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The sheets and the pillow underneath him is layered in blood, some parts dried and other parts wet. Anya hasn’t changed them recently.
Drowsiness courses through his body, free from the pain but now even more terrified of his increased helplessness. With his uncovered eye fixed at the ceiling he reflects back on his life again, and everything that led up to his current disability. There is nothing else he can do at this moment. Since the crash, it’s felt like his body was no longer his own, just another consequence of his actions, of Jimmy’s actions, but specifically Curlys inaction.
As he starts to recall his first day as captain again, he hears the door to the medical wing open. Briefly, his heart stutters in his chest as he worried who was there. Was it Anya, there to give him another dose of painkillers? Or was it Jimmy, there to look anywhere but his eye as he seethed in his hatred for Curly? Was it Daisuke, Swansea? Or was it-
“Curly?”
Mori.
Curly's head moves sluggishly over to where Mori stands at the opened door, his posture tense and shoulders squared.
Mori visited him a lot, but he didn’t usually say much, always lost in thought or reading whatever book he got his hands on, sometimes he would be doodling on whatever sticky note he could find.
Mori sat down on the chair he would always pull up, and looked at Curly in his eye, with tears pooling in his own. Throat bobbing and mouth opening slightly, he hesitated to speak, as he always did, like he was afraid that any loud noise would hurt Curly more.
“Hey Curly, how do you feel?”
Curly doesn’t say anything.
“…Stupid question, yeah, I know, I’m sorry.” He glanced away for a second, closing his eyes and moving his arms up to hold onto the sheets with both hands.
For a moment, neither speak and the atmosphere gets thicker. Until:
“Jesus, you’re going to think me stupid for saying this…”
Curly wished he could blink in confusion.
“Curly- Curly, I don’t think you were the one who crashed the ship,” he said with a wobble. His eyes snapped open to look at Curlys again when he made a noise from deep within his chest.
“Something is wrong with Jimmy, super wrong,” he gulped, shifting in his seat, “He instantly claimed that you crashed us on purpose, when he’s supposed to be your best friend. Friends are supposed to instinctively come up with any sort of reason to counter whatever bad thing was said about you, right?
A-And I’ve always known he was jealous of you and your position- but you always wrote it off- I wouldn’t put it past him to do something rash to sabotage you, so please,” He gulps again and begs, “Please Curly… I know you can’t speak much, if at all, but if there’s any way you can say I’m right or wrong… Jesus Christ just do it and tell me, did you crash the ship?”
Curlys throat hurts as he tries to speak. For a minute the only thing Mori could hear beyond the rushing in his ears was Curlys unintelligible noises. He spends that minute contemplating standing up and running out the room as quick as he could.
“…N…….no…..”
Tears are blinked rapidly out of Mori’s eyes as he gives a watery open mouthed smile, and he’s nodding even before he starts to speak again.
“Okay, okay that’s great! Perfect really, I need to tell the crew, it’s-“ he’s cut off by another noise, made in protest, one that was significantly more violent than the ones before. Curly's body is slightly arched from where he lays on the table.
“What? Curly, are you trying to tell me I shouldn’t tell them!?” Mori hisses through clenched teeth.
Curly lets his body drop. “Yes! Yes! Don’t say anything, please!” Mori only stares incredulously.
“You can’t be serious. You’re fucking with me, you’ve gotta be fucking with me,” he glared, “This isn’t funny. Literally why the hell should I not tell them?”
Curly thrashes more in protest and Mori panics, flinching backwards as he tries to figure out what to do with his arms that didn’t involve instinctively grabbing ahold of Curly to hold him down.
“What, Curly, what!? Are you afraid of Jimmy or something? Is that it!? Curly!”
Curly thrashes again in agreement and Mori somehow goes stiffer, his eyebrows furrow and his eyes squint.
“You are?” He asks.
Curly stops thrashing. His body felt exhausted. With no skin to sweat through his muscles bleed just the tiniest bit and soak into the already bloodied bandages.
Mori's shoulders go lax and he puts his arms back on the table, moving so he can dig his head into them comfortably. His body shakes in quiet sobs and anger, and Curly wishes he had his hands to run his fingers through Mori’s auburn brown hair. Like how he used to.
Mori sniffs and lifts his head up to look Curly in the eye, like he’s trying to prove that he wasn’t afraid of Curlys bloodshot sclera, the way the others seemed to be.
“If Jimmy did this to you on purpose, I can only imagine what he would do to you and the crew if he found out I told them what he’s done.” He takes a deep breath before releasing it again, and he feels like he just signed a silent contract that will haunt him until he dies.
He drops his head back into his arms and groans.
“Oh Curly,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry for what he’s done, I’m so sorry I can’t end your pain.”
He can’t cry, but if he could, Curly’s not sure he would ever stop.
Sitting up, Mori reaches out to grab onto his bandaged arm, but hesitates and lets it go back to resting on the table.
“I wish I could touch you without hurting you,” he whispers, “I would give up anything to be able to touch you again.”
Curly can only breathe his silent agreement.
————
Weeks, months, later, as Curly is forced to watch as Anya kills herself, and as Jimmy shoots Mori in the head until his body is laid sat up and limp next to the opened door, he can only think about what could’ve happened if he didn’t beg for Mori to keep quiet.
Silence always killed no matter what the intentions were, he wondered why he didn’t truly learn that until now.