She taps at his heart and he grins in that apoplectic way of his, red hair fanned out to cover the whiteness of the stark white sheets.
Pretty oh pretty blood cover me devil-
Then the nurse comes in and he is forced to grin, grin, grin cuz that's all he does in situations like those. Situations where the goddamn paint on the ceiling is coming off and BAM, the needle slips into his arms like paper.
Wood paper, he thinks, cuz that fucking hurts.
The nurse, he thinks. Quite pretty. Hates being called a nurse. Never one for names, he was, but that didn't stop him from using titles.
Pretty boy-
Blondie-
Keytomyheart-
He always laughs when the last one is mentioned. Both of them do and then WHAM, he's forced to drink piss and pills.
Then, on rare days when he can talk bullshit and act like he's normal (acting is goddamn fun), he sings and recites poetry he pulls out of his ass.
"I am the King of the Highest Order of Junkies!" He spits out, grinning, all 27 teeth gleaming in the light of the lord-like beams. "I drink Apple Juice from a bowl and laugh when you call me short!"
He wasn't the greatest poet, but it made Blondie smile.
11 teeth.
Wow, and then THANK YOU, when the nurse wraps him in so many blankets its hard to move, he swears he's suffocating-
Blackblackheartiwishyouoffthewallcouldyoumakeiteasieronme?satisfied
He's sung to sleep, goddamn child he is, wrapped in blankets so tight it's like they've all turned goddamn medieval and nothing bothers them, no.
Another day, another night and then MA'AM, called to a little blond one passing by his door- tap tap tapping his heart, he knows- but she keeps on walking, swaying her paper hips and paper hair and paper heart.
Pretty Boy comes in and he grins 27 teeth.
"Aloha, R-"
Then THUNK, he's out like a light on Christmas eve.
-
Standard Disclaimer, yo.