noire : new york

HERE @ muserevival

“Flowers are happy things.”
- P. G. Wodehouse

Brodie was bored. Bored and frustrated about still being in the hospital when he felt fine. Well, maybe not entirely fine, but he was pretty sure there were other much less fine people whose butts could be in that hospital bed instead of his. He was picking moodily at a loose end of the micro-pore tape holding the IV line in his hand in place. He wanted to go home. Not that there was a whole lot at home for him to go to. It had sort of become a burrow for him, somewhere he hid away and hibernated in the dark when everything got too overwhelming for him to handle. Most days, Caleb would leave him to it. But there were still always days his best friend would fight for him and try to get him up, moving around, even just for a round of Guitar Hero to try to cheer him up.

( But then, Caleb didn't know Brodie's secret yet... )