→ ฬђєгє เร ๓ץ ๓เภ๔? → norman x reader

27. kiss; like real people do

♗ ♔ ♕ ♘

3 weeks, 2 days, 7 seven hours, 34 minutes later

ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ꜰʟᴜᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ɪꜱ, the subtle, gentle warmth of the sun.

You are in a bed. Holy mother of the universe it's the most comfortable bed you've ever been in. You close your eyes, sighing into the mass of pillows and blankets that cover you.

Then you're eyes snap open again and you jolt forwards, your heart racing, 'Where the hell am I!?'

There's an IV in your wrist and a machine beeping.

You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your side and lift up a... a clean white button shirt you don't remember ever putting on. Your torso is wrapped in gauze and the pain shocks you into full consciousness. You place your hand to test the pain and immediately inhale sharply, wincing while you suck in air to prevent yourself from crying out.

You lift the blankets, your also in new white shorts, your left calf bandaged. There are other little band aids and bandages wrapped on various parts of your body, but nothing hurts more than whatever happened to your side. 

You shift, clenching your teeth through the pain as you put your feet on the floor. Your entire being ache with fatigue. You finally rub your eyes awake enough to take in your surroundings.

It's like a hallow, everything around you is elaborately constructed and carved wood. There's a large bookshelf on the right, two windows on the left, a quaint desk and chair and it's all so... warm.

It feels like a dream.

You hope that it's not, but your mind has deceived you before. It gets hard to tell after dealing with your vivid dreams for so long.

The sun feels so nice on your (s/c), the wood underneath your feet warm from it. 

Your mind blanks for a second, 'What should I do?'

But before you can act on any of your thoughts a door swings open and then dishes clatter loudly to the floor.

♗ ♔ ♕ ♘

Norman walks up to your treehouse, his breakfast in hand. You are taken care of through the machine and IV, it is keeping you alive while you lie unconscious, keeping you hydrated and sustained.

He eats every meal with you, just in case you wake up so he can be there for you.

Vincent said not to be hopeful. After a while, Vincent said that if you weren't getting any better, it meant the machine was the only thing keeping you alive.

Norman prayed you would pull through.

He knows that Vincent was praying too, but he's too realistic and logical to have room for hope.

But for you, Norman couldn't help but grasp at straws instead of fall into an agonizing pit of hopelessness.

For you, Norman would hope and do anything.

His eyes sting from a lack of sleep, but his legs still trudge forward.

He stops right before the door, takes a deep breath-- and pushes it open.