New arrangements

Only sounds in the room were the beeps from the Hyperbaric machine and her own labored breathing. Every once in a while, a panic washes over her, reminding them of everything that happened. Now they’re trapped in this sterile room, alone. 

“Foxglove!” 

The door swung open as a man cried out for them, Felix had finally made his way. He stood briefly in the frame, panting, soaking in the horrific sight that he only saw in nightmares. But Foxglove didn’t see it that way, and they smiled at him. 

“Felix,” a louder voice boomed from the hall, deep and unrecognizable. Yet Felix’s expression told the rest of the story, sinking into a deep disgust. A hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back as a new figure leaned in close to his ear, “you cannot be acting like this in a medical facility or I’d have you checked in for hysteria.” 

The opposing force stepped inside her room, being barely taller than Felix, combed over black salt and pepper hair with a short well kept beard, sharply dressed and glaring eyes. 

This was Felix’s father. 

He studied her current state, practically sizing them up. The equipment, the bandages, the scrubs, their singular green hollow eye, analyzing it all in pure calculated silence. Sharp speedy clacks on the stone floor echo behind them, and a new face pushes her way past. A brighter and softer face emerged, but clothed in a rather intimidating black turtleneck trench coat combo. Not a single wrinkle on her face, this had to be Felix’s mother.

“Oh my dear, good heavens,” the woman rushed to their side, dramatically kneeling on the ground and clutching one of their hands, “you poor thing!”

She seemed on the verge of tears, just from clutching Foxglove’s hand, which freaked them out because they’d never ever met. Still, this stranger continued to go above and beyond, delicately clearing hair from their face, tucking it behind their ear. 

Despite how calm she may look, Foxglove was stupid uncomfortable. Looking back at the others in the room for help, they only found the father seated as far away as possible, on his phone and Felix, frozen in the doorway. 

“Fee told us you had an accident of sorts, but I didn’t imagine it to be this bad,” her voice was cracking. Impressive how much empathy she could muster, “heaven forbid, you even had a blood transfusion!”

“Mother,” Felix finally spoke up, attempting something. 

“It’s scary, but it works,” Foxglove just smiled and shrugged, despite how much it ached, her cheeks aching. 

“But it’s so inhumane! Think of it,” she gripped both hands, her clutch getting stronger each passing second, “someone else runs through your veins, isn’t that frightening? Doctors could at least use the filtered blood we produce, your Saliva or your own—“

“Joellene,” once again, Felix’s father asserted himself, stopping his wife from carrying on. His face with stone cold, glowering at her, “let our son speak to his girlfriend. Please.”

Heat immediately swelled in Foxglove’s cheeks, she couldn’t even feel Joellene walk away, just stared off blankly as Felix approached in slow motion. The flushing face told her something, but the turning in their stomach told her a different story. He was swift as always, gliding across the floor.

His eyes were a touch pink, eye bags dark, the very tip of his nose was raw. 

He knelt next to them, holding his hands against the hospital bed, light twitches rippled through them. 

“Is it okay to touch you?” Felix spoke, close to a whisper. No one has explicitly told her that it… isn’t okay? Foxglove dodged anyone’s gazes, she was the only focus here. 

“I guess…?” They landed on the most unconvincing answer alive. The regret slipped in the second Felix responded with a light scowl. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and released the tension building up, and held up a hand. It was… pale. He’s… really just so pale, huh?

Finally, Foxglove allowed him to make eye contact, the feeling of shame filled her heart as she did. He’s probably been so worried, conflicting feelings or not, he’s laying down his life for them. His eyes, they were so pink. 

They take his hand, interlocking their fingers tightly. Her skin strains under its bandages, they weren’t meant to bend those fingers. So, Foxglove tugs him closer, reeling him in for once, and leaned in to press her forehead against his. At that point, bending her fingers became too much and Foxglove had to let go, returning them to static stiffness. But Felix wouldn’t let go of them, his hand brushed into their hair and held tightly on the back of her head. 

“I’m so glad to see you,” he whispered, tracing his thumb along their skin, “I didn’t know what to do, asking for help from my parents seemed like the right thing.”

“It is, it is,” Foxglove closed their eye and muttered back, “I don’t care, I just needed you here more than anything.”

“I’m here, I’m here for you.”

For a moment, Foxglove even forgot about the world, their circumstances and their recent history. Such care felt so tender and heartfelt, it melted away the anxieties of their past couple days, alone and suffering in this sterile room. However, the second Foxglove paid attention to the outside of their little world, she remembered. 

This is just for show, isn’t it? 

It all comes from a genuine place of concern and care, but it was just so his parents could see how much they “loved” each other. That pit grew in their stomach, realizing how Felix must be torn apart inside. The fear and terror must be genuine but this can’t be real. 

Felix brushed her hair, planted a kiss on her forehead and pulled away, only to solidify how faux their tenderness was. 

“Is Casey alright?” 

Fuck. 

That question tore everything down in Foxglove’s mind. Trembling erupted in her skin, a horrifying feeling of pure uncertainty bashed its way into their skull and pounded on her very nerves. The tears welled up, her words were caught right in her throat, coming up feeble little croaks. No longer was this about her or Felix’s less than ideal parents or their theatrics. In a way, it wasn’t entirely about Cassieopia, the nebula guard who set aside her spear just to… eat hot pot with some random Familiar. 

It wasn’t that Foxglove couldn’t remember anything. 

She could. 

They just don’t know what it all means. 

“It’s okay,” Felix reached to wipe the tears from their eyes but Foxglove recoiled, immediately pressing her hands into her face, gripping hard into herself. Horrifically, she began to jolt and thrash about, an awful growling behind those clenched teeth. Felix was frozen, shallow but rapid breaths flowed through his lungs. His father yelled something, his mother tried to get close but was stopped. There’s a buzzing sound. 

She’s started screaming. Oh god she’s started screaming. 

Buzz. 

There are tears pouring out her eyes.

Buzz. 

That’s blood.

Buzz.

That’s a lot of blood. 

Buzz.

He’s taken their arms. His father had been pressing the button for a nurse’s help but it clearly wasn’t soon enough. 

“Joellene, I want you nowhere near that girl,” he barks, ignoring the soft baby doll ages she’d try to put on, and bolts right out the door. He could be heard shouting, flagging down someone who had free hands. 

Foxglove wouldn’t open their clenched eye, struggling underneath Felix’s strength. It was relatively easy to keep her in place, meaning either he’s stronger than he imagined or they’re weaker than he expected.

There’s nothing he can really say, it doesn’t even feel like they’ve actually acknowledged him. It’s clear that Foxglove feels restricted, squirming in his hands, bonking their head into his arms. 

Then there’s outside shouting, several arms pry at him. The professionals take this matter into their own hands, driving a wedge right between the two. Admittedly, Felix only let’s go when he sees the nurses have a proper grip on them. 

There’s a sea between them, the crowded voices make up the sound of waves and Foxglove’s bed was a single ship he was pulled away from by the current.