Even with the help a shitton of weed, sleep did not come easy for Mitch. Had he not been entombed in pillows, he would have retrieved his phone to alleviate some boredom. Being alone with his thoughts heightened his anxiety, and this caused his mind to wander into sketchy territory.

Did anyone ignore Jodie’s warning and reach out to him?

Was Calvin awake? If he was, was he worried at all? Were there any messages waiting on the phone?

What if he didn’t tell Jodie about the prescription? He’d dealt with excruciating pain before, he could probably handle this. But what if he couldn’t? Could he tell the doctor that he lost the prescription and get another one? Could he-

Mitch ran his free hand down his face, murmuring “easy does it, easy does it, easy does it” over and over again until his thoughts weren’t so fixated anymore. He considered waking Jodie up to talk about it, but she’d already done so much.

Eventually, he fell into something of a slumber, but it certainly wasn’t restful in any way. When he woke up, his head pounded and eyes were burning.

“Twitter wishes you well,” came Jodie’s greeting from the other side of the bed.

“Tha’s’nice.” Mitch closed his eyes again.

“Lagoon Goon asked if it was OK to cut a promo on what happened last night. You cool with that?”

“Sounds good.”

“They apologized like a billion times now.” She waved her phone in front of his face with the text conversation pulled up, and Mitch swatted her arm away. “Asked if you needed anything.”

“Tell them I’m fine, and that it’s OK. Shit happens.” Mitch waved dismissively. “Anyway, can you hand me my stuff?”

“Yup.” Jodie rolled off of the bed and brought the bag over. “By the way, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Don’t care. Bagels?” The phone was pulled out, but the battery was dead. “Dammit. Hey Jodie, can you help me out?”

“On it.” Once the phone was plugged in, she head towards the door. “I think we got bagels. I’ll go check.”

Somehow, Mitch found the self-restraint to only check on his phone’s progress every 30 seconds or so. It took 5 minutes for him to give up on that, and move onto trying to get dressed. He undid the sling and managed to get a t-shirt halfway on before he got stuck.

“Bruh.” Jodie’s voice dripped with pity.

“Don’t laugh,” begged Mitch. The smell of toasted bagels wafted, making his stomach grumble. He was so tired, so sore and hungry and frustrated. “This sucks.”

“It does,” Jodie agreed. She held a bagel half up to his mouth so that he could take a bite, then once he did she set the rest of the food down on her nightstand. “Hey, hold still.”

Somehow, with their powers combined (and plenty of yelling and swearing), Mitch was back in his t-shirt and sling with minimal damage. The phone powered on in the nick of time; it was enough to distract him from yet again calling Jodie “a fucker”, and also from -yet again- being called “a motherfucker”.

There was an overwhelming amount of alerts from Twitter, all of which were well-wishes for his recovery, and he had trouble comprehending it. He was also shocked to see how many of the roster blatantly ignored Jodie’s request that he not be bothered, and tears began to well up. Hell, Lagoon Goon alone had sent at least 20 messages. “You weren’t kidding, huh? About Twitter?”

“Oh yeah. It’s wild, given that you’re an absolute bitch.” She playfully nudged him. “But you might wanna avoid going through the tag right now. There’s a few gifs of the accident making the rounds. It’s hard to watch.”

Mitch wanted to say that he could handle it, but he knew that she probably was right. Instead, he scrolled through the texts, seeking something in particular.

Something that, he quickly realized, wasn’t there.

His mouth went dry and stomach turned to knots as he scrolled through again, but there was nothing from Calvin other than whatever their exchange was before the show yesterday. Trying his best to feign normalcy, he took another bite of the bagel and said nothing to Jodie. It was almost impossible choke it down.