The Tells of a Different Childhood

99: A.U: Regression - Aware

Everything felt...fuzzy.

He couldn't quite explain it, but it was like he couldn't feel everything properly, he could feel his arms and legs, and the cloth that was on his skin, but at the same time, it was like he couldn't identify what exactly his body was touching. It felt like the link between his skin and his brain had been blurred somehow.

"how is he?" He felt disconnected, enough where he couldn't frown even if he wanted to. The voice was awfully close, and it wasn't a voice that he recognized. The more he listened, the more confused he got.

Why was it so quiet?

Even when he was recovering in the village, there was always something going on, there was always some type of sound ever so slightly overpowering the other sounds. If there wasn't the sound of children running around, then it was the sound of the cattle, the sound of farmers sending them to the fields to graze.

But yet, the only thing he could hear was an odd, rhythmic beeping, and the shuffling of clothes right next to him.

He could feel someone staring at him, and if he had been able to, he would have been jerking his arm away from whoever was touching it.

Instead, he was forced to let the person poke something into his elbow, his body completely and utterly unresponsive to his commands to move, but completely receptive to outside stimulation.

"We've decreased his pain medication," There was the clicking of plastic next to next to him, and he found himself even more confused when he heard another, deeper voice next to him, on the other side," He's going to be uncomfortable, but it should help him wake up."

"I see...will he wake up soon?"

He didn't recognize any of the voices.

"I'm sorry, I don't know."

Perhaps they were talking about someone else?

He had no one to sit at his bedside either way, and the few people that probably would have, obviously weren't the ones present.

"Its fine." If he could have, he would have bristled at the way someone was touching his head, running their fingers through his hair as if they were trying to find the best way to grab it, as if they were trying to figure out if it was long enough to grab it and to go about it. The contact sent chills up and down his spine, and not for the first time, he wished he could move so he could slap it away. It was repetitive, as if it was supposed to be comforting, but all it did was make him want to get away from the foreign touch.

He hated it.

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It was his turn to stand watch over Ijin, and despite all of his training, he couldn't help but be bored. It had been almost an entire week since Ijin had been admitted, and apparently, it was a waiting game to see if their dear friend would wake up or not after the head injury unassisted. Much to no one's surprise, Ijin's brain had swelled dangerously because of his wound, and despite the doctor's best attempts to help, Ijin just didn't respond to the treatment as they wanted. According to Dayeon, their next step would have been physically cutting a hole into Ijin's skull and removing a decent part of bone so it could relieve the pressure until the swelling went down. But in a show of Ijin's rare luck, the swelling started to go down hours before the procedure was planned. So now it was inevitable that Ijin lost some of his memories, how much, they didn't know, but it was a problem either way. Honestly, everyone was helping that it was just memory loss rather than any other symptom of a brain injury.

But as one might expect, after sitting by Ijin's bedside for the past few hours, with nothing but his thumbs, phone, and imagination to entertain himself, it was starting to get rather dull. He found himself texting the others about Ijin's lack of consciousness and other menial things more than anything.