just_muse_me | 38.2 Bedroom
Rick didn’t really know what it was. One minute he’d woken up thinking about maybe trying to talk his mom into making him bacon and eggs for breakfast, the next he was staring at his bald head in the mirror and wondering who the fuck he was.
He didn’t recognise his reflection.
His reflection couldn’t even smile. It looked bonier than he remembered, and there were stress lines on his face from the brief bouts of pain before the kidney transplant. He looked tired, and he just felt… alone.
His mom had come to check on him, but Rick had just grunted as he stood there running his fingers over his scalp and trying to remember the last time he’d actually felt happy about something. His mood had just flatlined and he couldn’t work out why. He realised Bella had picked up on it, but he’d been in denial.
He also hadn’t seen her in a while, and not having Chris around was starting to freak him out. He couldn’t be sure his brother was alright unless he was here with him. His mom tried to explain how Chris was doing, and even Serena rang up with updates but it wasn’t the same.
Rick needed to see with his own eyes that Chris wasn’t in anymore trouble. That his heart was still going, that having one kidney wasn’t hurting him. It was either for Rick to worry about his little brother than himself.
He knew somewhere deep down that he was a lot better than when he’d come back to Miami. Of course he was. He had a new kidney thanks to Chris, and the cancer seemed to be gone - thanks to Bella. It was just the prospect of more chemo that was starting to panic him. The session was tomorrow, and he just didn’t want to go back.
He didn’t want to go back to the hospital where his brother had died. Chris’ heart had stopped on the operating table and there wasn’t a thing Rick could do to change that. Tears started to slip down his cheeks, his emotions taking a rather steep plunge. He would have preferred to keep being on plateau than this. He didn’t want to be depressed. He wanted to be happy, he wanted to look forward to things, but he couldn’t.
And he didn’t understand why.
Rick buried his face in his hands as he started to cry earnestly, the sobs racking his now slender frame. As the anger mingled with the depression he picked up a bottle of deodorant and threw it at the mirror which shattered to pieces; some of the smaller shards flying out to cut his cheek.
He just wanted to be happy.
Words: 454
He didn’t recognise his reflection.
His reflection couldn’t even smile. It looked bonier than he remembered, and there were stress lines on his face from the brief bouts of pain before the kidney transplant. He looked tired, and he just felt… alone.
His mom had come to check on him, but Rick had just grunted as he stood there running his fingers over his scalp and trying to remember the last time he’d actually felt happy about something. His mood had just flatlined and he couldn’t work out why. He realised Bella had picked up on it, but he’d been in denial.
He also hadn’t seen her in a while, and not having Chris around was starting to freak him out. He couldn’t be sure his brother was alright unless he was here with him. His mom tried to explain how Chris was doing, and even Serena rang up with updates but it wasn’t the same.
Rick needed to see with his own eyes that Chris wasn’t in anymore trouble. That his heart was still going, that having one kidney wasn’t hurting him. It was either for Rick to worry about his little brother than himself.
He knew somewhere deep down that he was a lot better than when he’d come back to Miami. Of course he was. He had a new kidney thanks to Chris, and the cancer seemed to be gone - thanks to Bella. It was just the prospect of more chemo that was starting to panic him. The session was tomorrow, and he just didn’t want to go back.
He didn’t want to go back to the hospital where his brother had died. Chris’ heart had stopped on the operating table and there wasn’t a thing Rick could do to change that. Tears started to slip down his cheeks, his emotions taking a rather steep plunge. He would have preferred to keep being on plateau than this. He didn’t want to be depressed. He wanted to be happy, he wanted to look forward to things, but he couldn’t.
And he didn’t understand why.
Rick buried his face in his hands as he started to cry earnestly, the sobs racking his now slender frame. As the anger mingled with the depression he picked up a bottle of deodorant and threw it at the mirror which shattered to pieces; some of the smaller shards flying out to cut his cheek.
He just wanted to be happy.
Words: 454