As the wheels turned slightly in the opposite directions, the man sombrely turned his head, trying to face the one standing behind him.
"Here, you have to make sure you keep your strength up remember!"
A plate with steaming mashed potatoes and some sausage was placed on his lap. The meal looked appetizing enough, but it made him look away. He wasn't very hungry lately.
"Please, you haven't eaten anything since last night. You're starting to worry me." He watched as the man's' forced smile started to fade away. He didn't care. And why should he? He was the one who-
No. He shouldn't think like that. It wasn't the others' fault. It was his own.
On that note, trying to ignore the others' attempts for him to eat meant staring blankly ahead, willing himself to forget everything.
He didn't notice when the plate was taken off his lap, nor did he feel the others' soft touch against his forehead as he drifted off.
Nor did he notice the visitors. Well, he did, but he certainly pretended not to. He didn't like when the woman walked through the front door, being let in by the other man and trailing behind him into the kitchen to chat over some coffee. He didn't try to focus in on their conversation. Boredom forced him to.
"How is he doing?" It was hard to hear her; they were both whispering quietly to each other.
"As good as he can be. To be honest, I'm surprised he even survived the attack, he was... He was laying there for at least a half hour by himself." The man sounded concerned, and almost like...
"You don't have to blame yourself."
He heard a sigh of exhaustion come from the kitchen.
"Liz, you don't understand. If I hadn't have made him so angry that night, he wouldn't have ran out like that. I pushed him too far; it certainly wasn't his fault that he was mugged, was it?" The man had to pause for a moment before he could continue, he was raising his voice a little too much.
"It sure as Hell isn't his fault that he can't use his legs now, is it Elizabeta?"
Everything seemed to pause. The woman gasped.
"When did you... When did they tell you?"
The man turned away. "The doctors didn't tell me, Liz. Roderich didn't even tell me. I figured it out the other day when I was over. I was going to help him with his rehab, I was all,
'Roddy, you're not gonna be able to walk with this attitude, are you?' because he wouldn't let me pick him up, you know, to stand him up. He was getting really angry. I was only joking. I thought he was joking when he said he couldn't walk with or without his attitude. I kept at it, and he started yelling at me, he had tears streaming down his face, and he was yelling at me to get out. He looked so fragile, Liz."
Roderich was just blankly staring outside the window again. His eyes didn't move as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a hummingbird at one of his feeders. Gilbert had put it there over a year ago, and Roderich had always made sure it was full. He hadn't checked it since before the incident. The hummingbird flew off with an empty stomach.
Elizabeta was holding Gilbert now, she was rocking him slowly, back and forth.
"You know how Roderich is. He's quiet, he likes his peace. He probably just wanted to tell us at the right time."
"I called his aunt this morning."
"...What did she say?"
It seemed like they were both waiting for an answer before Gilbert replied with, "She didn't know he was mugged."
He broke apart from Elizabeta and went over to the fridge, to put away Roderich's already-wrapped plate of mashed potatoes and sausage, the one that hadn't been touched earlier. "He hasn't told anyone about the small fact that he can't walk anymore because, oh, he was jumped by three pickpockets, no big deal! But the good news is, they only stole thirteen dollars and five cents, that's fan-fucking-tastic!"
Gilbert lashed out. A chair crashed to the ground. Roderich flinched at that; only slightly, but enough for Gilbert and Elizabeta to realize he was awake.
They both had gone into a sort of trance, the one that people would usually reserve for children, and elderly people that were in seniors' homes.
Elizabeta walked around to the front of the old wheelchair, making sure she didn't make any sudden movements; she didn't know whether or not he had any trauma from the attack, but she wasn't taking any chances.
"Hey Roderich, how are you feeling?" Of course, she already knew he was feeling pretty shitty.
Roderich had to break his comfortable gaze to look at his friend. She didn't look very good. To be honest, the trio all looked a bit shaken.
"Alri-" He cleared his throat.
"I'm doing alright."
Gilbert saw through that lie.
"Bullshit, Roddy. You've been staring out that window since you got back from the hospital. You were probably listening to that whole conversation."
Elizabeta looked sad, with a veil of worry draped over her face.
"Roderich, you need to get out. You need some inspiration, you need to start writing more music. That'll cheer you up."
Gilbert perked up at that suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds like a grea-"
"You think... that I need to get out?" Roderich suddenly looked focused. Gilbert and Elizabeta suddenly looked confused at his sudden involvement.
Roderich continued with a fire in his eyes. "You're saying that I need to get out, when the whole reason I was attacked was because I went out? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Roderich, you know that's different. That could have happened to any other pers-"
"No that wouldn't have. And do you know why?" If he could stand to meet Elizabeta's height, he would do it in a second.
"Because people know me. They think I'm rich! They think a composer like me is rich! I knew this was going to happen one day, I was just waiting for it! Except I didn't expect to end up stuck in a wheelchair, trying to explain why I'm fucking depressed!" Roderich was expressing himself very abruptly with his wild arm gestures during his rant.
Which is why he was so tired after. He suddenly slouched over in the wheelchair, his face in his hands.
"I don't care right now. Do what you want with me; I'm stuck in this wheelchair, you could do just about anything right now- it's not like I can just walk away from you."
The other two were shocked. Firstly, Roderich had just erupted, which wasn't normal for him, but they occasionally saw that side to him. Secondly that he had just... given up so easily. He was a very stubborn man; he had never done something this out of character before.
Well, Gilbert took the chance.
"Alright Roddy! Let's go to the park then!"
"Gilbert Beilschmidt, are you out of your mind?" Elizabeta had a mixture of anger and confusion written on her face.
"Quite the opposite. Come on, let's pack a lunch and we can have a picnic!" Gilbert's gears were turning in his head, Elizabeta just wasn't sure if it was the good working gears- like the ones Gilbert's younger brother possess-, or the stupid ones- which were truly Gilbert's very own.
My goodness, I never actually expected this to be more than one chapter! I already have part of the second chapter finished, I just have to fight off this silly writer's block! Gosh dangit!
I don't plan out any of my stories before they just… happen! So I'm not too sure when I'll be updating, but hopefully soon! In the meantime, adieu~