Post by Mitch 'The Broken' Heart on Sept 17, 2020 23:59:18 GMT -5
Visiting Hours.
The hospital room was as sterile and stark as any other. The curtains were drawn, blotting out the sun from invading the grim interior. Bert McAlroy sat beside a bed, staring at his friend. His broken, battered friend Matthew Aloysius Knox. For his part, Bert looked dishevelled and sleep deprived. Still adoring his “Team Tree Lobster” tee shirt, jeans and an old pair of air Jordans. His eyes stared at the tubes, bandages et cetera that adorned his friend’s frame now speckled with deep purple bruises.
And Knox was indeed battered and bruised. His forehead bore a large bandage where the bite wound rested beneath. No doubt it’d scar. His ribs had been wrapped, Bert hadn’t asked but he knew some were broken. As far as his back, Bert hadn’t heard anything. And right now? No news was good news.
The quiet was soon disturbed, however, by a knock at the door. On the other side of it was one Mitch Heart, panting a bit as if he’d made it over as fast as he could. He didn’t look any fresher than Bert, his already haggard look made worse by dark circles under his eyes and his short, sandy hair pointing in several different directions. Nurses passing in the hallway behind him kept shooting him looks, keeping a wide distance from him.
“Hey, Bert. He awake yet?”
Bert stood instinctively as Bert entered, fists balled like he was going to do something. He relaxed as he saw Mitch, and paid a somber shrug before returning to his seat, and letting out a low sigh. He reaches up and wipes a hand over his face before speaking
“In and out. Hasn’t said a word, just opens his eyes. Makes a face, closes them again.” He stares worriedly at his friend. That morphine running through a line right into those well used veins. He shook his head, burying that thought right back into the cellar. “They haven’t said a thing on his back but his ribs are busted, took damn near all their stitches on the head wound and his kneecap got dislocated…” a pause, and then he asks with a slight edge to his voice
“How’s Zane?”
“Well enough to tweet. Guy’s as resilient as a late model Nokia.”
He sighed, holding up calloused hands, still taped from the night previous.
“Look, I know King’s probably not the most popular guy in the room and I get it. But he’s a friend of mine, I plan on talking to him about this later, and the less trashing of him at the moment the better. I know that’s probably weird and I wish I could explain but…”
He shook his head, sighing.
“Nevermind.”
Pulling up a chair, Mitch sat down, looking at the injured man with a furrowed brow before speaking in a rough, but gentle tone.
“...hey old man. You with me?”
Bert suddenly finds his oats and loses a lot of sense, he stomps where Mitch is seated and kneels down into his face, baring his teeth as he speaks. He feels the fear bite but a righteous, indignant fury pushes him on.
“Fuck. Zane. King.” Bert steps back, face twisted in anger. “You might be Matt’s friend now, in The Set. And that’s great, i’m happy. You guys have been good for him, to him. But this dude…” Bert points at Matt “I was here with him, for him when the poison goin in his arm wa--”
“Bert….take a walk.” came a weaker, strained version of Matt Knox’s voice. His eyes open halfway, settling on Bert’s indignant form “You’re running out of grace here, and Mitch will put you in the bed next to me, if you’re lucky.”
Bert hesitates a beat, pays Mitch a disapproving glare before swiftly departing, likely to the Cafeteria. Knox turns his gaze back to Mitch, and smiles weakly before speaking. “He’s just upset. Kid’s got a belly full of fire and no sense..no wonder he wants in the business”
“Nah, I get it. I mean if somebody knocked the shit out of a long-time friend of mine and some dude came in speaking anything less than death threats about the fuck that attacked him, I’d probably be hot as shit too. I wish I could… explain better but maybe I can try later. It doesn’t matter right now anyway.”
Leaning his cheek on his hand, he sighed softly.
“God I’m glad you’re talking to me though. I couldn’t sleep all night. I was all ready to compliment you on the most spectacular splatterfest I’ve ever seen, and i’m not gonna lie, it was great to watch. Until it wasn’t.”
He rolled his shoulders a bit, one hand fidgeting. He’d never been a fan of hospitals.
“How’re you feeling? I mean obviously ‘like shit’, but what degree of shit?”
Matthew closed his eyes again, with a valiant effort he slides upward, to look at Mitch better. The smile leaves his face, replaced by a pain grimace before it makes a quick, reassuring return. He lifts a hand, motioning to nothing in particular “Well, I got powerbombed out of the ring. And that shoulda been it but…” he shifts his gaze “I feel like hell, whole different layers if i’m being honest.” He snorts, enjoying the warmth of the morphine
“I couldn’t make it right, or maybe I did and getting pinned just bugs the shit out of me. I’m hooked up to an intravenous pain killer and that could lead to a lot of bad places if I don’t get right..and on top of it, i’m not right.” A chuckle “God that’s a long way to say I feel like a steaming, massive pile of shit” He leans his head back then “I had him, Mitch. He was out I could feel him slipping away in the middle of that ring...then next thing I know, i’m getting spiked on my fucking head and..if i’m honest the rest is fuzzy” he trails off “How’re Ade, Sil and Ko? Still celebrating?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised. They’re worried about you too, though.”
Looking at the ceiling, Mitch tapped a finger against his temple in thought.
“I think you did good. Maybe even better than me regardless of the end result. Plus like… I might not put this right cuz I’m tired as shit but bear with me.”
Lowering his hand from the side of his head, he rested them both on the edge of the bed instead, leaning forward.
“I fought King for really petty reasons. I felt like he insulted me and it pissed me off. You fought for something a lot more noble. And when you do that? I don’t think it matters if you win. The standing up and fighting part is important. And you fought like the goddamn devil. Shit, I don’t think I could beat you if you fought me like you fought King.”
A sheepish grin flicked over his face.
“So I don’t think you have anything to beat yourself up over. I think you’re beat up enough as it is.”
Knox laughed at that, instantly firing a hand to his ribs. He shook his head slowly “You’re just bein nice because I got dropped on my head, like a lot.” He quips and slides back down into the bed slowly, crossing his arms in thought. After a moment, he speaks once more
“I appreciate it, Mitch. I don’t know about beating you..maybe in a wrestling match but i’d never want to fight you.” he smirks “But I guess you’re right. If nothing else, maybe Zane knows that I’ll never be an easy draw. Because you know, and I know that at some point i’m going to try and go again. That’s just the nature of it.”
He waves his hand “Enough about me and my boring shit. How’d it go with Sebastian Hawke? Kid all bark or he got some bite?”
“A little bit of bite. He’s got a ton of potential if he’ll stop getting in his own fucking way. He’s as sensitive as an exposed nerve- I even went to compliment him this morning and he thought I was trying to insult him.”
Sigh.
“If he doesn’t get rid of that persecution complex, some sly motherfucker with less morals than me will be all too happy to use it to pull his strings. I’d tell him that but he’d probably accuse me of calling him stupid.”
Knox chuckled, motioning to where he left his phone, long taken by Bert “Hell, you read the bullshit on twitter, that Axton punk is already in his head” Matthew exhales slowly, eyes noticeably drooping “We can’t keep all homes in order though, Mitch. Just our own.” His eyes open wider a moment, staring right into Mitch’s.
“Learn that while you can. I know you’re not a lot younger than me, but i’m gonna have a four as the first digit here pretty soon. So i’m pulling rank. You can’t keep all homes in order. Just your own” he scoffs, eyes sliding shut “Maybe i’ll learn it, too”
“Don’t tell me what to do, old man. If I wanna worry myself into an early grave over people I care about, I will and you can’t stop me.”
He shot Knox a cheeky grin, and stretched, cracking his back a bit.
“You want me to stick around a while longer? I gotta head home soon but I can wait a while if you want. I don’t wanna be accused of ditching what amounts to a car accident victim that I claim to be friends with. I don’t think Bert likes me as it is.”
Knox’s response would be steady breathing as the morphine finally did it’s job, putting him under to dream about things hopefully less traumatizing than fighting a monster. Taking that as his answer, Mitch stood up, gave the resting man a fond parting smile, and took his leave.