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Post by Jasmine Richardson on Jan 8, 2007 22:52:12 GMT -5
The afternoon was warm, but comfortable, and J.R. was finished with her work for the day. Possibly for the week. She had gotten a lot of sketching done, she'd been on a real roll for a while, and the next step were a few finishing touches that could be added later than night. But for the day, there were a few things that she needed to do.
And one of them, was visit the hospital. Not to be visiting any patients, all of the people she knew were either healthy, or her uncle, but she'd seen him earlier that day, and he was in a mood. No, she was there, just in case. She liked to be around when there was nothing going on. You never know.
Wearing a pair of jeans and a tank-top, she wandered the halls. The top was of her own making. She'd added any tears that were in it, along with the beading and color, and she was very proud of it. She was in the process of selling it for a good deal of money to some popular store she didn't care the name of.
Ambercrombie and limited or something. Her hair was left to fall down her back and her shoes made light tapping noises as she walked. When Junior passed anyone she knew, they exchanged hellos, but she was a little busy in her own mind to really stop and chat. When the time came, she would head back to her uncle's room, but now was a little soon. He didn't need to be throwing things again.
There was one rom that did catch her attention, though. There was a man inside, but he didn't look so great. Sure, if he was healthy, he would probably have been one of the best looking guys she'd ever met, not that there was much competition, but looking at him through the glass, he was laying in his bed and he just looked... sick. It was a hospital, so that's not really a suprise, but he looked worse than just sick. Uncomfortable, even, but there wasn't anybody else around at that moment. Not really thinking about it, Jas went to the door of his room, opened it and stepped inside.
"Are you okay?"
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Post by Ryan D a r c y on Jan 9, 2007 20:31:29 GMT -5
i`m black and blue all over
 . .
The mind numbing silence of this hospital, or more specifically his room, was stifling, and it rang throughout his ears in a tone that made his heart break over and over again, for reasons he could not describe, or even wish to attempt to explain. Maybe it was the fever, or the fact he refused to open his eyes because seeing things in a way he never had before frayed and pulled upon is agitated nerves. Normally loud noises made him slightly nervous, which, given his history was more than perfectly understandable, but now, when the silence washed over in one smooth motion, until he wasn't quite sure if time had stopped, he wished for the loud noises that usually made him wince. Ryan was a strong man, not so much physically as he was emotionally and mentally, at least in the regular pattern of daily life, but take something away or alter something and he was suddenly off balance without a single thing to hold onto. And Ryan desperately needed things to hold on to. The blankets felt as if they were crushing his frame, and though he was not slight or sickly in shape, the muscle weakness he had been experiencing made it extremely difficult for him to move much, at least not without becoming exhausted. Ryan Darcy was an extremely independent man, for the simple reason that he couldn't trust anyone else to help him with anything. He took in a deep breath, aware his mouth was parched and his throat was almost on fire, probably from the lack of fluids he consumed in the past few days due to his general weakness and disinterest in performing any motion other than what was absolutely necessary.
He swallowed, refusing to think himself miserable and stared absently at the wall across from him, from beneath half closed lids. He licked his dry lips and tried not to think about anything that required no more thought then he wanted, or really needed. The sliding of the door registered just a mere second before a clear voice rang through his ears, causing him to flinch instinctively. He tried but failed immediately to sit up, and blinked quickly, throwing a haphazard and slightly frayed gaze toward the door, and his eyes, though his vision was considerably affected by the certain symptom, meaning nothing looked quite as it should, he knew it was a woman. He drew in a quick breath, making all attempts to appear outwardly calm and as composed as one in his situation could muster. Once he comprehending her question he swallowed, wondering blankly why she could possibly have singled out his room to ask if he were okay. There were dozens of patients on this floor alone who were probably worse off than he. He stuttered, just a slight, faltering bit when he first spoke, his voice hoarse and dry.
“I’m fine…thirsty is all.”
Normally he hated admitting he was anything other than fine, which stemmed from his general dislike of his previously mentioned aversion to being anything other than independent. But his current condition made him just as weak mentally as he was physically.
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Post by Jasmine Richardson on Jan 9, 2007 20:49:22 GMT -5
It wasn't hard to see that her sudden voice was about as wanted as it was expected. She felt a little bad for barging in, but not enough to really register in her mind. She was too curious to care, and she also was a little worried. Why weren't an of the nurses in here helping him? Or, wh hadn't he called for any of them to come, when he was so clearly in distress? Jasmine might have left after he said that he was fine, but he also said he was thirsty. Thirsty people tended to drink, it was kind of a helpful thing for them, but he wasn't making an attempt to get to the pitcher that was on the table across from the bed. He didn't look like he was in any condition to get up, and clearly he wasn't going to ask for help. That only left Jas with one option, and she took it without blinking.
Walking into the room all the way so that she could close the door behind her, she went over tot he pitcher and poured some of the cool water into the cup that was beside it. When it was three fourths full, she set the pitcher back down and took the cup to the man still in his bed. J.R. stood by the bed and held the glass out to him, near his head so that he could take it from her. She doubted that he would feel at all good about her holding it to his mouth, so she didn't. Hopefully he would have it in him to lift his arm and be able to drink on his own, that was easier than standing and walking.
While she watched him, she almost felt bad for him. She'd spent enough time in hospitals to be used to sickly people, and she didn't pity them. But the tone of his voice, the look on his face... It was just so depressing. He had a way about him like his heart was broken a million times and he had no hope, and was just waiting to die without having fulfilled any purpose... What could have happened to him? Jas almost wanted to know if there was anything she could do, but she didn't ask. They didn't know each other, and chances were, there wouldn't be a single thing that she could do for him. He had to have family of his own to turn to.
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Post by Ryan D a r c y on Jan 10, 2007 21:47:30 GMT -5
Bitter and hardened heart
aching waiting for life to start
..
Weakness, ironically, was the only thing that could bring Ryan down. Mentally or physically, it mattered not which kind. Most of the time he was able to hide it and then it wouldn't matter whether he was weak or not. He hadn't meant to start in anyway, it was just a natural reaction that was left over from his days of constantly anticipating another beating, another cruel joke that fate decided to play on him that particular moment. He hated that trait about him, as much as he hated his past, but probably even more. That was what made him appear weak, though in this case it was probably the high fever and CFS like symptoms that were bringing him to this all time weakness.
He studied her face as best he could, wishing desperately his vision wasn't so affected so as he could have the opportunity to see who this woman, kind as she was, though slightly odd for coming into a hospital room just because he looked like he needed help. But whatever the reason, his usually calm murky eyes were shaded a silent hue of cursed worry and slight fear. Not because he didn't know exactly what was wrong with him, no he could handle that fine, but because he didn't know if he could accept whatever it was. Sure, if it was treatable, all the better for him, but what if this was permanent? The aching he could tolerate, he handled pain every day… but… he had always thought the pain he had to handle had been given to him for a reason, for example, his emotional pain. He believed it was punishment for not trying to save his mother from that bottle. He didn't know how he could have, at so young an age, but the guilt was ever present, and probably would be forevermore.
He licked his dry lips absently, mostly because he needed something physical to focus on, and turned his head, following her as she approached, then watched as she poured the water into the cup. He swallowed subconsciously, hoping she wouldn't assume he was too weak to do it himself, and he was relieved to find she had no such thought, as she held the cup out to him. Instead of immediately taking it, he studied her with his eyes, the intense focus he presented everyone even more prominent in this setting. It was a few moments of silence, his eyes questioning, appreciative, and that slight ever present stab of fear that hid behind them. Then, slowly because he could afford no quicker motion, he wrapped his fingers around the glass, taking his eyes from hers to concentrate on his slightly trembling fingers. His muscles protested, but he managed to lift the cup to his lips and take a sip, that lasted only about five seconds, before he swallowed and unable to take another sip, probably from the almost numbing exhaustion that one movement had felt, he held out the cup to her, trying not to let her see his fingers shaking. He attempted to form words of thanks, but his mind and voice would not cooperate.
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Post by Jasmine Richardson on Jan 11, 2007 13:40:21 GMT -5
Jasmine watched with a careful eye as the man in front of her picked the cup from her hand. As he drank, Jas let herself look him over a bit, the pale color of his skin and the way his face looked worse than exhausted. Even worse than that was the look in his eyes when he had taken his own liberty to examin the strange girl that had walked into his room. The way he looked almost afraid of her, or afraid of something at least, it could break a persons heart. Not really Jasmine's, but it did add a bit of worry to her curiosity. Was this patient terminal, or was he simply just in a bad way mentally, which made his illness look a lot worse?
She wasn't going to be able to know just by looking at him, and she was in no place to ask him such a question. All she could do was guess, which was something the woman refused to do until she had more information. And information was something that there was a good chance she wouldnever get. This man seemed to be the tight lipped kind. After all, she didn't even know his name, and she wasn't entirely sure he had the strength to talk very much. But in a time like that, shouldn't there have been an attendant in here to help him? J.R. couldn't do anything, if there was to be an emergency.
"Why are you alone? I can get a nurse in here."
She took the cup back from him when he'd finished. He hadn't had enough to drink, but maybe he was too weak to be able to give himself any more. They should be giving him an IV of something to keep him hydrated, shouldn't they? Was there even such a thing? Moving away from him only long enough to set the cup back down with the pitcher, then she came back by his bedside. She had nowhere to be, and wasn't quite ready to leave this man alone yet.
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Post by Ryan D a r c y on Jan 11, 2007 23:25:40 GMT -5
i don`t want to be broken. .
Normally, if you wanted to look for Ryan, you would be best to start your search as far from any human contact as possible. He liked to hide, in the moments when nothing really mattered, and just the feeling that maybe he exist without anyone caring was both a relief and somewhat of a heartbreak for him. He wouldn't admit it, Ryan Darcy, the great loner, was absolutely lonely. Inside at least, outwardly he could appear as if he didn't exactly welcome the company of others, and while he wasn't surly or ill tempered, his fear often manifested itself in other, less desirable emotions. If you knew him well enough to read him, the signs would be lain out about in scattered path that only the most trained eye could catch, but they would be signs none the less. A clench of the jaw, a twitch of a muscle could signal nervousness or unease. He spoke often with words that were completely off the mark of what, if you knew what he was thinking, the intent or purpose should be. He could feel her eyes watching him, much like he had watched her, trying to size her up. It made the back of his neck tingle, but the feeling was barely perceptible amongst the other aches and pains of the sickness. Fear was something Ryan knew well, but he couldn’t describe it. He couldn't tell you when he felt it, or even if he felt it. Subconsciously he knew, but otherwise, he was oblivious to the fact that most of his life was lived in and for fear. The thought alone, if he had known, would have scared him greatly. He thought he had healed well enough after Lizzie`s death. He thought he was over the pain he had experienced when his hand was pried from his mothers as they carted off her cold body, no matter how much hatred had previously lain dormant in his heart toward the woman. He leaned back against the pillows, although collapsed would be a far better word to describe the action, and watched her, the same expression upon his face as always, stoically hidden fear that may not have been as hidden as he would have liked. Truth was, he didn't exactly know why he was alone, or even at this point, even care. Ryan preferred, for the most and oftenest part, to be alone, but he didn't shun an occasional visitor, or even the idea of one. The nurses fluttery motions and quick movements weren’t much to Ryan’s liking, even if he tolerated them easily and with a ease that most in the hospital could not. “No, that’s not…necessary, I’m fine.”he managed, his voice smooth but rough around the edges from disuse.
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Post by Jasmine Richardson on Jan 12, 2007 0:29:35 GMT -5
So this guy was one of those silent suffere types, was he? Alright, that was cool. She used to be like that. And he had ever right to be that way. Everyone had their reasons for being the way that they were, and he probably had more reasons than most. And being in a hospital didn't help a persons social abilities, although they should help a fella open up about pain. Maybe he didn't care if he lived or died... That thought worries Jasmine. If he didn't care, he could just die without anybody knowing until it was too late. That would be a really bad thing.
"Okay."
She would accept that he said he was fine, but if he ended up dieing, and she knew that it might have happened, she was goonna feel bad. Guilt wasn't a big thing for Junior, she just didn't like it. It made her feel all gross inside. Regrets and fears, those were things that just didn't give her a thrill. She did things in ways that didn't leave her with those kinds of feelings. So after nodding her head in agreement, instead of walking back out the door she'd come in, she took a seat in one of the chairs. Now, if anything were to happen, she could make sure someone with any medical skills found out about it.
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Post by Ryan D a r c y on Jan 13, 2007 23:43:13 GMT -5
If only I don't suffocate
..
The hospital room was only now getting more familiar to the man, as he usually took a while to adjust to new surroundings. Of course, he put on like he could accept anything, go with the flow, and the fact was outwardly, that was just the type of man he was; but inwardly, it was harder for him to get used to change, when all his life he’s been fighting it. But, he wasn't stupid, and no matter how much life looked down sometimes, he wasn't the type anyone could imagine, inwardly or outwardly, ending his life because he had given up. He was much too strong for that, even if he would deny that fact to his grave and back. He was brave as well, but any good trait he seemed to possess, well, you could bet he would be quick to deny it. Not because he is humble, which, to a certain degree he is, but because he actually doesn't believe he harbors any traits of good disposition. Sometimes, like any other, he could become just a bit depressed, but considering his past, it could be a lot worse. And, he would never, ever flaunt his past to get pity, mostly because he despises pity and wants no sympathy from anyone, but also because he sees no need to do that.
His murky eyes flickered helplessly over her face as she spoke, and he swallowed, closing his eyes for the smallest of moments, but just enough so it was plain to see he was really out of it. Sure, he could think clearly, for the most part, but he felt like crap. The fever was high, a hundred and five degrees, and it made him feel hot and cold at the same time. He was good at not showing when he was in pain or uncomfortable, or at least he thought he was, until of course, this woman walked in and completely destroyed that. If it was that obvious, well he must be pretty bad off. The blue tinge to his skin, and even the vision could be explained by a medical diagnosis. He just wasn't sure what it was yet. Being a doctor, he received the benefit of being more aware of his health than most people. But it didn't explain why he had passed off those flu like symptoms when he went into work and ended up passing out. That would account for the slight nick in the skin above his right eye, and those that showed on his hand.
“You don’t have to stay.”
he said, his voice sounding almost incredulous, he just couldn't believe, or want to believe, that anyone would want to keep him, lowly Ryan Darcy, company, even if he was pretty ill. The incredulous tone in his voice was slightly beaten down by the weakness it was brought forth with, but it managed to convey a speck of what he was thinking.
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Post by Jasmine Richardson on Jan 14, 2007 21:48:02 GMT -5
"I know that."
Jasmine didn't ever do anything that she didn't want to do if she didn't have to. And there was nothing that she had to do, except beath, eat and eventually, die. This was something that she felt compelled to do, so she was going to do it. He wasn't strong enough to get himself any water, let alone kick her out of his room. It was kind of funny, comsidering that they didn't even kow each other's names, but that was the way it was going to be until he either got better, or died.
J.R. was interested now, and that was that. She gave him a little smile before picking up one of the magazines lying around and started to flip through it. There wasn't anything of particular interest, since she already knew most of the hollywood gossip, but it was still worth looking through. She tended to look at some of the fashion, to see what had ben done, and what needed to be changed.
"You would not believe some of the outfits people try to pull off. It's kind of sad."
Actually, the worst part of it was that it would be a perfectly fine outfit on somebody else. Or that with one quick change or slight edit, it would have ben a great outfit for anyone. That was just something that people would have to look back on a year or two from now and just look at how stupid a person dressed. Flipping the page again, Jas crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the chair. This wasn't such a dull day after all.
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Post by Ryan D a r c y on Jan 14, 2007 22:44:16 GMT -5
i`m black and blue all over
..
Ryan’s brown furrowed, or at least a smidge, as she spoke and he almost frowned but the motion was too much. It was true that it took more muscles to frown than it did to smile. Usually people were put off by his dark and brooding ways, but at the moment, he really couldn’t be much of anything. He tightened his grip on the blanket that covered him, aware that he probably looked pretty sickly, and these hospital gowns were not the most covering garments available. It created room for a chill, and also exposed more skin than Ry was used to. He was also aware he had many faded bruises and small scars on his body, just from his past and the accident alone. Small scars were mostly excusable for childhood, but not if you had one such as his. Which, luckily, very few people did. And most people didn't even know Ryan had a past as he did, which could work both for and against him depending on the circumstance.
He watched cautiously as she picked up the magazine and that’s when he knew she was staying. He didn't mind much, but being a naturally unsociable guy, it took him a few minutes to adjust. He sunk lower, if possible, into the sheets, trying to hide himself, as if that were easy. He wasn't an extremely large man, but he wasn't tiny either. His eyes flickered toward her, but only his eyes, because he honestly thought his strength was fading. Which it was. Combine that with muscle weakness, and he was ready to fall back asleep. He shifted uncomfortably and muttered a soft reply, that sounded more apologetic than anything else. Even though it was rude, and Ryan despised being rude to anyone, he couldn`t help falling asleep as his eyelids got heavier and heavier, and pulled him down into that deep dark blanket.
It was a few hours, at least, before consiousness called to him again. It had been a dreamless slumber, though he had stirred and mumbled in his sleep quite a bit. Fevers always seemed to bring back memories of his previous life, of his past. He still felt like crap, but at least this feeling was managable. He was in no way better, or cured even, but he was more aware and those hours of sleep had done him good.
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Post by Jasmine Richardson on Jan 14, 2007 23:02:45 GMT -5
Jasmine had sat in that same chair all the while that Ryan had been asleep. She'd noted his stirrings, but as long as the machines stayed calm, she figured it was just a bad dream or something. Those could happen to the best of them, so there wasn't point in waking him up or getting anybody. She'd read two of the magazines before she'd started to do some doodles. Just some brainstorming ideas for new designs and things. She was considering getting into jewelery, and shoes, but that would take some time.
She'd gottan a number of cool ideas down, as well as spending some time playing with her hair a little, and goofing around. She had it up in pigtails by time she heard Ran stirring again, and she glanced over at him. His eyes were opening, so he wasn't dead yet. Very nice. Smiling, Jasmine set the papers she was looking at down and stod up to go over to his bedside again. He looked a little better, but maybe that was just her liking him better awake than tossing and turning.
"Hey there. How ya feeling?"
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Post by Ryan D a r c y on Jan 16, 2007 20:03:02 GMT -5
i`m black and blue all over
..
For a few moments he had forgotten the woman was in his room. He almost jumped, but forced himself to stay calm, besides, it wasn't like he could have jumped, even if he felt like it. It only took him a few seconds to remember, and by that time the slight hint of alarm had already flittered past his face and was now long gone. His murky eyes trailed over the magazines, a feeling of undeniable, but irrepressible guilt starting in his chest; guilt probably at making her sit there, well, not making her, but being here so she wasted a good two or so hours of her life sitting by his bedside when he was just someone worthless. At least, worthless to anyone who mattered. Though, the simple truth was, no one really mattered in his life anymore. No one was left.
He cleared his throat softly, so softly the noise was silent, and swallowed as he watched her realize he was awake. She seemed pleased, probably glad that sitting by his bedside hadn't been all a waste of time. There was still time yet to be wasted, though. His eyes danced over her face as she came toward his bedside, and he shifted under the sheets, his hands picking at the cotton fabric absently. Ryan was not the world’s best people person, in fact, he was probably the last person you would ever go if you needed a pep talk, or someone to get advice from. The thing was, he didn't know how to do any of that; give advice, pep talks, he had never really had the opportunity to practice it, so now, he just couldn't begin to know where to start.
“Sick.” he paused, aware of how that sounded. “Better though.”
Not the truth, but something she might like to hear.
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