Peonies

There's a vase on the counter by his hospital bed, filled with dirty water and floating thorns. It used to hold flowers for whoever held this room before Shizue. They must've cleaned it up in a hurry to have left it. It was somewhat of a cruel reminder that he didn't really have anyone. The nurse that had entered when he first awoke had asked if there was anything he needed and the desire to have the vase taken somewhere else had danced impatiently on the tip of his tongue, but he'd been unable to respond and instead shook his head in the negative. He wanted to speak his mind, but sometimes he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Thus, he was in a self-imposed state of misery. He stared at the vase, thought about what potential it had. It could hold flowers for him, too, if it wanted. More accurately, if someone wanted to bring him flowers as he recovered. Whatever he'd been doing, he'd strained himself and passed out, leaving a concussion and large lump on his head that he wasn't allowed to touch. The low pulsing ache of the bump threatened to drive him up the wall, but his thoughts were centered on the symbolism of the vase.

It was a sign that he was too complacent, he thought bitterly. Even now, he could request the nurse to up his pain killer dosage so he could forget the ache. Or a magazine or something that could keep him entertained. Instead, he kept his lips sealed and similarly sealed his fate to be unhappy in the unforgiving hospital room. It was white and monotonous and everything seemed to bleed into each other. It reeked of desolation.

His eyes fluttered over the room but they always landed on the vase again. The dirty water hosted a few unlucky thorns, remnants of whatever vibrant roses had filled it up before. He tried to imagine a few plump flowers in the vase, brightening up the room. If he turned his head away, he would have still been able to catch a whisper of those vibrant colors in the wave of greyscale that flooded the room. A constant, unavoidable reminder that someone had cared about him and his recovery.

He sucked on his teeth, pondering. All he needed to do was stop this self-pity, so that he could ask the nurse to remove the vase, or grab some flowers - surely some other patient had plentiful and could spare a few blooms - but he was unable to move himself from his stubborn punishment.

That was when a very flushed Wisteria barged in. Shizue was incredulous; Wisteria must've been stumbling in his race down the hallway to get into his room, so it was strange that he hadn't heard him rush around. Sometimes his thoughts were too overwhelming, it seemed.

Wisteria rushed to Shizue's side and grabbed one of his hands with both of his slightly sweaty ones. "I came as soon as I heard! What happened, Shizue?"

It took him a good minute to respond. He'd like to blame it on the concussion, but he was really tongue-tied because he felt like Wisteria was a hallucination or something. Why would anyone bother to visit him, especially when he was vulnerable and worthless? But Wisteria looked at him expectantly like a puppy when their owner held a treat in their closed fist, so Shizue swallowed down his hesitation and answered, "I overworked myself. Passed out. Concussion." He swallowed again when Wisteria's eyes widened at the confession, like he was genuinely worried.

"You should take breaks more often!" He removed one hand from Shizue's in order to bring the back of it to Shizue's forehead, feeling his temperature. "You could've been hurt worse." The observation was followed by a notable wetness forming in Wisteria's eyes. He stared at the bump on Shizue's head with no small degree of worry.

"It's not a big deal," Shizue dismissed, turning his head away from Wisteria and his temperature-feeling hand, eyes falling on the damned vase again.

Wisteria shook his head disagreeably. "You need to pay attention to your health more! Please, Shizue." He looked between Shizue and whatever it was holding Shizue's attention. He tilted his head thoughtfully at the sight. "Do you need some flowers? I was gonna get some peonies but I wanted to see if you were awake first."

"Didn't the nurse tell you...?"

Wisteria looked back to Shizue with a guilty expression. 

Shizue sighed, his exasperation highlighted when he covered his eyes with his free arm. "Oh, you didn't just barge in here without checking in, did you?"

Wisteria smiled sheepishly, the tears long forgotten. "I just got so worried... this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't gotten hurt, y'know..."

"You're blaming me?"

"W-well... Hey, let me go grab you some peonies." Wisteria released his hand and darted for the door.

"This conversation isn't over!" Shizue called as his visitor ran out the door.

"Peonies!" He called one last time from the hall, his rapid footsteps finally audible with Shizue no longer hyper-fixated on the emptiness.