#Recovery whump

[distinctlywhumpthing]

First Night Home pt. 1

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Aiden wishes he could know the way home by heart. Feel a sense of comfort, that indescribable pull, as familiarity marks the closing distance to the place where he belongs. It’s a foolish, naked yearning. One that hangs in the spotlight of his focus a moment too long, leaving him feeling just as exposed. 

He spreads his fingers on his legs to stop from curling them into fists. Curling his toes in his shoes is a cheap substitute for grounding himself but at least it keeps that look off Leo’s face. 

The one that confirms Aiden is a burden he didn’t sign up for, companion or not. 

“Almost there,” Leo says, pulling away from a stop sign and turning left. 

His stomach drops and he turns toward the window to hide his face. 

Just like the first night, he has no idea what to expect when they arrive. He should be able to grant Leo a fraction of the trust he has felt but is always unable to find when he needs it most. It’s overwhelmed too easily, road salt cloudy headlights on an unlit route, feeble light swallowed by darkness before it can illuminate anything more than the rush of pavement before it disappears. His catastrophizing is stunted by exhaustion but the longer they drive down the winding roads, the more his stomach knots and twists, anticipation-turning-to-dread the only mile marker he has. He worries about losing to his nausea, as much as a passenger in his body as he is in the car, heading toward the inevitable. 

When Leo turns off the road, Aiden panics even more, scanning the row of four identical condos, porch lights still casting a dim glow in the pre-dawn light. He doesn’t recognize anything, except Leo’s work van at the end of the shared driveway. Shame rises along with the bile in his stomach. It’s disrespectful to Leo and the invitation to share any part of his home––to entertain it as a place he could pretend to belong—if he can’t even recognize it from the outside.

For fuck’s sake, it’s the barest of minimums required to lay claim to any place.

He bites back his apology. Stutters won’t be the only thing that comes out if he opens his mouth just now. He wouldn’t be able to articulate the transgression anyway. Little progress he made earlier trying to explain he wasn’t trying to run from Leo at the hospital, that he was just trying to give him a shot at getting his life back. The one before he took on a damaged—

“Home sweet home.” Leo kills the engine and lets his head fall back against the headrest with a sigh.

Aiden lowers his gaze, guilt swirling in his stomach. Again, the apology is on the tip of his tongue but his eyes start to burn hot with tears. He will not cry again. He cannot. He bites the inside of his cheek and the taste of blood is a quick distraction. 

Worse than dissolving into a crying mess would be getting sick in Leo’s sister’s car. 

Leo’s on the move anyway. With another sigh, he gets out, leaving Aiden alone to clap his good hand over his mouth and force deep breaths in and out through his nose. He even closes his eyes to beg himself to be capable this time. Better for this second-second chance. Easier after everything. 

Little good it does. 

By the time Leo reaches his door, Aiden is resigned to ducking around him to throw up. The bar lowered to please just don’t get sick on Leo’s shoes. 

The cold air hits him in a blast when Leo reaches the door and helps him out. He blinks against the sharp sting of it, both hands gripping Leo’s forearm. Another lungful of brisk winter morning and the nausea settles. 

His next inhale is full of sky. Deep blue night softening with the light of day from one horizon to the other. A whisper of purple hinting at the brilliance of more colors soon to come. He could stay here forever, taking in the spectrum of dark to light, the stars fading out in the west and the sun soon to rise in the east. He watched the sunrise a few times from the bedroom window upstairs but he can’t remember the last time he stood under a sky like this. 

Or the last time he was outside in daylight at all. 

“Hon, you alright?”

Leo’s expression has probably passed concern because Aiden let a few tears escape. They’ve already slid down his cheeks, warm at the outset, their wakes chilled in the fresh morning air. 

He wipes his face with his sleeve, still looking up. “Thank you,” he hears himself whisper and somehow it comes out crystal clear. He wishes he could say more, thank Leo for this morning sky he had nothing and everything to do with. But he doesn’t trust himself not to ruin it. 

Leo doesn’t say anything back, just wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

As soon as they step inside, he wants to run back to the feeling he found under the sky. But Leo’s exhausted and he already waited with Aiden until the sun started peeking over the horizon. Watching the sun rise wouldn’t stave off the inevitable. It’ll be over in minutes anyway. 

Aiden winds up hovering at the edge of the kitchen, unsure if he should stay out of the way or help. The bags sit on the island, handles still standing at attention from being lifted there. 

Leo relieves him of any guesswork by setting a glass of water on the island. “Think you can drink this?” 

He nods, grateful for an easy opportunity to be obedient, and slides onto a stool, watching for any reaction from Leo out of habit, but he’s looking down. Aiden’s stomach knots when he realizes he’s reading the slip of paper from the doctors again. 

If Leo tells him to take any of the medicine, he should. He will. He’ll do anything Leo asks him to. Happily. If what Leo said about finding him is true, he owes him his life twice over, maybe three times if he considers—

“Aiden?”

He jumps and Leo quickly leans over to clamp a hand around his teetering glass.

“M’sorry.” He tucks his hands between his legs, apology not quite audible even to his ears. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“S’okay,” he whispers. 

Leo’s sigh makes him flinch before he can catch himself. 

Leo holds up his hands, one still holding the rescued glass. “Easy, sweetheart. We’re all good. It’s all good.” 

Aiden nods. He’s overreacting, reading into Leo’s every fucking exhale. He’s just overreacting but still, tears are building behind his eyes. He nods again, squeezing his hands into fists but the pain that radiates up his arms makes the tears fall. “M’sorry, m’sorry.” He shakes his hands out at his sides, swipes furiously at the traitorous tears, and refuses—refuses—to meet Leo’s gaze to see how completely exasperated and disappointed he is. “M’sorry, m’sorry—”  

“Aiden. Aiden.” Leo’s beside him now, warm hand on his shoulder making him realize just how much he’s curled forward. “Just breathe. That’s right. You’re okay, you’re good.” 

He nods, sniffling. He needs to pull himself together. “M’sorry, m’sorry.” 

“Hon, look at me.” 

He meets Leo’s eyes, letting himself shelter in the ease of obedience. 

“You’re good, it’s all good. We’ll figure things out together, step by step, in the morning—or, well, later today.” Leo’s soft chuckle, tired as it is, tempts Adien further into the lulls of earned safety and he doesn’t have the energy to resist. Leo rubs his shoulder. “Everything will look a little better after some sleep, yeah?” Leo goes to the sink to top up his glass. “Let’s head up.” 

His stomach drops and maybe even his lungs too because he can’t feel himself breathe anymore. He’s too busy trying to read Leo’s face. What about the mess upstairs? Should he get the bleach? Or is this the moment Leo finally punishes him? 

He follows Leo to the stairs, shoving his shaking hands into the pocket of the hoodie. He knots his fingers together as much as he can without it hurting too much. He’s not sure what they’ll find upstairs. He can only remember blurs and there’s no telling what happened after his memory stops. 

“Better get scrubbing, ‘359.” 

He shakes his head but the flashes of the facility tiles, covered in blood, are so bright in his mind. His hand gripping the banister feels far away, feet climbing the stairs even further. A few more steps and he’ll be able to see the bathroom. 

The blood, the tiles. 

“Aiden?” 

He flinches, attention snapping back to Leo a few steps ahead. “M’good,” he says, too quickly because Leo narrows his eyes. He walks back down and stops one step lower so they’re the same height. 

“There’s no–– there’s nothing to worry about. I asked Jesse to come over while we were out.” 

He nods slowly.  

“Everything’s clean, it’s all good.” 

Aiden hopes he hides his shameful relief better than his lack of understanding. “Mmm’thanks…” It’s not enough. He’ll never be enough. 

Leo holds out his arm. “All good, hon.” 

At the top of the stairs, he goes the extra mile and flicks on every light in the bathroom. The brightness hurts Aiden’s eyes but the bathroom is indeed spotless. 

Like nothing ever happened.

Leo walks him to the second bedroom, sets the glass of water on the desk and clicks on the little lamp. “I’ll get you some clean pajamas.” 

The pressure in the room changes when Leo leaves. 

Aiden’s breath comes easier, inhale and exhale deeper. The air no longer feeling finite to leave space for all the anticipation that accompanies Leo. 

But his relief is quickly spoiled by the discomfort of idleness. 

Using the desk chair for balance, he strips to his underwear, neatly folding the dirty clothes to be put in the hamper in the bathroom. He doesn’t want to see the bandages on his hand or arms, nor the gauze taped to his elbow and collarbone. Any visible trace of blood and Leo will want to check them, clean the stitches, change the bandages, ask him how he’s feeling, if he wants to take something for it and he can’t answer, he can’t look, he can’t handle having Leo examine him like that, so careful like he’s breakable when he’s done all this to himself and— 

He covers his face with his hands. Tries to pull in a deeper breath but the smell of betadine under the bandages makes his stomach churn so he lets his hands fall. 

There’s a smudge on his upper arm. Rubbing at it with his thumb does nothing. He turns to see it in the faint light coming through the window–– 

It’s blood. Dried blood, all over. A ragged stripe of it snaking across his upper arms and chest. He can see it spreading, hear the drip, drip, drip of the faucet he was shaking too much to turn off completely. 

He pinches his eyes shut and shakes his head but when he opens his eyes again it’s even worse. It’s everywhere, splotches up and down his arms, all over his torso. 

Splattered all over the bright, white tiles. 

He can’t get it off. He has to get rid of it. He has to wash away the blood. 

“Scrub those tiles good and clean, ‘359.” 

No, this can’t be happening right now. 

His breath trembles and he can’t fill his lungs anymore but it doesn’t matter because the sounds of his panic have already caught Leo’s attention. 

“Aiden?” 

He spins to face Leo, bumping into the door which hits the wall and makes him jump all over again. His apology comes out as more of a strangled whine. 

“Easy.” Leo makes his movements slow and deliberate as he sets the clothes down. “It’s alright.” 

Aiden nods along. Of course it’s alright. He knows it’s alright but he still can’t seem to catch more than tiny gasps of air at a time. It’s just Leo. He’s here with Leo. He’s––

“Hey, hey, look at me.” 

Leo doesn’t try to move any closer, just holds his gaze. “That’s good, just breathe. We’ve got all the time we need. There’s no rush. Just take it easy. Take some slow, deep breaths.” 

He hates how immediately possible it is when he can hear it as a command. 

“Good, that’s good. You’re good.” 

Hates even more that he sinks his teeth right into all the warmth and relief he can get from the shallow praise, a shiver running up his spine in its wake. But it helps and he can already stand a bit straighter, think, and see a bit clearer. 

Leo waits a few more deep breaths. “All good?” 

“Mhm, m’sorry—” He clears his throat. “I––I––” He steels himself and lets his arms fall, eyes locked on Leo’s expression. 

“Ah. I didn’t think of that.” 

Leo’s frown makes his heart start to race. He crosses an arm over his chest, as if there might be a chance Leo can actually see the hair-trigger reactivity he’s got tonight. 

“I’ll get a washcloth with some soap, I can––” 

“Please––” he chokes out, calves hitting the bed frame. He blinks away Harrison, standing over him, cold and indifferent while he begs and cries. 

“Okay, never mind.” Aiden is still holding his breath so Leo softens his voice. “Hey, hey, easy. Not that one, okay? Forget I suggested it.” 

He drags in a strained breath. “M’sorry.” Forces himself to take a step back toward Leo.

“It’s alright, don’t be sorry. I need to know these things, it’s good you’re telling me.” 

He swallows and looks down. Unsure if he’s more ashamed that Leo has to spell it out for him or that it’s necessary at all. 

“Well, I guess a shower is the next option. What do you think?” 

Aiden nods, trying to look at least a little more composed to face the bathroom. 

“Okay,” Leo says but he doesn’t move. 

Aiden looks down again to let him think. He wants to shake out his arms, and his legs too while he’s at it. Just because he can and that’s why it helps. But he doesn’t want Leo to think he’s impatient. He’d probably tip right over anyway. 

“Sorry, okay, yeah. Just a quick shower, I’ll help you.” He turns and Aiden follows. 

It won’t be as simple as that but it’s a lie of solace they’ll cling to like a life raft. 

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps

@batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight

@whumps-and-bumps @i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney

[martyr-inthedark]

Washing wounds hurts. Washing scrapes and scratches hurts. Rubbing over torn apart skin with a soapy sponge hurts. Cleaning out a pus-oozing infection hurts. A cold shower while having muscle cramps hurts. It all burns and throbs, pain radiating from each and every little opening. Open blisters on the feet light on fire as soapy water runs down off the legs—this almost impossible to stand comfortably and getting in or out of the tub creates a fall risk.

Burns sting like a nest of bees as water pummels the withering flesh. Injuries on the fingers make it hard to thoroughly wash the hair, even as blood, skin, and debris crumble away under the water. Turning your head just the wrong way can get water in your ears or nose or can encourage shampoo to run into the eyes. Plucking shirt fibers from sores with tweezers is a tedious and agitating exercise.

Perhaps even the unraveling towel catches on a loose stitch or staple. Perhaps Whumpee can't recognize themselves the first time they see their reflection in the mirror. Perhaps all Whumpee feels is the aftermath of all they've endured. Perhaps Whumpee has to do it all by themselves, including redressing their wounds.

Bathe your Whumpees, lovelies ✨

[chiharuuu22]

Shhhh! Keep your voice down and don't be loud. Whumpee is sleeping (or has just fallen asleep).

In Caretaker's arms after being rescued.

In a hospital bed in a recovery ward (or perhaps an ICU) after receiving care and treatment or perhaps emergency surgery.

On a bed in a room in a recovery house. Bonus points for the house are that the house belongs to the Caretaker and the bed BELONGS TO CARETAKER (AND CARETAKER'S BEDROOM)!!!!

In the passenger seat. Sleep on your back in the back seat or sleep in a half-sitting position after the seat is lowered slightly on the driver's side seat. Bonus points Caretaker puts on the jacket or coat to cover Whumpee.

On the sofa in front of the fireplace.

In a wheelchair while taking a leisurely walk.

On the couch on the terrace.

On the Caretaker's lap. Bonus points with the accompaniment of Caretaker's soft voice lulling Whumpee to sleep and caressing Whumpee's hair.

Sleep leaning on the Caretaker's shoulder when sitting side by side. Bonus points when they are in a discussion with the team members and Whumpee suddenly falls asleep exhausted.

Anything you want to add?

[sufrimientilia]

healing but with downsides

Caretaker with healing powers but every second of it is excruciating for Whumpee. Burning, convulsing, screaming, the repair of flesh coming with fire or electricity or the burst pop scatter of darkness from every synapse rupturing with over-stimulation

A resurrection spell that brings Whumpee back from death but it’s like dying in reverse, shaking and gasping and horrible, so wretched and miserable all over again

Bloodletting to save Whumpee from poison or infection. Toeing the line between bloodloss and dying from whatever toxin needs to be drained

Trying spell after spell to reverse a curse or hex. Whumpee so beaten and abused by magic their body just shuts down or violently rejects it all

Whumpee with the power/affinity/etc to heal fast but practically goes comatose in the meantime. Caretaker fretting as Whumpee sleeps and can’t be roused for hours or days at a time until their wounds seem to heal on their own

Whumpee with the power/affinity/etc to heal fast but it’s like they’re dying. Maybe Whumpee fights off wounds the same way they would the flu, their body getting so feverish and sickly every time they get hurt. Maybe the energy of healing drains Whumpee entirely, leaving them all sweaty and limp and lifeless

Whumpees with the power to heal immediately on the surface but feel the pain indefinitely

Whumpee who can heal so fast they're used for organ harvesting, cut open and ripped apart again and again and again

Herbal concoctions used to make powerful healing potions that taste putrid, forced down Whumpee’s throat as they choke and struggle, too out of it to really fight back

Concoctions that save Whumpee from fatal stab wounds but feel so bad. Poultices and salves that burn or ache, tinctures that make them so restless and disoriented they dream about such horrible things while Caretaker wipes sweat off their brow

Caretaker having to soothe and look after Whumpee as they give them dose after dose of something that makes them feel terrible. Maybe it’s the only thing keeping them alive, but Caretaker feels guilty all the while

Drugs that promote healing but have a whole slew of side effects. Anxiety, heart palpitations, overstimulation, allergic reactions, horrible withdrawals after Whumpee heals

Whumpee’s wounds getting better in every physical way but they just feel so much worse

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee wasn't the affectionate type. Too embarrassed to show anything aside from a firm handshake and a head nod.

But when they were in the hospital barely alive, drugged and exhausted, they were clinging to caretakers arm with tears welling their eyes.

Caretaker held them and promised everything was going to be fine. It was clear whumpee wasn't in their right mind; It was strange having the once-stoic whumpee sobbing and curled in their arms.

It was only a small glimpse into what whumpee must have endured. 

[whump-galaxy]

A silent Whumpee that hasn’t talked in years, either through force or fear, speaks their first words. It’s quiet, hoarse, and their caretaker barely catches it.

“Thank you.”

[whump-in-the-closet]

When caretaker puts their hand on whumpee’s back for support or comfort and whumpee flinches away, stiffening like caretaker’s touch is a blow

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Recovery, PTSD/trauma.

"What on earth are you doing on the kitchen bench?" Caretaker asked curiously as they stuck their head into the kitchen to see what was making noise. There, Whumpee sat on the island with their legs crossed, grinning from ear to ear despite their clear nervousness.

"You told me I was allowed to break Whumper's rules. They never let me sit on counters, so that's what I'm doing."

Caretaker's confused frown curved up into a smile, pride no doubt evident. They took a few steps into the room and leaned against the nearest wall behind them. "Yeah? How's it feel up there?"

"Great!" they chirped. "I always used to sit like this, before. It's only a small aspect of the freedom I'm trying to reclaim, but one I'm excited to have back nonetheless."

[whumpy-galaxy]

Listen I am a SUCKER for conditioned whumpees. Specifically the unconditioning that comes after rescue.

Whumpee being afraid of Caretaker.

Whumpee having to wear a collar and a muzzle because that’s how Whumper kept them.

Whumpee panicking when they mess up or drop something, waiting for Caretaker to get upset and beat them.

Whumpee who won’t eat unless Caretaker orders them to.

Whumpee who doesn’t know what to do if they’re not being dragged around on a chain.

Whumpee who’s afraid of windows and the outdoors because Whumper convinced them everyone and everything outside wanted to hurt them, and they were safer with Whumper.

And everything that comes with that.

Caretaker not knowing what to do and feeling worthless. (Bonus points if they even consider mercy killing Whumpee because maybe they’ll always be afraid of everything and there’s nothing they can do).

Caretaker thinking maybe they DID do something to hurt Whumpee.

Caretaker being upset every time they look at Whumpee because they still insist on wearing the collar and muzzle Whumper bought for them, and Caretaker never wants to see them like that.

But also the good things that come with it!

Caretaker getting a new collar and muzzle made, with padding and lots of extra space for Whumpee to wear while they recover.

Whumpee finally being able to do something without asking Caretaker first, and Caretaker being so proud of them.

Caretaker’s praise and excitement at this makes Whumpee feel proud, too.

I just. I love it so much.

[a-class-attempter]

Caretaker sees Whumpee for the first time after their rescue. Whumpee is like a parent to Caretaker and to see Whumpee reduced to scarred flesh on a hospital bed breaks them.

Caretaker stays with Whumpee for days, barely getting any sleep. When Whumpee finally wakes up, they hold Caretaker close.

“Do you want to know what kept me alive?” Whumpee asks.

Caretaker, so overcome with a mix of terror and relief, can only nod.

Whumpee squeezes Caretaker’s hand. “You did, Caretaker. I lived so I could see your face again.”

[hywenhei]

RECOVERY: Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | “What have I done?”

Painful recovery. Whumpees bathing for the first time since captivity, and every water droplet falling onto their burn wounds, pulling on their stitches, soaking through bandages. Whumpees having to sit and wait while pieces of glass are slowly extracted from within their skin, holding back tears when the cleansing alcohol gets into their cuts. Whumpees having to drink healing potions that are meant to help in the long run, but hurt like hell going down Whumpee's throat.

"Whumpee?" "hnn- wh're are we?" "You're safe now, Whumpee. Just rest."

Caretaker rushes into Whumpee's room the second they wake up. Just seeing Whumpee brings a whirlwind of fear and concern and anger to the forefront of Caretaker's mind, god, they're so angry that Whumpee made them worry like this and Whumpee could've died and Caretaker would be left in ruins and- Whumpee's heart rate has doubled and they've moved to the edge of the bed. Away from Caretaker.

"Whumpee, I got some- why are you on the floor? Again?" "Would you believe it if I said I was doing pilates?"

second last day of whumptober!!! i can't believe that it's nearly over - i still remember writing the first prompt list 😔 anyways see you tomorrow for, last but not least, day 31!!

[serene-cinders]

A Whumpee who’s rescued from their situation by police with the assumption that they have friends and family who can support them, be it financially and emotionally, but they just don’t. Maybe Whumper had their identity changed years ago and Whumpee’s been through so much they can’t remember who they were. Better yet, they don’t even want to know who they once were. It’s irrelevant, now. Or maybe they don’t have the heart to seek out who they once knew, all those years ago. It’s so difficult, they’re a different person now. Everybody else must’ve moved on, right? Nobody cares about them anymore, right? Yeah. They’ve definitely stopped looking.

The state was able to put Whumper away for a few years. A charity is able scrape together a rented apartment for Whumpee. Set them up with a simple job. They clock in and clock out, go home and sleep in their empty apartment, curled in the sheets, with nobody to love and nobody to answer to.

Recovery whump without a caretaker has so much potential.

[martyr-inthedark]

There's just something so cathartic about a Whumpee who collapses into someone's arms, clinging to them as if this is their last chance at comfort.

I love a Whumpee who are just so worn down that all they can do is lay in someone's lap, sobbing at the warmth, even if it is just Whumper's lap.

A Whumpee whose chin fits perfectly in the crook of Caretaker's neck as they struggle to stay upright on shaking legs is exactly where it's at.

Perhaps Whumpee needs a weighted blanket or one of those heatable stuffed animals to sleep without nightmares.

[dinkflocculent]

Contents - recovery whump, implied whump, traumatized whumpee 

“Do you need anything?”

Whumpee stayed motionless in the corner of the room. Staring at one spot on the ground as if caretaker didn’t say anything. It hasn’t been long since the team rescued them, and they haven’t said a word or looked into any of the teammate’s eyes. Obeying whatever they tell them to do. Whumpee, once with a joyful and talkative personality, was now controlled and silent.

“I promise no one here is going to hurt you,” caretaker continued. That sense of dread building up inside them, seeing whumpee in such a state. “We… We want to help you, whumpee; please, say something…”

Seeing it as a command, whumpee opens their mouth to speak. Instead, a whimpering noise before rolling into a shaky ball and sobbing. All that built up emotion and trauma come spilling out in an ugly mess. It was too much. They wanted it to stop.

Whumpee felt the warm, secure embrace of caretaker's hug. Immediately burying their head inside their chest and sobbing even harder. Caretaker hushed in their ear, making the hug snugger. Seeing whumpee let out such a dire cry... Caretaker will rip whumper apart.

"Shh... It's alright; let it all out. You're never going back to them ever again," caretaker took a determined breath. "I promise you."

Whumpee sniffled, wiping snot away from their nose. Looking up at caretaker--not breaking eye contact this time. Caretaker made sure not to make any sudden movements or noises. It could frighten whumpee away from them again.

"Thank you," whumpee whispered, letting out a small, genuine smile.

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master. Good trope, right? But check this out;

Caretaker doesn't notice.

Because the morning after the day they were rescued, all Whumpee did was get Caretaker a cup of coffee. It was only after then that Whumpee realized new master new rules, and Caretaker might not like coffee at all. So after an hour or so of a panic attack, Whumpee decides to stay put and not do anything.

But Caretaker didn't say anything about that coffee, so Whumpee should probably keep doing that?

And so, every morning, Caretaker gets a cup of coffee, says thank you, that's a nice gesture, and gets done with the day, while Whumpee tries to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Not angering Caretaker is their top priority. Caretaker notices Whumpee is really, really quiet, but hey, they might just like it quiet. They do seem a little scared, but they've been putting off well, so Caretaker is positive that they'll get better with time.

Then Caretaker hears Whumper liked a cup of coffee every morning.

That's.. a strange coincidence.

I hope that's a coincidence.

And they finally try to talk to Whumpee about it, and Whumpee breaks into tears and Caretaker realizes what a mess this is,

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee woke with a sobbing shout. They quivered and panted, memories hit them as if they were still on the floor at whumper's feet. They felt arms wrap around them and beeping heard overhead; the sound worsened the pounding already in their head. 

"Hey hey hey! It's okay. You got a lot of injuries, you've got to take it slow." Caretaker touched whumpees forehead and put them back against the pillow. They tightly gripped whumpee's hand and the other rested on their chest.

"Wh-where am I? How did I get here?" Whumpee panicked. 

"You're in a hospital. I'm here with you, everything's okay. You're going to be fine..." Caretaker sadly smiled. Whumpee stared up at them with wide eyes, breathing like a wounded animal, gripping the back of caretakers hand with every ounce of strength, which was hardly holding them at all.

Despite caretaker's calm demeanor, whumpee could feel caretaker's hand shaking as much as their own.

"You-" Whumpee breathed, trying to raise their hand to them, but they couldn't.

"Yeah, it's me," Caretaker smiled, collecting their collapsed hand in their own. "I'm here, I'm taking good care of you. You can keep resting, okay?"

Whumpee shook their head no, their body still in fight or flight mode, wanting nothing more but to jump up and assess their surroundings. Caretaker could see their legs twitching and slowly inching off the bed as they sighed and scooted on the bed with them, pushing their legs back to the center.

"No hon, it's too early to be doing that." Caretaker soothed, laying whumpee's head on their shoulder.

It was almost as if as soon as whumeee's cheek settled, they relaxed and their heart rate slowly returned to normal beat by beat. Caretaker looked up at their monitor and sighed with relief watching the numbers stabilize.