Candy | MouthWashing Game Curly X OC

𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵

"Sssss..."

Curly grunted.
"Come on, you need to try some exercise."
He shook his head. Beebee huffed and gave a small wave of her hand. "You wanted to talk and now we're trying to get you to slowly exercise those muscles. Come on, Curly," she urged.
He looked over. He had gotten to take his bandage off and now could see her during their conversations. But the exercises to get him to talk were going slowly... frankly, he liked the gentle attention.

"Ssss..." she enunciated for him. Curly slowly blinked, happy to have the function of his new but scarred eyelid.
Beebee held up a small sucker. She was trying to get him to say sweets and then as a reward, he could have a lick.
It did hurt slightly to put his lips in the 'O' form, but less than a few days ago.

"Ssss," he tried.
She grinned, unwrapping the sucker. "Sweet," she said. Curly looked at the candy and then gave a lopsided grin.
"Sw...eet," he said, more confidently. Beebee held the candy closer to his lips. Curly licked the candy, savoring the sweet taste he hasn't had in so long. She let him have an extra lick before bringing it away.

"Technically, you're not supposed to have candy yet, but I thought you deserved a treat," she put the sucker in her mouth, pushing it to the side of her lips. Curly watched her lips and then looked at her dark eyes and how they looked so happy.

"Anya-"

He shut down his thoughts for once. He just wanted to try and make a road to recovery. "Thank... you," he mumbled. Beebee put her hands in her lap. They sat on his bed, comfortably in each other's company.

"Of course, you've been doing really good," she kept her smile. Curly looked down with a small smile. It was silent for a moment before she got up and pushed the wheelchair near the bedside and pulled his covers back slightly.

"Do you want to get dressed?" She asked. Curly hesitated. He hadn't gotten dressed since he's arrived, only into one other new hospital gown. He watched as she stood up and walked over to the still-packed bag on his dresser and took out sweatpants and a t-shirt.
He hadn't worn clothes in... months. So many months.

He nodded slowly. Beebee happily took the clothes and then a pair of boxers on top. Curly waited as she walked over and helped him switch to the wheelchair. He didn't want to look at himself. He didn't want to even glance at himself. Beebee untied the back of his gown, not completely taking it off yet, then grabbed the boxers and put both stumps through the holes and then pulled it up, making sure not to move his gown.

Curly appreciated this. Although he wasn't embarrassed of his caretaker dressing him, she still kept his modesty and dignity the best she could. Something he hadn't experienced during those horrible moments on the ship... the horrible memories.
He swallowed hard.
Beebee then grabbed the sweatpants and did the same thing, rolling them up so they barely covered his amputated  legs, just above his knees. Then she took his gown off.
Curly shut his eye and looked slightly up.

"What's wrong?" Beebee asked. He heard the fabric as she walked closer. He shook his head, refusing to answer. She pulled it over his head with care and then over his body. Curly put his arms through the holes and then sighed as he laid back.
He was wearing clothes. He opened his eye and looked down. It looked like comfortable relaxing attire.
He looked okay.
He looked normal.

"You look great!" Beebee encouraged. She walked back to the back of his chair and rolled him out to the elevator.

He felt content.

***
Beatrice

I noticed Curly was quiet as we walked around the garden. The talk of the other patients were in the distance, speaking amongst each other. Every now and then, I could hear Tina's high-pitched laugh as she conversed with our older resident.

"Do... you.. get rest?"

I blinked a few times before realizing his question. "Yeah, I get breaks," I said with a smile. I parked him by a bench in front of some tulips and then sat on the bench beside him. Curly breathed in deeply like he was taking in the fresh air.

"That... good," he mumbled.

"It is. Me and mom also get to spend time together when we meal prep or do late night laundry and then clean up," I added, crossing my legs.
Curly looked at a bee buzzing on a flower, studying it.

"Where...?"

I waited for him to finish talking. It was still a struggle for him to communicate.
"Where is... room?"

I watched the bee settle its wings and crawl over the flower's petals. "We're in the basement, it's kind of like an apartment just underneath," I explained. I watched a wasp land near the bee, also poking at the flower.

"Oh," Curly said. He had a soft voice, gravely because of the trauma, but still had a smooth edge to it.
The bee walked around the wasp, avoiding it, and trying to reach to the flower's middle.

"Yes, it's very nice. Do you like your room?" I asked. The wasp followed the bee.

Curly nodded.
"Cozy."
I grinned at that. "My mom wanted to make the rooms seem very comfortable and not so bleak. If you ever want to change anything up in them, you can," I said. The bee turned its back to the wasp and immediately the wasp pushed and buzzed at it. I watched the bee scramble off and onto a different flower.
The wasp flew away, not even bothered to do anything else. Just to bully the bee.

"Good job... nice," Curly said softly. I looked at him. He was looking off in the distance, slowly blinking, and had a very far away look on his face. I had to keep myself from asking about the crash.

He would tell me when he's ready. If he ever will be ready.