BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH likes this
Post by Deleted on Sept 13, 2021 3:02:04 GMT -7
May 17th to May 21st, 2026
It had been more than a month since he'd walked in those doors and gotten checked in. In the entire month he had not seen his sister once and he was deeply concerned. He'd seen his brother and far more often than he'd expected. Maybe he'd had a few misconceptions there. He'd woken that morning, thinking deeper than he had, or further more likely. His thoughts had been deep and dark and they had felt like they were drowning him. Now at least it felt almost normal, thoughts about things that matter rather than the deep dark pits that the various medications they offered supposedly would drown out. For easily a month Gus had gotten up, washed his face, got dressed, walked to his chair next to the window and spent his entire day near that window, staring out. It was all he did. He barely ate and his sleep had been troubled at best. So when he woke, he washed his face, got dressed, and walked over to his chair, where he sat most of the day. Smoking was not allowed, but after half a month they'd done some spellwork to ensure the smoke would never leave his little corner. The framework of the spell illuminated over the course of the day by the endless stream of smoke that seemed to spill from his lungs.
This day was, for whatever incomprehendable reason, different. He'd woken up, feeling a little less dead on the inside. He'd been allowed to bring some personal care items but he'd never really bothered. What point was there, after all? Yet today, as he looked in the mirror at his face, washed and cleaned, he narrowed his eyes briefly. It simply wouldn't do. So the drawer opened and out came his small little make up back and with meticulous care, Gus drew the lines around his eyes that made him feel more like himself. It was a step forward, wasn't it? Yet he walked to his chair and still continued his day as usual, though his body was less rigid than it had been and a strange peace seemed new on his face.
The day next, Gus woke again, cleaning his face and applying his make up. He walked towards his chair with slightly more spring to his step, absentmindedly grabbing himself an apple along the way. He sat, he ate, he smoked and the faint memory of a smile touched his lips. His fingers began to itch. After dinner, as the sun left the sky and the darkness began to settle in, Gus requested a guitar. He sat for almost an hour with the instruments in his hands, but he did not play more than a singular isolated note. Yet the sound brought him comfort and the faint memory of a smile turned to a faint smile. On his way back to his room, he spoke for what had to be the first time since he got there, thanking the nurse that had gotten him the guitar as he returned to his room.
The following morning getting out of bed was no longer automated, as his hands itched beyond reason. He did not apply his morning ritual and in stead nearly rushed to the desk, requesting parchment and quill and waiting rather impatiently for them to arrive before making his way over to his chair. It was like the older times, back before he'd bought an enchanted quill that would jot down the notes for him. He smiled a full on smile as his hand closed gently around the neck of his guitar and his fingers coaxed out a gentle melody with the ease of two decades of practice. His smile grew and he played a far less gentle melody and soon after found himself spending the entire day without allowing anybody to distract him writing down music and lyrics until at long last the darkness settled in and the nurses reminded him that he was supposed to sleep at least. Since they understood that this was likely a good sigh, they humoured him with a meal so that his stomach would not prevent him sleep. He asked them not to allow visitors the next day and they cancelled the few that had made appointments. Gus slept a deep and dreamless sleep that night.
He woke early and rested, a huge smile on his face as he once again went back to his ritual, ensuring that he looked his absolute possible best before he headed out to the guitar near his chair, his cigarettes long since forgotten in his room. He did not smoke that day, he only played music and wrote and even took breaks in order to eat. He spoke animatedly with the staff as they checked in during his writing breaks. During the late afternoon one of the healer spoke with him for an extended period of time, all the while allowing Gus to play soft background music to their conversation, as it clearly made him happy. Nearing the end of their conversation, the healer asked what seemed to have changed and Gus merely shrugged before his reply came. "I gave up everything I had for music because it was the one thing I could always count on to brighten my day. So when I couldn't find any joy in writing, or singing or even playing music, it felt like everything I had was gone. Not just my relationship and my family, but the one thing I had chosen to risk all of those things for after I lost my mother. If I couldn't even play anymore, what point was there really to living?" He said, but the smile clearly stated that the return of his ability to play and write was back. The smiled showed it even more than the two shoe boxes worth of paper with random lyrics and unfinished melodies. The healer nodded and considered before he left to think it over.
On the morning of the 21st, Gus started his day as he had the previous, full of energy and life. He played during the morning coffee for any and all willing to hear in the ward. After what was almost a miniature concert, the same healer approached him and asked if he felt he was ready to go home. A brief moment of hesitation plagued the singer but after a little moment to consider he nodded. "I think so, if you agree. I'd still like to come back though,talk things through." The healer smiled and told him that was exactly what he'd hoped for and that he'd call a relative to come pick him up. After not having seen his sister in the longest time, Gus could only guess that it was his brother or father. The two he had the most strained relationship with. He stood for a moment, wondering why on earth his sister was so far out of reach and if she was okay. Yet concern about his sister had been plaguing him for weeks, despite his mental state. That wasn't likely to change anything currently.
So he turned in the guitar and got dressed, taking in every tiny little detail to ensure he looked perfect. Hours passed easily as Gus perfect his hair, make up and picked out an outfit from his limited wardrobe that he would feel comfortable being seen in. He looked in the mirror and smiled, as he finally recognised the man in the mirror again. It was time to set out to seek what he wanted in life, rather than hope it would make it's way to him. He rubbed his hands and left the room, not taking a single moment to look back this time. It was time for him to truly move forward this time, and take control to ensure that he got the life he wanted rather than hope it would come to him.
It was time for his recovery.
