rock on! | inanimate insanity au

[ volume one, chapter 13: the flowers bloom ]

hi this is the last chapter of volume one.. volume two is going to be filled with much more than vol. 1

no i did not beta read this

tw: violence, hospitalisation, referenced self-harm/suicide attempts

It had been two days since his first attempt.

Of course, that didn't stop him from trying again - but this time, it landed him somewhere new. Somewhere far from death, but so white you'd consider it to be the pearly gates up above - you'd be wrong to think so, either way. His body lay on the rock-hard mattress, staring at the nothingness of the walls, which were quite boring. Similar to watching paint dry.

Fan grimaced, chewing on his bottom lip - the air vent near his bed was annoyingly loud for his tastes. It would be nice to have a wider view of the world, but he was hospitalised. He couldn't move without pain shooting through his legs, as if a million pins had been pressed deep into the flesh of his skin, making sure it stung.

So he lay still, bored out of his mind. Nobody but a nurse came to check on him, and there wasn't much he could do considering the fact that he refused to speak half of the time. They had offered him some pills for the pain, but he just refused and ignored them. Fan wasn't exactly thrilled about still being alive, but it is what it was.

A knock on the door.

"Come in," he rasped out, his face scrunched - it had been that way since he got here.

Lightbulb poked her head into the room, her eyes lighting up at the sight - knowing that he was okay was pretty reassuring, to be honest.

"Fan, hey!" She grinned widely, wearing her signature off-the-shoulder sweater with rainbow sleeves and red shoes. Typical.

Fan wasn't exactly the happiest man in the world, but seeing Lightbulb made him twelve percent happier.

She came in and shut the door behind her, pulling out a bouquet of heliotrope flowers. They were wrapped with a pink ribbon and transparent plastic.

"Do you like them?" Lightbulb asked, placing them down on the table near his bed.

These were not just flowers.

Heliotrope flowers, along with others, symbolised love - Fan didn't know this, of course, but Lightbulb must've.

He glanced at the bouquet, eying her carefully.

"They're nice. Thanks." He rasped out, coughing out a bit of phlegm into the bin on the other side of his bed.

"Do you like it here, or..?"

That was a stupid question.

"No. It's boring, and I don't have anything to keep me entertained. All I get is shitty meals, and I don't even finish them."

Fan did admit that he hated the food here - but it was better than being starved to death, right? It was usually just slop, or something unidentifiable.

They talked for a little bit until she had to leave.

The flowers sat there for a couple of weeks.

It was a miracle they hadn't rotted up yet, but he was keeping them in fairly good condition - the nurses were part of that.

To be frank, they did half of the work, like watering them, and even getting him a vase to store them in.

Lightbulb had brought Fan some things he could use to cure his boredom, but it didn't help much — it wasn't as exciting.

He did want to know about how their blog was doing, though. It had been a while since they'd checked up on it.

It was quite lonely in a room with white walls.

Fan eyed the tray filled with more useless slop, which was settled above his blanket-covered legs. A small carton of milk, a ham sandwich, vegetable soup and a sad-looking container of coleslaw.

He had already eaten the apple since it was the only thing that looked edible to him — the milk was probably all chunky, while the sandwich.. he had never been a fan of ham anyway.

The coleslaw wasn't going to be eaten. He knew that from the get-go, shaking his head and pushing the tray away onto the desk.

He wasn't that hungry, especially knowing that's what he was being served.

The rays of sunlight peeked into his room, illuminating the tiles of the floor, and the blinds drawn back. The nurses did that for him earlier today.

But from where his bed was, he could see the gardens. Every day he told himself that when he was better, he would go there.

He could see the flowers blooming from his window. Fan wanted to sit there with the person who sat on the grass.

He didn't know who they were.

All he knew was that he wanted to talk to them.

The flowers had bloomed once more.

They stood nice and tall in the garden, each colour being visually pleasing — Fan thought they were gorgeous.

His flowers were doing well. They had kept their condition for the two weeks he'd been here, which was impressive.

But now, there was one thing he wanted to do.

Outside.

Fan stumbled out onto the grass, holding the railing for support. Feeling his bare feet touch the blades was comforting, like childhood.

His legs stung, but this was him testing the waters — desperate to talk to this mystery person.

"Hi." Fan called out, the person turning to face him.

"Hello." She waved, a small smile on her face. Her hair was a dark blue, curled at the ends — wearing a similar hospital gown to his, glasses on her face.

Interesting.

"Is.. is that yours?" He pointed to the wheelchair, and she began to chuckle.

"Yeah, it's mine." Fan thought she was nice — maybe being here wasn't so bad, if it meant making a friend.

"Cabby, and you are?" She held a hand out to Fan, who was desperately trying to keep his balance — which was proving to be hard.

"Fan," He took her hand, shaking it slowly. It seems that they both watch the flowers bloom.

Recovery takes time, and so does the growth of a flower. The two of them were similar to a seed, ready to grow into something new.

Something beautiful.

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END OF CHAPTER, END OF VOLUME ONE.