mikael eiriksson is everyone (klifra) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-01-06 22:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, mikael eiriksson, mike fitzgerald |
WHO: Mikael Eiriksson and Mike Fitzgerald
WHAT: Mike tells Mikael that he and Clara broke up and is very doped up on painkillers.
WHERE: IVI hospital wing or whatever.
WHEN: IDK SOMETIME TODAY, HANDWAVE.
STATUS/WARNING: Complete! None!
Since returning back to IVI, Mike had not been recused from being a patient so Mikael had had the dorm room to himself for a little while. But that didn't stop him from hanging out with the other boy. Especially since people had died, and Mike had been shot and consequently nearly died, Mikael seemed to be making up for the lost time between them during their separate Christmas vacations. "Hey," Mikael said as he entered the hospital area that his roommate now occupied. He even had a grin for Mike, that's how happy he was to see him. "What's up?" Mike, for his part, wasn't feeling much of anything at all. Since the rescue operation had ended and he'd found himself in the hospital with a bullet wound to the arm, he'd been, well, pretty drugged up. And while the Vicodin helped to alleviate the throbbing pain in his bicep, it also served to alleviate Mike's mood in general -- so much so that he hadn't had an opportunity yet to really consider the ramifications of the kidnapping and deaths that had followed. "Yo!" he said, sitting up at the sound of Mikael's voice. He'd just been given another dose of pain medication and was already feeling the effects; lightheaded and woozy, Mike wasn't much of a coherent conversationalist. Gesturing to his sling, he continued, "I can't play COD like this, doesn't that blow? I'm bored as fuck." "It does blow," Mikael agreed goodnaturedly. He pulled a chair close to Mike's bed and then sat in it, crossing a leg across his lap in order to get comfortable. He sighed and glanced at Mike. "I guess you're lucky I decided to visit your sorry ass. I can't promise to be a good conversationalist, though." That was never something Mikael could promise. It was like he was contractually obligated to be as mute as possible by virtue of being Icelandic, a dude, and predisposed to bouts of shyness. "Have you had any other visitors?" Mike shrugged, wincing as pain instantly shot through his arm. "Ow," he muttered, rubbing at the bandages with his uninjured hand. "I really need to like, remember not to fucking do that." He blinked, trying to focus on Mikael's words. "Daisy came earlier. She was all, I can't believe you got shot! And I was like, oh shit I'm sorry, and then I was all, oh and fuck you're going to be pissed at me." Mike paused, gathering his thoughts. The Vicodin working through his system was making it increasingly difficult to make sense of anything at all. "So then, uh. Then she asked why, and I told her about the shit with Clara, and then -- " He hesitated, attempting to recall what had happened next. It was all, in truth, very fuzzy. "And then I think she left?" There was a brief silence. "Yeah, and then she left." "Oh," said Mikael, not knowing what to say or think about that. He had a lot of questions about what the fuck Mike was talking about, but he was also still trying to sort it all out. The other guy was rambling so it was hard to follow the track of his thoughts. But naturally he latched onto the part about Clara first, as he asked, "What shit with Clara?" "Oh," Mike said, his brows furrowing in thought. "The thing where she came to visit me back in Canada, you know at the warehouse? After you and Conner came, and Conner gave me my phone, and --" He stopped talking, giving Mikael a slightly vacant look. "Sorry, what were we talking about? Oh right. Clara." Shifting slightly in his bed, he continued. "So anyway, Clara came and then I was like man this is hard, and she was like yeah, it's hard. And so we broke up, you know? And I think I told her you were in love with her, but I'm not sure whether that happened." He paused, licking his lips. "That might have been a dream, actually. I don't really know." Frowning suddenly, he gave Mikael another bemused glance. "Hold up, what if that was all a dream? What if I didn't break up with Clara? Shit, what if she thinks we're still together but it's like that Mad Men episode, yo, you know, where Roger Sterling -- Roger's the fucking bomb -- was all, we should get a divorce. But they were high on LSD and so it like, confused the shit outta his wife when he mentioned it sober. "What if it's something like that?" "Um." Mikael stared at his shoes, the toe of one scuffed up enough that it was nearly worn through into a visible hole. He didn't know what to say, or even what to think or feel. He was beginning to think that this was a bad idea, and that he should come back later when Mike was not so visibly hopped up on painkillers. But he had just gotten there and it would be awkward to leave (perhaps not as awkward as staying and sitting through this heinous topic of conversation, but Mikael supposed this was some sort of punishment for wanting to kiss Clara when she was dating someone else) so he stayed. "I don't know. You can text her and ask her if she did come to visit you, I guess." He shifted uncomfortably. "No," Mike muttered, shaking his head. "No, I think she did, because I remember the nurse was there, right, and I told her I was just like fucking Fifty Cent, you know, and then Clara was there. And we broke up." There was a short silence as Mike concentrated on the events of the past few days, his thoughts hazy at best. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what happened," he said lazily, giving Mikael a resolute look. "I guess it wasn't really gonna work out anyway, because you're totally fucking into her and that's awkward, you know? And then I think I dig Lydie, but yo, relationships are overrated and she's into Jonas, you know, even though he hooked up with some other chick or something, which I only know because Lydie mentioned it that one time." Easing himself into a more comfortable position, he cocked his head, his expression thoughtful. "So I think I'm just gonna hook up with mad chicks. When's the next Pub Night?" Mikael blinked. And then he frowned slightly, the only indication that he was annoyed by what Mike was saying. "I don't know," he said in response to Mike's question. "If you dig Lydie, why don't you hook up with her?" It sounded a lot less waspish in his head but, as was so often the case with things Mikael said, the transition from brain to mouth had made it quite acerbic. Mike frowned, not Mikael's biting tone (that, luckily, had gone right over Mike's drug-addled head), but rather at what his words implicated. "I can't hook up with her, she's my friend. And she's into Jonas, and I don't want a relationship because that really didn't work out, and Daisy'd yell at me if I hooked up with another Flamingo chick, and Daisy can be kind of terrifying when she's pissed off, you know?" "And I'm really not about to jump into anything serious again, man. Dating here is dumb. Raph and Jonas were right." "Oh," was Mikael's quiet response. He didn't quite agree with that assessment, though he knew better than to argue with Mike on that point. Mikael wasn't exactly looking for relationships either, no matter how many times he let Clara talk his ear off about setting him up with girls all over IVI. But he wasn't about to swear it off forever. He shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, dude." "So," Mike said, his mind already veering off in an entirely different direction. "So, what the fuck am I supposed to do if I can't play Call of Duty? Because I can't," he pointed to his arm for emphasis, "With this thing. It sucks, doesn't it? It totally blows." "I don't know, dude," Mikael said with another shrug of his shoulders. "Watch movies, maybe. I'm sure there's tons of movies you still want me to watch. It sucks though. I guess I'm going to have to dump you for Hugo." Mike snorted. "Please. I'm way cooler than Hugo could ever be." His limbs felt heavy, but he made the effort to lift his uninjured arm all the same, fist raised to bump against Mikael's own. "Besides, we're bros." "Yeah," Mikael said as he raised his own fist to Mike's. He had initially thought that was a dumb gesture of brotherhood but had become so easily adjusted to everything involved in Mike's "bro code" that he had accepted it by now. Fists now bumped, Mikael leaned back in his chair again, crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs before him. "You are so high right now." "So high," Mike agreed, gifting his friend with a broad grin. "And man, I feel awesome." He would have to deal with the repercussions of the kidnapping soon enough; even in his current state, Mike knew this much. But right now, with the Vicodin coursing through his system and his best friend at his side, he was content. At peace. The pain and hurt, the anxiety -- it could all wait until another day. |