More Dead than Alive (A Victuuri fic)

Diagnosis

CH 3.

I awoke to a beam of light from the nearby window shining in my face. I could see the dust particles interweaving their way through the air in the light, but today I payed them no attention.  I had better things to do now. More exciting things to see.

Hindered by my drowsy muddled morning thoughts it took me a minute to realize I was alone amongst the splotchy blue sheets. I sat up slowly, one hand rubbing my bloody eye, and the other stretching towards the sky. My back cracked with a satisfying pop. I blinked slowly taking in how the room looked in the golden morning light. The brightness of the light made the lavender walls seem softer by comparison, the shade of a cloud brightened by a sunrise. The gold accents along the trim positively gleamed. The air was cold and crisp, it smelled fresher then the decay-filled scent of the air at the hospital. Sniffing absentmindedly I could almost detect a hint of lilac.

I debated about giving into the frigid air's protests and sinking back into the warmth and security of the comforter, but my stomach demanded attention. I swung my legs out from under the blanket and off the bed, noticing I was still wearing the hiking boots Viktor had given me. I felt guilty wearing them into his bed, I hoped I hadn't gotten anything dirty. So I wouldn't track mud anywhere else in his house, I took them off. They were slightly too big anyway- even with the paper stuffed in the toes.

The socks he had lent me were honey-tinted with a faded pattern of daisies scattered across the ankles. I curled my toes, admiring the stretch and feel of the synthetic fabric. I liked the socks he had chosen. They were bright and happy. It was almost like I could just look down at my feet and be reminded of Viktor's colorful house. One gaze in the direction of the ground and a smile would find its way into my face, unfailingly.

My stomach rumbled again, evidently upset I had chose to ignore it for so long. Frowning, I got up and slowly started towards the door.
There was something... odd about me that day, I could feel it.

I paused for a moment, trying to evaluate what could've possible changed about me over night. Nothing came to my mind immediately though, so I kept walking. I opened the door in one fluid motion, and walked down the stairs smoothly, my hand resting daintily along the banister during my decline. I stopped at the bottom of the stairwell to stretch again. I was mid-yawn both arms in the air when it struck me what wasn't right. I hesitantly took a step forward. And then another step.

And then another.

My limp.

It was exactly, gone per say. I still walked like a person with a recovering ankle injury. But it was less prominent today. My steps were less clunky, more put together. It wasn't nearly as painful to watch me walk forward constantly almost toppling over.

With awe in my eyes, I looked down at my sock-clothed feet and smiled. I watched them as I took another step. The smile on my face gradually began to grow wider and wider until my cheeks hurt with the effort of the pure joy contained on my face.

I took a step.
And then a faster step.
And then an even faster step, and so on and so on until I was practically running down the long elegant hallway of the colorful house.  As I was running (if you could really call it that...) I felt a light laugh in my chest. It clawed its way up to my throat and bubbled out without my consent.

My limp was healing. I couldn't believe it.

While my limp was healing, my coordination was still somewhat lackluster. I realized this after several steps of my pitiful excuse for running when I promptly collapsed in the living room with a cacophonous "crash".

After a quick analyzation of my body, I came to the conclusion I didn't hurt anything (besides maybe my pride.) Viktor, however, having heard the noise sprinted into the room as fast as he could.