Brodie Jay Bradford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lostinthefairytale) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-01-17 08:13 pm
lostinthefairytale) wrote in muserevival2014-01-17 08:13 pm
051.1. Muse prompt
"Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams."
Thistles & Weeds, Mumford & Sons
Brodie was so confused, groggy and disoriented when he woke up that he didn't even realise he was in a hospital. His body was so weak that it felt like it was wrapped in wet sheets, making moving a struggle. There was also the fact that by the time he got his eyes open a little, his vision was blurry because he was sans his glasses or contacts. It was only putting a hand up to rub his face that he realised his arm was restricted by IV lines feeding into his hand. He was frowning from a pulsing headache and turned his head to follow the tubes up to where they were connected to the IV bags. One was yellow, one clear, the other a deep red.
What the fuck? Why was he in a hospital? He couldn't even remember getting here, let alone why. His brain was hazy, and the last real recollection he had was climbing into bed in exhaustion after brushing his teeth. It had been one of those days where it was just too hard for anything, and it left him drained and tired. It had barely past 7.00pm when he had gone to bed. He remembered checking the clock before switching the light out. Caleb was still in transit from his trip home to Charleston, so Brodie hadn't really had to worry about anything but himself. He hadn't even eaten dinner, not in the slightest bit hungry after the stressful and terrifying week he had when he hit some poor guy with his car.
But apparently Logan was doing just fine. He had sent Brodie a text message reassuring him, but Brodie had been on edge ever since it happened. Every little sound pushed him close to panic attacks, and he had even gotten to the point he feared walked along a sidewalk in case a car hit him. He was a mess, but that wasn't really news to him. He had been a mess for about the last three weeks, he just hadn't told anyone yet. After the whole almost murdering someone with his car fiasco, he had called in sick to work for the past two days. He stayed holed up in the apartment alone, and without Caleb to dig him out of the funk, he just stayed right on in it. At least he was following doctors orders. He had lost count of how many times he had been told to rest...
He was just looking at the IV in his hand, trying to figure out why it was there, when a female doctor with glasses and a lab coat came in. She picked up his chart and greeted him, but he wasn't taking in much of what she was saying. She gave her name, but he didn't catch it. Then she was going on with a lot of medical talk that wasn't even going in one ear to make it out the other. He just looked at her blankly, wishing to god his head would stop hurting.
"Do you remember what happened before you lost consciousness, Brodie? You're severely anemic. We're trying to isolate the reason why."
"Uh..." was the bewildered response when he blinked groggily a couple of times to try to get his vision to focus. "I was just... in bed..." Probably no help at all, but what did she want? Him to make up some bullshit fairy story so she had something to fill in the blanks. At least she confirmed his name was Brodie, because he was starting to even doubt that for a moment or two. "Did I hit my head...?" It was hurting like a bitch, so that had to explain everything. He just fell out of bed and they were keeping him in for observation.
"You don't have any external injuries at all, Brodie. You just presented unconscious with a severe shortage of red blood cells. We're waiting on pathology as we speak, but I suspect it has something to do with your condition. Unfortunately, turning up literally lying unconscious on the ER doorstep and no CCTV footage to explain how you got there, police would like to treat it as suspicious circumstances, just until we can rule out any internal injuries..."
Another blink. This must be how dogs felt when humans tried to speak to them. How could you have internal injuries without external ones? Without even thinking about it, Brodie being Brodie, he quickly checked to make sure his dick was even still attached with a blind and light fumble under the starchy hospital sheets. "I was just in bed..." he repeated, satisfied his junk was still where it should be. "I don't... there must be a mistake...?" It came out phrased as a question, because if he didn't hit his head, why was it hurting so much and how was he so freaking confused and woozy? Woozy and dizzy, with a side order of nausea. With a soft moan, he carefully rested his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.
"We're giving you three units of bloods in hopes it gets your red cell count back up. That is our priority for the moment. With your recent medical history, it could be complications or exacerbation..."
Brodie tuned her out. She was just white noise. He kept his eyes closed, wishing he was anywhere but here. How could fucking doctors expect you to give them the answers to questions they should know and you had no idea of? But above all else, why was he consumed with these constant memories of Asher that didn't seem to want to relent? Maybe the passing of the anniversary of when they got together had just brought back a lot of old memories, but if he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, it was like he could almost still feel Asher in his arms, remember the scent of his favourite cologne, the way he used to stroke his fingers so lovingly through Brodie's hair when they laid together snuggling after making love. Why did it all feel so real when he was trying to forget it?
"Brodie, we've called your next of kin. Caleb McDaniel. He was going to get a train from Charleston, but he has decided to get a flight instead, so he should be here sometime this morning for you. He wasn't able to shed any light on why you may be here. We need to ask, have you given any more thought about commencing chemotherapy...?"
And with that, Brodie tuned right out. He turned his head away, eyes closing again. His pain and sadness seemed to have doubled ever since he hit Logan with his car. Thoughts and dreams of Asher had been consuming him, day and night. There had been no room to think about anything else. He hadn't he talked to anyone about it. As far as he was concerned, what was the point? At least if nature took its course, maybe - just maybe - if he held onto those sorts of beliefs, he could finally be reunited with Asher if it did.
Brodie Bradford // Original Character
- in the wake of THIS
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams."
Thistles & Weeds, Mumford & Sons
Brodie was so confused, groggy and disoriented when he woke up that he didn't even realise he was in a hospital. His body was so weak that it felt like it was wrapped in wet sheets, making moving a struggle. There was also the fact that by the time he got his eyes open a little, his vision was blurry because he was sans his glasses or contacts. It was only putting a hand up to rub his face that he realised his arm was restricted by IV lines feeding into his hand. He was frowning from a pulsing headache and turned his head to follow the tubes up to where they were connected to the IV bags. One was yellow, one clear, the other a deep red.
What the fuck? Why was he in a hospital? He couldn't even remember getting here, let alone why. His brain was hazy, and the last real recollection he had was climbing into bed in exhaustion after brushing his teeth. It had been one of those days where it was just too hard for anything, and it left him drained and tired. It had barely past 7.00pm when he had gone to bed. He remembered checking the clock before switching the light out. Caleb was still in transit from his trip home to Charleston, so Brodie hadn't really had to worry about anything but himself. He hadn't even eaten dinner, not in the slightest bit hungry after the stressful and terrifying week he had when he hit some poor guy with his car.
But apparently Logan was doing just fine. He had sent Brodie a text message reassuring him, but Brodie had been on edge ever since it happened. Every little sound pushed him close to panic attacks, and he had even gotten to the point he feared walked along a sidewalk in case a car hit him. He was a mess, but that wasn't really news to him. He had been a mess for about the last three weeks, he just hadn't told anyone yet. After the whole almost murdering someone with his car fiasco, he had called in sick to work for the past two days. He stayed holed up in the apartment alone, and without Caleb to dig him out of the funk, he just stayed right on in it. At least he was following doctors orders. He had lost count of how many times he had been told to rest...
He was just looking at the IV in his hand, trying to figure out why it was there, when a female doctor with glasses and a lab coat came in. She picked up his chart and greeted him, but he wasn't taking in much of what she was saying. She gave her name, but he didn't catch it. Then she was going on with a lot of medical talk that wasn't even going in one ear to make it out the other. He just looked at her blankly, wishing to god his head would stop hurting.
"Do you remember what happened before you lost consciousness, Brodie? You're severely anemic. We're trying to isolate the reason why."
"Uh..." was the bewildered response when he blinked groggily a couple of times to try to get his vision to focus. "I was just... in bed..." Probably no help at all, but what did she want? Him to make up some bullshit fairy story so she had something to fill in the blanks. At least she confirmed his name was Brodie, because he was starting to even doubt that for a moment or two. "Did I hit my head...?" It was hurting like a bitch, so that had to explain everything. He just fell out of bed and they were keeping him in for observation.
"You don't have any external injuries at all, Brodie. You just presented unconscious with a severe shortage of red blood cells. We're waiting on pathology as we speak, but I suspect it has something to do with your condition. Unfortunately, turning up literally lying unconscious on the ER doorstep and no CCTV footage to explain how you got there, police would like to treat it as suspicious circumstances, just until we can rule out any internal injuries..."
Another blink. This must be how dogs felt when humans tried to speak to them. How could you have internal injuries without external ones? Without even thinking about it, Brodie being Brodie, he quickly checked to make sure his dick was even still attached with a blind and light fumble under the starchy hospital sheets. "I was just in bed..." he repeated, satisfied his junk was still where it should be. "I don't... there must be a mistake...?" It came out phrased as a question, because if he didn't hit his head, why was it hurting so much and how was he so freaking confused and woozy? Woozy and dizzy, with a side order of nausea. With a soft moan, he carefully rested his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes.
"We're giving you three units of bloods in hopes it gets your red cell count back up. That is our priority for the moment. With your recent medical history, it could be complications or exacerbation..."
Brodie tuned her out. She was just white noise. He kept his eyes closed, wishing he was anywhere but here. How could fucking doctors expect you to give them the answers to questions they should know and you had no idea of? But above all else, why was he consumed with these constant memories of Asher that didn't seem to want to relent? Maybe the passing of the anniversary of when they got together had just brought back a lot of old memories, but if he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, it was like he could almost still feel Asher in his arms, remember the scent of his favourite cologne, the way he used to stroke his fingers so lovingly through Brodie's hair when they laid together snuggling after making love. Why did it all feel so real when he was trying to forget it?
"Brodie, we've called your next of kin. Caleb McDaniel. He was going to get a train from Charleston, but he has decided to get a flight instead, so he should be here sometime this morning for you. He wasn't able to shed any light on why you may be here. We need to ask, have you given any more thought about commencing chemotherapy...?"
And with that, Brodie tuned right out. He turned his head away, eyes closing again. His pain and sadness seemed to have doubled ever since he hit Logan with his car. Thoughts and dreams of Asher had been consuming him, day and night. There had been no room to think about anything else. He hadn't he talked to anyone about it. As far as he was concerned, what was the point? At least if nature took its course, maybe - just maybe - if he held onto those sorts of beliefs, he could finally be reunited with Asher if it did.
Brodie Bradford // Original Character
- in the wake of THIS