitude of tiny braids that sprang up in the unconscious man's hair.
Mostly, people would pet it. As if that was enough for them.
It seemed harmless enough, and it didn't get in their way, so none of the nurses ever had to lecture about it to anyone. Though they talked about it to one another.
"It's like their good luck charm, almost," said the night nurse who had seen the brother washing the hair. "All of them do it."
His head nurse nodded. "I think they're trying to call him back." A pause. "I hope it works. They all look so lost."
The other nurses who had seen the visitors agreed. That was a trend they had noticed. Guilt, they expected. It was common in friends and family of attempted suicides. But the lost looks were somewhat of a surprise.
But when they touched him, when they let that thick golden hair slide around their fingers, the lost looks disappeared. The tension eased and they looked as if they were confident he would wake up.
"It'll work," said another of the nurses, his pose relaxed. "They want it too bad for it not to work."
And that was the last they said about it.
I'm not sure how much you'll enjoy it,
Happy belated birthday!
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;____; That makes me so sad... :( I like how braiding his hair was a means for them to wish him back. It's kind of like praying, but not.
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Nice angsty stuff.
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BTW, in IRC.
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*doing hw* ;.;
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Good luck on the homework.
*is still proud with how the story came out, especially since she's doped up*
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....why are you doped up?
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*pouts* And I'm hungry, but no food in house until Wen.
Wiat, bread. Will munch on bread.
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This does help quite a bit with those cravings! How sweet... and I like the concept: Them braiding and playing with Ed's hair because they can't hold his hand/there is nothing else they can do. Mmm, bittersweet. And using the nurse POV was cool!
Much love and joy! *hugs* Thank you so very much!
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I'm glad you liked it.
Strange POVs are starting to be my thing, I think.
*hugs* Happy birthday again.
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