WHO Will Scarlet, Robin Hood WHEN Thursday WHERE Little John's apartment WHAT a reconciliation WARNINGS tba
When Will woke up on Thursday, he could tell something was different but couldn't quite put his finger on it. It took him a good long minute of lying still to realise what the difference was.
He head wasn't spinning.
Cautiously, he sat up. His guts still cramped, and his head ached a little, but he could sit up without immediately needing to clutch for something to steady himself, and his stomach didn't heave with nausea. Very carefully, he put his legs out of the bed and stood up. A little light-headed perhaps, but no spinning.
He took great pleasure in going to the bathroom by himself. It's the little things that bring joy in life, he thought, as much as he was grateful to the help he had received before. Then he stopped in front of the mirror.
His face was still a patchwork of mottled purples and reds and blues. There was packing up his nose to hold the shape, and gauze and tape on the outside. He peeled off the pad that had been covering his other eye, squinting in the light, and was pleased to see that it wasn't swollen shut any more. There were a few stitches in his eyebrow that looked to be healing up ok too. He still looked messy, but not as messy. Taking a clean cloth, he gently dabbed at the dried blood that couldn't have been reached before to clean it off.
He'd lost a bit of weight in the past few days too. He frowned at the lines of his ribs through the bruising on his torso. He needed to eat something more filling than soup, and get some movement now he could get up. He also had the urge to go back home. Little John had been very kind but he was certain that the sofa was too short for John's tall frame and he couldn't be very comfortable there. Will was starting to ache around the middle from standing up for so long, though, so he went back to the bed and sat down again.
He was determined not to take up too much of Little John's space. He was sure the big man didn't mind, but he'd hardly had a chance to enjoy his new flat yet and he wanted to go back to it and relax. Gingerly, he put on his jeans and shirt (freshly laundered) and his jacket (heart-breakingly blood-stained and would never be the same again), pocketed his phone and medication, and went out into the living room.
"Little John? Robin?" he called, his voice rough. "I'm- I'm going to go home."