˚ ·. · 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃, to be able to experience sadness one must experience happiness to initialize those feelings. we long to savor those ephemeral moments of passing bliss we realize we will never be able to experience once more, bec...
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ꜰ ʀ ᴀ ɪ ʟ ᴛ ʏ
*°:⋆ₓₒ
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
Hospitals were always a token of tragedies and woe in the form of pretenses bound to parade nurturance and elation so that it was to deceive all those who carried hope in their hearts. Pipe dreams; Mikey had known of them for far too long when he should not have, when his dreams were supposed to be his most prized possessions composed of juvenile bliss that he was expected to dote on for as long as his developing prime would allow.
After watching his mother's illness deplete the part of her he was no longer able to remember just for it to consume her very life force, Manjiro began to crack. The artificial and hybrid smells of soap and flowers and disinfectants creating a mirage of unattainability that soberly reminded the boy each time he dare step foot in a hospital. Shinichiro's death was like a trigger for every fibre making up his broken body, and it was at that moment Mikey saw the person he was supposed to run a motorcycle shop with, and whom he was to pamper with all his adoration, the brother whose guidance he so desperately needed, dead. He was gone. Forever.
It was, in a way, the presage of the end. The way his fractured heart was hanging on by a thread, anything could have ravaged what little was left of the very thing that was supposed to give him life, but instead, it felt as though it was the thing taking away all that he cherished.
Hours had gone by yet there had been nothing from you or any of the nurses; no one bothered to answer any of his questions nor did they at least give any sort of disclosure about what was happening. Frustration pooled in his fists and chest as he sat in silent impatience, one arm on both of his legs while his hand was bawled and pressed against his mouth.
One moment willed you both to bask in simplistic ease; the next, merely in a matter of seconds, clashed with obstinate strife that pierced the physical balance on one side and mental security on the other. These embittered recollections were just here to taunt him, to mock his incapabilities beginning to accumulate and overflow from these last ten years of his troublesome life.
Mikey did not know what to do.
"I-I'm sure she's alright," Emma said as she put her hand against his shoulder, the tips of her manicured nails gliding over the soft fabric of his cladding. "Have more faith in her, she'll pull through." Emma's natural buoyancy seemed to have deliberately diminished to correspond with the tone she had tabbed thanks to the mood in the setting.
"You're worried for nothing, she'll be fine, Mikey." Draken used all his muscles to recline against the grey wall to make it easier for him in an attempt to soothe Mikey with his words that he was unsure of himself. He had gotten the general gist of what had happened but there was not a lasting impression of this entire ordeal.
