The Chaos Accounts #1: Account of Anxiety

5

"Shouldn't he have woken up by now?"

He vaguely heard voices, muffled at first but eventually crisp and clear. He acknowledged the lightheadedness first, then the fabric sheet over his body. His muscles ached, while his eyes weighed like ten-ton weights held them down.

"Breathe, Arin." That was that Commander's voice, Gael. That was his name, right? "He got a bit worn out. Honestly, I don't blame him."

"He's a floof of a Mimic then. Supposed to have a decent amount of stamina, among tons of other perks!" While he didn't know what they were talking about or what a "floof" was, he felt insulted nonetheless.

Gael then said, "Addition to my earlier statement. I don't blame the kid. I blame you."

"Me?" Arin's voice sharpened a few octaves. "What did I do?"

"You messed up in every situation you ran into. I thought I taught you better than that."

"How could I be prepared for The Incredible Bulk and his gang that bully-"

"Arin, I read your report already, and I don't have an issue with the punks that revealed the truth. It's your actions after that. Now, I know words and letters are not your strong suit, but when there's only one street in the entire town called, "Woodpecker Road", I'd say it's a major mistake to go to "Woodland Street". You can't blame your issues on that."

"My stomach could be blamed..." Her tone had instantly flipped from indignant and defensive to meek and ashamed. "When the heck will he wake up?"

A soft voice that Blaine recognized as Gael's teenage shadow Saffron told them, "He has actually been awake for the last seven-and-a-half minutes."

"What?" Arin screeched. What followed were the sounds of a scuffle, which ended after a loud slam a few feet away from him.

"Don't let annoyances and fury color your judgement," Gael muttered loud enough for Blaine to hear, "He's a special one, precious cargo. I say this with the utmost respect to him: hands off the merchandise."

"Fine!" Loud stomping moved away from his bed, followed by the opening and extremely loud shutting of a door.

A gentle hand rested lightly on Blaine's shoulder. "No worries, Kid. The Devil's daughter has exited the room."

Blaine accumulated enough strength to open his eyes. When he spoke, his throat burned: "I wouldn't necessarily call her that."

Gael reached over to a table and grabbed a glass of water that sat there. "At least not to her face." That made Blaine chuckle, which set off a string of harsh and painful coughs from a tickle in his sore throat. The CO held the glass out to him. "Here, this should help."

Once the liquid had touched his tongue, impulses led Blaine to down the glass. Once it had empties down his throat, he sighed deeply, "That's the ticket." He gazed around the room he was in. The bed he lay on appeared to be either a Queen or a Full with nice satin sheets. A desk sat to his left, with a laptop bag resting upon it. He scanned the rest of the room, registering two large bookcases barely filled, a closed door on his far right that he assumed was a closet, a vase with two red flowers sitting on a small table, and a dresser that had a sock sticking out of a drawer.

For a while, he remained focused on that improperly stored sock. His mind numbed as he attempted to suppress his OCD tendencies.

A hand pressed on his shoulder when he tried to get up. "Don't strain yourself, Kid. I'll fix it." As Gael stood up, the door to the room shot open with a loud bang.

"Blaine!" Luz shouted, running up to his bedside and hugging his sore body.

Blaine managed to lift an arm to awkwardly half-hug his friend back. "Hey, Luz. What's been happening?"