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The first thing Aventurine becomes aware of when he wakes is the slow, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. An all too familiar and disconcerting noise. It echos faintly in the room he's trapped in. An uncomfortable, solid bed beneath his back. An even more uncomfortable ache permeating every muscle and cell of his body.
He peels his eyes open with a stinging crack-- to the sight of a hospital room.
The monitor at his bedside outrageously plays the sound of his racing heart. Aventurine has never liked hospitals. Too cold and clinical and clean. Always smelling faintly of death and bleach.
Every part of him wants to scream, he can feel it, but the pain is muted by a thick fog that has settled over his mind. Like a weighted blanket, only a little less cosy and a lot more… like being trapped by his own body. Too heavy to move and too tired to think about anything other than just how crap he feels.
Painkillers.
Aventurine knows the feeling well. Whatever they have him on must be strong. Aventurine doesn't like strong painkillers, doesn't like feeling as if his body were not his own-- but pain is worse. And if the doctors saw the need to put him on something so strong…
He can only imagine what got him here in the first place.
As more of himself comes into focus, Aventurine tries to wiggle his toes, counting each one to make sure they all work and still exist, attached to his body.
They do, and they are. So that's good. That's something. That's… better than nothing. He might be aching and unable to remember exactly what landed him here, with his mind as hazy as it is, but at least he still has his toes.
Next, his legs. Bare under the scratchy hospital blanket. But the itch is the least of Aventurine's worries right now. And it just proves that he still has feeling in them, even if they feel tender to stretch out.
Then his fingers.
The fingers on his left hand twitch easily. Each digit flexing and curling at whim, even if the joints protest the motion. His right hand though-- that doesn't move. He can feel that they're there, resting on top of the blanket, but his entire arm feel heavy and numb.
Aventurine manages to tear his tired gaze from the white ceiling, trailing it over the room, taking stock of the two empty chairs by the window, and the old coffee cups accompanying them-- just how long has he been here?-- Then across to the closed door, and then the monitors and machine's he's hooked up to.
And then to his hand.
He can't see his hand, not because it's not there, he knows it's there, but because something else is hiding it from view-- someone else.
Aventurine should be surprised to see the shock of white hair. That signature purple coat thrown over the back of the chair pulled up to the side of the bed. He should ask why Sugilite of all people is here, at his bedside. But his mouth and head feel like they're stuffed with thick cotton, and neither want to work quite right.
He's just… sleepily content that he isn't alone here.
Sugilite is asleep too, resting his head onto of his arms, on the small sliver of bed by Aventurine's side. And it seems like that's where Aventurine's hand is trapped too.
He looks peaceful, actually. Aventurine has never seen him so calm and relaxed, he looks friendly like this. Approachable and maybe even kind.
Aventurine retracts his arm from underneath Sugilite gently and slowly. Trying not to wake him with any sudden movement (not that he's making any of those, he isn't working well enough to manage that). A tired little part of him wonders if Sugilite was holding his hand, he thinks that would nice. It's a warm and comforting idea, no matter how silly.
Even as numb as it is, he rests his hand on top of Sugilite's head. Able to feel the softness of his hair as the sensation returns to his fingers. Savouring the heat of his skin where Aventurine's palm touches his cheek.
His joints crackle and pop as he plays with Sugilite's hair, twirling the soft strands between his fingers. Slowly brushing them from Sugilite's face so he can get a better look at him.
As much as Aventurine would hate to admit it, he is unfairly attractive. Especially like this, all soft and sleepy and quiet.
Lazily and half asleep, Aventurine traces a small line of freckles over Sugilite's cheek. Then over his strong nose, feeling for the smallest imperfections that make him exquisitely perfect in Aventurine's eyes.
'I got punched a lot as a kid', Sugilite had said when Aventurine first noticed the ever so slight dip to the otherwise straight bridge of his nose. Aventurine can believe it, though more often than not he would like to kiss him, rather than punch him.
(Sometimes he feels the urge though, just not as much these days.)
The man sighs in his sleep, the corner of his lips twitching. Will he wake up? Aventurine wonders, tracing over his brows and forehead. Will he wake up and tell Aventurine to stop? Maybe. He's pretty sure his feelings are mutual and Sugilite has admitted his own physical attraction to him before-- though it was never a surprise-- but despite that, neither of them ever seem to be willing to make the first move. So they just… sit in limbo. Flirting, occasionally, being friends, being coworkers.
But they're not exactly close enough for this kind of thing. Not just yet.
Aventurine could blame it on the painkillers if he had to though…
The next time he passes a hand over Sugilite's face, adjusting his hair behind an ear, dark, lidded eyes blink back up at him. Open where before they were shut.
"Hey," Aventurine croaks. His voice is raw from under-use, so quiet he doesn't know if Sugilite will even hear him.
But the soft, gentle smile he gets makes the effort worth the itching at the back of his throat-- and the way Sugilite shifts to take his hand in his as Aventurine caresses his cheek… that's pretty worth it too.
"Hi, good to see you awake," he whispers, not even trying to hide how happy he really is to see Aventurine. Sugilite's thumb brushes over the back of his hand in a soothing semi-circle-- back and forth. "How are you feeling?"
"Very achy," Aventurine admits quietly. His breath hitches as Sugilite kisses his knuckles. But Sugilite doesn't need to hear that little stutter to know how much it affects him, the heart rate monitor beside the bed makes sure of that. "I think I'm on a lot of painkillers."
"Yeah," Sugilite grins. "I think you might be. But that's good… it sounded like a bad accident."
Aventurine tries to shrug, but he doesn't get very far. Small movements hurt less, so he settles for tilting his head slightly. "I… don't remember anything…"
"I'm sure Topaz will fill you in. She was there, I only know what the doctors have said."
Right. That's right. Aventurine was here with Topaz, securing some sort of deal that feels too fuzzy in the back of his mind to truly recall.
Sugilite wasn't there though. So why…?
"The doctors called Jade," Sugilite explains quietly, still pressing his lips to Aventurine's aching knuckles and fingers, over and over, feather-light kiss after feather-light kiss. He's even bruised, he hadn't noticed that before. "Jade called me. She figured I wanted to know what happened."
"…Did you?"
"Of course I did. I came as soon as I heard, didn't I?
"I don't know, I've been asleep… I think."
He smiles so gently, looking at Aventurine with a longing he's never noticed before. Or never been allowed to see. "You have been asleep," he says quietly. "We were worried for you, but me and Topaz have been taking turns watching over you."
Aventurine hums, eyelids growing heavy and tired as a thick wave of exhaustion washes over him. Still, he tries to reach out for Sugilite, even as the tiredness begins to get a little too much and Aventurine… needs to sleep. Again. He'll need to do that a lot before he's recovered he's sure. The siren call of sleep is as intoxicating as the painkillers the doctors are pumping through his blood stream.
He brushes his fingertips over Sugilite's cheek. "I'm glad it's you."
Not that he doesn't love Topaz, he does, she's one of his best friends, but he doesn't love her like that. He's sure Sugilite understands without him needing to expand.
A serene kiss is placed on the soft, ticklish part of Aventurine's palm as it cups Sugilite's face. "I know," he says gently, a warm puff of breath against his skin. "Why don't you get some more sleep? I'll be here when you wake up."
He better be, Aventurine thinks. Closing his eyes as he sinks back into the uncomfortable bed, he tries to will himself back to sleep. With the heaviness of his limbs, Aventurine knows it won't be difficult to do so, but it always takes a little bit of effort to succumb to the weight of pills.
But he knows he's safe here. Sugilite's hand holds his carefully, quietly watching over him.
The last thing he feels is a final, tender kiss pressed to his palm, before the hospital fades away into the inky blackness of sleep.