Out of the Light [Ilyas]

[alexander jay garcía torres]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1076.photobucket.com/albums/w450/BluuBluuie/alexcoding.png); border-radius: 50px; border: #867457 1px solid; padding-top: 15px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom:15px] Damaged ribs, head trauma, concussion, visible bruising, possible internal bleeding... and they still said that he'd been lucky. Doctors were quite an optimistic breed, weren't they? They had talked as if the injuries Ray had sustained weren't all that bad. Alex begged to differ. The bandages on Ray were thick and too white, the one that swathed his head was particularly discomforting because he'd gotten an eyeful of what was exactly under that one. It hadn't been pretty. Little guy had dry-heaved for ten minutes straight into the paper bag given to him in case he'd had a panic attack. Alex shifted in the seat by Ray's bed. He was hooked up to all these things that supposedly were helping him, monitoring him, keeping him safe. But, to Alex, it just looked ghastly and scary. The man that lay in the bed was usually so tall and proud... it was terrifying seeing him so small and frail because of one accident that'd gotten out of hand. Alex swallowed and forced himself to look away. He didn't like this. The steady beep... beep... beep... of one of Ray's monitors was something that Alex swore was going to be drummed into his head for an eternity. But he listened intently to it as he continued to pick fine and whispy black hairs off the leather jacket. This had all happened because of this stupid thing. Someone should just throw it away or something in case it was a bad luck token. Alex's brown bag crinkled eerily loud in the almost total silence of the ward, putting Tootie's hairs into it so he didn't dirty the impeccable tiled flooring. The least he could do was make the jacket presentable and wearable again. Ray'd almost died because of it. Alex had calmed down considerably by now. His breathing was back to normal although his chest still burned slightly and he was rather tired, as if he'd ran a short marathon or something. But he couldn't sleep. He needed to be awake. One of the nurses had told him to go home, rest, sleep, eat... but he couldn't. It'd be impossible for him to do any of things knowing that Ray was here, lay in some hospital bed, because he'd fucking sprayed mace in his face. Plus, Alex needed to get numbers out of Ray. His partner was probably worried sick and fretting over his possible whereabouts. The sprite chewed his bottom lip nervously and stole another glimpse at the unconscious man. He looked down at his feet, clad in thick, woollen socks and donning some slippers given by the hospital. Alex was still in his pyjamas though. He hadn't really thought to grab anything when he went to lock the car, but what he was wearing wasn't so bad... and anyway! Who cared about that? Not him. Not when he was growing an unhealthy obsession with making sure the beeps kept beeping and the drip kept dripping. [/style] tagged: ilyas! notes: hehe outfit: clicky!

[ilyas aylin]

Flames. Fire, everywhere. They reached up high, all the way to the sky, higher than any man to walk the earth, higher than the clouds, swallowing all in its path. There was no escape. Screams of agony, screams of pain. Pleas that never ended, pleas for help, pleas to be saved. His name, cried out, but he wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t save them. He couldn’t save them.


Ilyas’ dreams were often dark; tonight, despite the head injury, was no exception. Hands had slowly clenched into fists as he lay there in the hospital bed; the most comfortable thing he’d slept on in quite a while. His brows would faintly furrow every so often, but other than that, he showed little sign of life. Near the bed stood a small table, normally empty and it served the purpose to place a tray on to present patients a good meal. Now, it displayed a little plant, but the leafs were fake, made of plastic. There was also a book, a thick one, most likely a bible. And there stood a glass of water, probably for Alex, since Ilyas wasn’t going to be drinking from it anytime soon. Or, was he?

As the frown on the man’s face deepened, the water in the glass started to stir. First, it slightly flowed from side to side, but with nowhere to go, that effect was barely visible. And then, out of the blue and against all rules of nature, it froze over, solid and into one piece, the glass nearly breaking under the pressure of the ice.

A pair of blue eyes slowly fluttered open. He just lay there, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling, his sight still blurry, but whether that was due to the mace or the bump against his head was unsure. Breathing shallow, the beeping of the machinery by his side ongoing at a rhythmic pace, creating a disturbing melody. He just blinked slowly; the ceiling was so white. This could’ve impossibly been the place he’d fell asleep at. But then, where did he fall asleep? He was in bed, he must’ve been asleep.

Some vague shards, he remembered. A malicious cat and its backstabbing owner. He remembered the mace; how could he not, damn it? And he remembered.. a light, or, it were two lights, actually. Slowly, the man averted his eyes slightly to the left, in an attempt to discover where he was. He must’ve been drinking, because he had one hell of a headache. That’d also explain why he had such a gap in his memory. Everything in this room was white, meaning that this could hardly be someone’s bedroom, unless they had really poor taste. Tilting his head slightly – ow, that hurt – the man glanced at his hand. It was punctured by a needled, as he’d feared. That concluded where he was, at least.

His eyes fell shut for a moment again; man, they were heavy and they hurt. Aftermath of mace? Probably. Ilyas scanned the ceiling once again, which hadn’t changed since a moment ago, and slowly aimed his gaze to the right now. His eyebrows slightly rose, for as far as that was possible, since even that hurt. Someone was sitting by his bed. Alex? What was that boy doing here? He looked nervous, chewing his lip, his eyes looking at practically everything but the bed. Ilyas’ lips parted slowly, but no sound came from his throat, his voice stuck in a place where he couldn’t currently find it. And this headache and wooziness made it so darn difficult to concentrate. He turned his eyes back towards the ceiling, because for some reason, that was least painful.

[alexander jay garcía torres]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1076.photobucket.com/albums/w450/BluuBluuie/alexcoding.png); border-radius: 50px; border: #867457 1px solid; padding-top: 15px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom:15px] The sound of Ray's slight shifting his bed was enough to catch Alex's attention. He whipped his head around so fast that it took a second to catch up with himself. But, surely enough, there was the man in the bed moving with small, weak yet deliberate movements. He was awake though finally, which was the good thing. Alex hadn't exactly expected him to jump out of his bed and demand to leave or anything like that with all those injuries he had right now. The sprite poised himself on the edge of his seat and watched Ray cautiously as he came to terms with where he was. The doctor had said that a spot of amnesia brought on by his head injury was a possibility but that they had to wait until Ray had came around before they evaluated that. Alex stopped worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, leaving it noticeably redder and bitten, and leaned forward a bit, getting closer to Ray. He held up the leather jacket and lay it on top of the man's blanket, deciding that he'd probably appreciate being reunited with a piece of clothing that he'd gone through so much trouble to get back. "You, um, got hit by a pick-up." Alex mumbled guiltily, looking down at his spidery fingers as he picked at his thumb's cuticle. "I'm just... really sorry. I didn't, y'know, mean for this to happen. " He honestly hadn't. He wouldn't have wished that the guy would get hit by a truck in the library that day if he knew something similar would actually happen. Okay. Maybe in that moment of time he kind of meant it but... not really! Not, like, deep down or anything! But, despite the situation, Alex was tempted to deadpan out a: "But, yeah... the doctor's couldn't save your legs". It'd be mean, he knew that, but it didn't make the temptation lessen any. Thankfully though, Alex managed to keep his lips sealed and his mind occupied in destroying his cuticle. Another bad habit of his. Hell, Alex was made out of them. A nurse popped her head between the pale blue curtains and, seeing Ray awake, slipped inside with a clipboard held tightly against her body, a warm smile on her face. Alex already disliked her. She was too... cheery. Probably trying to hit on Ray or something. She didn't half have some nerve, taking advantage that the poor guy was pretty much invalid in bed. Alex narrowed his eyes slightly as she tottered past, ushering Alex back into his chair so she could do.. nursey-things. Like check the IV line, the needle in his hand, Ray's temperature and, y'know, nursey-things. Alex tried not to scowl faintly at her, probably making something out of nothing with his behaviour, and turned to his glass of water on the side. Which was frozen? When had that happened? Alex looked around quickly - some kids pranking him possibly? Hmm. With careful fingers, Alex picked the frozen glass up and studied it for a moment, his slender eyebrows climbing up his forehead before they disappeared under his mop of messy hair. He rolled it about in his hand and surveyed it in the light from the lamp. "Huh..." Maybe he was going crazy? Alex turned back around in his chair, pressing the iced glass up to his temple, and was relieved to see that the nurse had gone. He didn't like her at all. It was that... smile of hers. He wasn't imagining it. Alright, maybe he was a bit behind on sleep but that didn't mean anything here! "How're y'feelin', Ray?" [/style] tagged: ilyas! notes: hehe outfit: clicky!

[ilyas aylin]

Hit by a pick-up? A truck? Wow. Apparently, some people always got what they wanted, and others got what they deserved. Did the boy have a genie in a lamp or something? That would explain some, at least; this could hardly be called a coincidence. Then again, no adult man believed in genies. Poltergeists and haunting spirits? Yes. Genies? No. The familiar sight of his jacket was at least somewhat of a relief. The man quickly pulled it closer and ran a hand over the fabric, until he found what he wanted to feel. It was still there. Thank Heavens, it was still there.

Before Ilyas could attempt to reply again, someone else butted in on their ‘conversation’. A nurse. She had a warm smile and a voice that didn’t instantly make Ilyas’ ears bleed, but despite that and her best effort, the blonde wasn’t going to be comfortable here. So dependent, so weak, so fragile. This surely wasn’t the way he liked to present himself. Usually, he hid himself away from the world, if he went through a phase like this; minus the physical injuries, that was. All those people watching his every move, the machines all around; it all made him terribly nervous. And the thought of having a needle in his hand was unnerving as well. What were they pumping into his body, without his permission?

The lady placed a couple of pills on the bedside table and told the man to take those, if he experienced any pain. Apparently, one wasn’t supposed to be in pain in a hospital; quite the opposite of what Ilyas thought. He hated the hospital, he disliked the people here – although that really wasn’t just the case in a hospital, it was rather a worldwide, an everywhere thing. The man wasn’t planning to take the pills; modern medication couldn’t be trusted. It was merely a poison that fooled the brain into feeling differently. Ilyas suffered from headaches often, almost daily. This one, too, would pass by itself, eventually. He’d suck it up and.. and wince.

It was best not to move his head, because every time he did, the pounding only increased. Slowly, the man brought a hand up to his head, but as soon as it landed, his fingers felt the soft cloth that was bandaged around his head. Uh oh. That couldn’t be good.

“Oh, wonderful,” the blonde murmured in Alex’s direction, his voice still cracking a bit, raw and raucous, but at least he’d found the ability to speak again. What answer did this kid expect? He was in a hospital bed after, apparently, getting hit by a car, with a likely huge gash in his skull. That surely makes a man feel reborn. But Ilyas sighed softly. It sometimes would’ve been nice if his sarcasm had an off-switch. Alex meant well, sort of, probably. Maybe. Else he wouldn’t be sitting by this bed in, what Ilyas judged to be, the middle of the night. He could’ve as well sat home in his van, snickering about all that had happened this night. “My head hurts,” Ilyas stated the obvious. How could his head not hurt under these circumstances?

Alex still used the name ‘Ray’. He didn’t have many other options, but for some reason, it was still amusing. At least something interesting had come from that day. And even though Ilyas could likely still laugh just thinking back – although that would probably really hurt right now – that would’ve been terrible cruel. The boy had been punished enough, and the blonde probably hadn’t had the right to use Alex to brighten up his own day, even if the need had been dire. “I’m sorry.” Maybe the blow to his head was to blame for this, but the apology at least sounded sincere this time. “For torturing you.” It felt weird, even awkward to say such a thing; Ilyas didn’t often apologize. You know how some events take a while before both parties could laugh about it? Perhaps the library joke was one of those things, or even this rough car-bump. Not yet funny, though. Too painful still, both physically and pride-wise.

[alexander jay garcía torres]

[atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, background: url(http://i1076.photobucket.com/albums/w450/BluuBluuie/alexcoding.png); border-radius: 50px; border: #867457 1px solid; padding-top: 15px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom:15px] Hearing the bitter satire in Ray's voice allowed Alex to relax some. He was still Ray. The pick-up truck hadn't seemed to knock his sarcastic trait out of him so that was good news. Kind of. He frowned gently when the man said his head hurt. Yeah, that one was a given. Must be sore if Ray was actually admitting that it ailed him. Alex tilted his head in the direction of the pills the nurse had left behind, gesturing at them. "You should take those then... it'll help." Alex suggested, bringing the gelid glass down from his temple and looking at the water frozen solid inside. "But I think you'll need fresh water 'cause... like... I didn't do this." He eyed Ray curiously while he spoke. Was there a chance that he might have had something to do with this bizarre happening? Alex knew that there were a handful of other sprites in Honey Tree but there wasn't really any way to tell who was one and who wasn't from just looking at them. For all he knew, Ray could be one of those water ones. Sighing gently, Alex brought the glass tumbler back up to his forehead. The smooth, freezing sides were beginning to thaw against his skin, leaving a trail of damp wherever he rolled the glass over him. It felt good though, relaxing even. Occasionally he'd dry himself a bit with his other hand which he'd proceed to wipe on his plaid pyjama bottoms. His caramel eyes never left Ray once though, waiting patiently for anything else to come out of the man. But when he spoke again though, Alex hoped that he'd concealed his surprise well. That had been one of the last things he'd expected out of the man; an apology. And it'd sounded quite sincere as well, miles more honest than the lame, sarcastic apology he'd gotten in the library. It was, y'know, pretty touching. Maybe that pick-up had quite literally knocked some sense into him, or some heart or whatever. "Yeah, well... I might've been askin' for it, huh?" Alex muttered with the tiniest shrug of his shoulders. He gave Ray a small, half-smile and looked away, down at his knees, pressing the glass against his flushing cheeks. "I didn't mean to spray you, y'know? I jumped. And I should've kinda tried harder to get Tootie off your jacket before." But Alex had an idea that Ray had found out for himself the very reason why that'd been practically impossible. Mace seemed to scare her off though. The sprite just hoped she hadn't gotten any in her nose, eyes or fur... maybe he'd ring JD up to just make sure she'd reappeared and was alright. "You should give the nurse numbers, y'know," Alex quickly said, remembering that his partner hadn't been notified that he was here. "You've been here a good couple of hours now... won't they be worried about where you are?" [/style] tagged: ilyas! notes: hehe outfit: clicky!

[ilyas aylin]

The pills still weren’t of Ilyas’ interest, even though they might’ve helped easing the headache he was currently suffering from. For all he knew, they might’ve had a completely different effect on him anyway and he was already far too dependent. What if they'd numb his entire body, making him even more unable to move than he was now? Hell no.

His eyes fell on the glass. Oh, great. Sleep, and particularly dreams, were one of those little moments that Ilyas had no control over his abilities. He once froze over part of a river after passing out on the shore there after having a decent amount of alcohol. As cool as that sounded, it was still also a somewhat scary thought. He usually kept his ability hidden from unfriendly eyes, but in his sleep, he was apparently unable to do so. And now, Alex knew too. As quickly as his body would allow him to, Ilyas reached towards the glass. His fingers touched the glass and almost instantly, the water returned to its original state. At least it was decently chilled now. Was Alex going to take advantage of this newfound information? Probably. How, he wasn’t yet sure, but it was bound to happen one day or another. The kid felt guilty now for all that’d happened this past night, but that, too, would pass. Perhaps he’d want to use Ilyas as his personal ice cube; he currently looked like he was in need of one, his face a little red and heated.

“You take them.” That wasn’t meant as snappy as it came rolling over Ilyas’ lips, but old habits were hard to break. There was just something about him that always made him come across as cold, as harsh, and frankly, he wouldn’t have it any other way; it kept many people at a distance. He liked that, even if it wasn’t always in his own best interest.

Asking for it? No kidding. Ilyas usually gave warnings, and he’d done so by telling the guy not to touch him; it was Alex who brought everything upon himself by ignoring the request. But his apology earned Ilyas one in return. “It’s fine,” he mumbled, although his eyes were now still dry and a bit painful. Tootie, was that the cat’s name? Lord, that was almost as bad as Pablo Puffy. But currently, the blonde could care less; his jacket was laying on the bed now, that was all that mattered. If only Alex understood why he’d wanted to have it back so badly.

The man winced softly again, but this time not because he was in pain. A couple of hours he’d been here? Damn it, how long had he been out? Quite adorable, how Alex thought anyone would be worried about the blonde. There was no one missing him, no one who cared where he was. Had he died in that accident, no one would’ve even come to his funeral. Maybe the alleyway where he crashed these days to sleep would feel empty; poor dark, garbage-filled, narrow street. Many homeless would’ve counted themselves blessed to have landed in the hospital, because it provided them with a warm bed, meals and a roof over their heads. Not this guy. Even the cold street sounded more appealing currently and he was planning to return to it soon. Very soon. But he’d need a little help, some distraction.

A faint smile started to play on his lips as he gazed at the boy by his bed. “I should write some down, I guess,” he agreed with a nod. This was a helpful kid, wasn’t he? Could a small smile perhaps charm him into being a little useful? “Could you get me some paper? And maybe a cup of coffee?” Whether or not he was even allowed to eat or drink anything else but water, Ilyas didn’t know, nor did he really care. Making coffee took a little while, like, a minute or two. That’d give the blonde about a minute or two to get the hell out of this place. If anyone – in their right mind or not – thought he was staying even a second longer in this hospital, they’d be in for a lovely surprise. A simple head injury wasn’t enough to keep the man bedbound, especially not in an infirmary.