@EtherealDreamer
Marco shrugged.
"It is what it is," he said, smiling crookedly. "I have no one to be with at home anyways, my abuelita is out of the country at the moment."
Marco shrugged.
"It is what it is," he said, smiling crookedly. "I have no one to be with at home anyways, my abuelita is out of the country at the moment."
"Is she in Mexico?" Quinn asked, recovering from the embarrassment quickly. He smiled awkwardly still
"No," Marco said, his smile growing larger. "She is in Greece, she took her newly widowed friend on a vacation."
He laughed softly.
"She said it did the friend no good to sit and sulk, and no better way to do that than go to Greece. She gets discounts on flights because she was a flight attendant for almost 50 years."
"Thats cool. Your abuelita sounds like a nice woman" Quinn said, smiling
(time skip?)
(Sure.)
Marco blinked his eyes open, he had fallen asleep sitting straight up in the mock vinyl chair by Quinn's bed, he stretched, wincing at the kinks in his back and shoulders. Sunlight was streaming and his eyes water, everything had been so dark the past 24 hours that he wasn't used to all this light at once, he put his hands over his eyes and took a deep breath.
Quinn turned slightly, made a slight groan, and continued resting. he could feel the light, but it was warm, and pleasant, encouraging, urging him even, to keep sleeping.
Marco stood up quietly and went into the bathroom, looking in the mirror and running his index finger gently across the obvious stitching that went from below his left ear to right below his bottom lip and winced slightly.
Quinn opened his eyes while he was facing opposite the window. He saw the light streaming in through the window and smiled warmly. He looked around once again, having been so tired and disoriented the night before he didn't really process that he wasn't home. The realization that he was in the hospital hit him like a freight truck. He sat up quickly, and looked around, wondering if Marco was still there. He breathed in and looked out the window
Marco exited the small restroom and stopped when he saw Quinn.
"Hi," he said awkwardly, frozen to the spot he stood in.
Quinn breathed in sharply, then wincing as he exhaled. He took a few deep breaths and smiled at Marco. "Hi. How long have you been up?" he asked. He was grateful that Marco chose to stay, but still felt a twinge of guilt that he was here instead of at home. No better way to relieve that then to try and repay the favor in what little ways he could
"only a little while," Marco said softly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he made his way over to his designated chair and sat down again.
"How's your pain on the…" He waved his hands around and scrunched his face up as he searched for the phrase. "Pain scale?" He said questioningly, hoping Quinn knew what he was trying to say.
Quinn was confused for a second, but as Marco searched for the word he understood. "ah, Not bad. It only hurts to breathe too hard. Other than that I'm fine" He smiled. He noticed that the other man's hair looked cute, even for having just woken up. Then he began to notice what he hadn't the night before. Both about Marco and about himself. They had gone through something terrible, and he had no idea if it was being covered past "Bombing on a New Station". He turned to Marco, sitting up "Have they covered the incident on the news? I mean, I know it's gotten some attention, it must have, but do they know why?"
"I heard from a nurse that they're getting interviews from all the journalists, specifically ones…" Marco paused and quirked an eyebrow. "Affected."
He turned to look out the rectangular glass window on the door.
"She said they've positioned journalists and newscasters at ERs and hospitals all over the city." He shook his head in slight disgust.
He then turned back to face Quinn and ran a hand through his loose curls quickly out of anger.
"I mean really, I know I'm a journalist but I'm disappointed, at least let the 'victims' apparently is what they're calling everyone…" He paused "injured, at least let them have time to heal, it hasn't even been a full day." He shook his head again.
"At least let them have enough time to come to terms with what happened."
He sat up straighter, placing his elbows on his knees and lacing his hands together.
"People died." He said gravely. "And they're not even trying to hide the fact that they would willingly put their job before sympathy and as a journalist I'm very disappointed."
Quinn's face twisted in disgust. "It's barely the morning after, and they're already, I mean at this point this is what it is, harassing the injured. These people have barely had time to heal, let alone accept their new reality. Some people lost limbs, and they're already bothering them with questions about their trauma before it's even set in!" He was honestly furious. He ran a thin hand across his face and set his chin in said hand.
"Honestly, the media needs to chill for a bit. People died. People got mutilated. We got lucky. I only survived because you're a good person." He said the last bit mostly to make a point "And they're putting a good story over people's lives. This is not the industry I signed up for"
Marco pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded.
"I know," he said softly. "How would they have felt if it had been their building? It's selfishness really, when you get to the bottom of it, because they do not care for the injured or traumatized as people but rather just another story. Which just makes them more money, benefiting them."
He shook his head slowly.
"I've never interviewed someone and been aggressive. Because I respect them as people but these people are thinking only about themselves overall."
"Ah, yes." He sighed. "The media never quits. The press, the paparazzi, the story writers. Everyone is just looking for their big scoop and 5 seconds of fame" He scoffed and got up, walking to the window. He stood with his hands wrung, two first fingers pressed to his lips. Silent for a while. He seemed to light up when he turned around, walking straight out of the room without speaking a word to Marco.
He walked directly up to the nurse's desk, not a hint of his previous anxiety triumphing over his determination. He asked if he could sign himself out. He was an adult, and he felt fine. They made him sign a waiver, but they let him go nonetheless. He walked back into the room. "I'm gonna go do something about this. I don't know what yet, or exactly how, but someone has to do something. You can come with me, or go home. Whatever you want to do" He said, entering the bathroom and closing the door, changing into some normal clothes
Marco waited patiently in the vinyl hospital chair. He was going to stick with Quinn. I mean after all they were soul tied in a way, like his family used to explain, by something awful but soul tied nonetheless.
They had come this far together, why back down now?
Quinn came out of the hospital restroom dressed casually in dark blue denim jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black and white plaid flannel. He wore slightly scuffed white vans and a silver chain on one of his left belt loops. He smiled at Marco, putting his small belongings that had survived in his pockets. "You coming?"
Marco stood up stiffly and awkwardly.
"And where exactly are we going..?" He said. Slightly afraid of the answer. Quinn seemed like he was impulsive which could get him hurt, especially this soon after his injuries.
"I don't know yet, but I'll go crazy if i stay here any longer" Quinn replied, casually. He didn't know what to do yet, but he knew he had to do something
Marco nodded.
"Maybe we should think this through first." He said nervously.
"Maybe. But I can't stay in this hospital. We can think it through elsewhere" Quinn said calmly
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