[Earthbound; Book 1] Chapter 2 — A Green Flicker

[The content warnings sound heavier than they actually are. CWs: Mentions of harassment, political injustice, and marital rape.]

“How much longer until he regains consciousness? He should have woken up by now,” barked a sharp, commanding voice—one that only made the pounding in my skull worse.

“It could happen any day now,” a second voice replied, calm but tired. “Please, Mr. Grafdorf, your son arrived in critical condition.”

“What nonsense. He looked perfectly fine to me. He’s a man—this sort of thing shouldn’t trouble him.”

A weary sigh followed. “With all due respect, Mr. Grafdorf, while the injuries sustained during the incident weren’t immediately life-threatening, your son’s overall health is... concerning. The fact that he wasn’t brought in by ambulance sooner is nothing short of miraculous. We—”

“I’ve heard enough. What kind of quack are you? I want my son discharged and brought home. One of my doctors will handle his care from now on.”

A woman’s voice snapped, sharp with fury. “You don’t have the fucking right! I do. Legally. So you don’t get a say in this.”

“Oh, of course,” Grafdorf sneered. “Should’ve known the dyke would try something. Do your parents even realize what kind of lifestyle you’re parading around? As his father I will have his rights—one way or another. Now start preparing him for transfer.”

“We can’t just do that without—”

I stirred, groggy. My eyelids fluttered open to a world of blur and motion. People rushed toward me.

“Marco, can you hear me? Are you okay?” a familiar voice asked, frantic but relieved.

After a few moments, my vision focused, and Lissie’s face swam into view.

“Wh-What happened?” I rasped. My throat felt like it had been scraped raw.

“Y-You don’t remember?” Lissie’s voice trembled.

I gave a faint shake of my head.

She took my hand—hers unsteady. “You… you went back to the oak. I saw you walking towards it and ran after you. I got to you just in time—right before it came down. If I’d been a second later…” Her voice cracked. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Women,” the unwelcome voice beside me scoffed. “This is why no one takes the police seriously anymore.”

I had barely opened my eyes and already had to deal with him.

“Father,” I greeted flatly.

“Son,” he replied with equal detachment. “You missed the meeting with your fiancee. Now that you’re awake, I’ll arrange another. Make sure you’re discharged quickly. Work is piling up.”

That was it. No ‘I’m glad you’re alive’. No ‘Thank God you’re safe’. Just scheduling my life around as if I were a puppet he controls. Before I could say another word, he turned and left without another word.

“He’s such an asshole,” Lissie muttered, wiping her eyes.

“He… he only wants the best for me,” I offered weakly, knowing I didn’t believe it.

Lissie gave me a look. “If that were true, he wouldn’t have shoved you into this kind of life in the first place. He’s killing you, Marco—and you know it.”

A throat cleared in the background. I looked toward the source—someone I hadn’t even noticed until now.

“Mr. Maxwell,” the doctor said, stepping forward, voice calm and professional. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. We were growing concerned. Miss Weißdorn has been here nearly every day these past two weeks to watch over you.”

“…Two weeks?” I echoed, stunned.

“Yes. You’ve been in a coma since the incident. While your immediate injuries weren’t too severe, your overall condition is troubling. Even setting aside the circumstances of your arrival, your body is in a deeply weakened state. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve managed this long without collapsing sooner.”

He took a breath, then continued, “First things first: no more smoking. We were alarmed by the state of your throat—scarring, inflammation. It’s serious. We’ll be starting you on a course of medication to address that and a few other things, but medication alone won’t be enough. You’ll need to change your lifestyle entirely—fresh air, regular movement, proper sunlight. Your vitamin D levels were so low we were concerned your bones might fracture under stress.”

He then turned to Lissie. “Miss Weißdorn, as his next-of-kin, we’d like to ask if you’d be willing to supervise his recovery post-discharge. I understand this is a significant responsibility, and I—”

“I’m not just letting him go home alone so he can throw his life away again,” Lissie interrupted. “I’ve got a few weeks of sick leave left, right?”

The doctor gave her a measured look. “Physically, your injuries are healing well. Psychologically... trauma like that can take time. Given the circumstances, I’ll authorize another month of medical leave for you, and two months for Mr. Maxwell.”

I froze. “I-I can’t take two months off work! My father—he’ll—”

“For fuck’s sake, Marco,” Lissie snapped. “Can you stop thinking about what your father will say for once in your life? That mindset is why you ended up here. You’re so desperate for his approval, it’s like you’ve forgotten how to live for yourself. He doesn’t care about you. He treats you like a pawn.”

She took a breath, then added more quietly, “You’re coming to live with me. Once you’re discharged, we’ll grab your essentials and go. No arguments.”

I didn’t even try. I nodded. I couldn’t argue, even if I wanted to. I knew she was right. And underneath the guilt and helplessness, one thought stayed with me:

What would I do without her?

“Yes, about that,” the doctor interjected gently. “We’ll just need to run a few final checks and complete some paperwork. You should be ready to leave within the hour.”

With that, he gave a polite nod and stepped out of the room.

Lissie, still holding my hand, sat carefully at the corner of the bed. Her face was serious—more serious than I had seen it in a long time.

“Marco, I really thought I’d lost you,” she said quietly. “You have no idea how scared I was. When I woke up in the hospital, the first thing I did was try to get out of bed and check on you. If the nurses hadn’t stopped me and explained that you were in bad condition but stable, I would’ve shoved past every one of them until I could see you.”

Her voice tightened. “They only told me later that you were in a coma. Said you’d probably wake up soon, but those words didn’t help much. I was terrified. And all this… all of it… because of a goddamn protest over a tree that never should have been touched in the first place.”

She let out a bitter breath, then added, “I’ve decided to quit the force. Once you’re better, I’m handing in my papers.”

I stared at her, stunned. I’d never seen her like this before. Not in posture, not in tone. She looked like someone who’d been pushed far past their limit—and was still standing. She truly cared. More than I probably deserved.

It was my fault. She was leaving the police because of—

“Don’t give me that look, Marco,” she said sharply, reading my thoughts with painful ease. “I know exactly where your head’s going. Stop spiraling. You don’t belong in that kind of guilt. You’re not a bad person. The only one you ever treat badly is yourself. Me leaving the force has nothing to do with you.”

She paused, her voice softening. “This whole thing just reminded me of something I already knew: that if I want to change things for real, I need to leave this rotten institution behind.”

Her grip on my hand tightened slightly.

“You have no idea what I’ve seen,” she said, voice lowering. “The power abuse. The silence. The way things are swept under the rug. And me? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been harassed—because I’m a woman, because I’m a lesbian, or just because they could.”

I stared at her, words caught in my throat. “I-I didn’t know it was that bad. I mean… you always dreamed of being a cop. Ever since we were kids.”

Lissie turned her gaze to the window, her eyes focusing on something far beyond the glass. After a long moment, she looked back at me.

“Yeah. I did. I thought protecting people, standing for justice—that would be enough. But reality is a different beast. Sensitive information gets leaked to extremists. Investigations are sabotaged. Racism, corruption, coverups… It’s not a system built to help people. It’s a shield for those in power.”

She clenched her jaw. “You know what my boss said when he came to check on me? He wanted me to press charges. Against the protesters. For endangering me—and you.”

I blinked. “But that—”

“—doesn’t make sense?” she finished for me. “I know. And then he said something I’ll never forget: ‘We’re not here for the people. We’re here for the state.’ That was it. That was my breaking point.”

She stood for a moment, then sat back down and shook her head. “So yeah. I’m done. I’ll draw this out slowly, take what I can, and do everything in my power to make their job harder until I’m gone.”

Then her expression softened again. “God, here I am ranting about my problems and you’re the one who needs care and rest.”

I shook my head. “I understand. More than you think. Back in second year, we were shown this old recording of a parliamentary debate. A female politician once stood up and argued that marital rape should be punishable. The men in the room laughed. Mocked her. Treated her like a joke. She received death threats at her own home—just for trying to protect victims. The whole thing made me sick."

She gave me a tired smile. “And yet things haven’t changed much. But that’s why we have to keep fighting. One step at a time. We don’t give them the satisfaction of winning. But we also need to rest and recover. So—for the next two months, you’re staying with me. No arguments. Understood?”

“…Fine,” I said, surrendering to her determination.

“Good~” she replied, playfully ruffling my hair. “You deserve a break.”

I grumbled, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

She giggled. “And yet, you’re not pushing me away.”

I had no comeback. I didn’t want to admit that it felt nice. That it comforted me. But there was something else—something heavier.

It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy her affection. It was that I was terrified it would get… misinterpreted. I was still a man, and she wasn’t attracted to men. I didn’t want her to think I was trying something—because I wasn’t. But this thought, this divide between us, hurt in a way I couldn’t explain.

And then, as if my mind wasn’t overloaded enough, another problem surfaced.

“…Oh.” I blinked slowly. “I still have that fiancée. I’d really rather not think about what happens if I miss the next meeting. I just… feel sorry for her. She’s as much a prisoner in this as I am. Maybe there’s a way we can help her?”

Lissie let go of my hand. Her expression shifted—sadness flickered behind her eyes, but she smiled anyway.

“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. “What your father and her parents are doing is disgusting. But yeah… until we come up with a plan that doesn’t land her in another arranged marriage, you’ll have to play along. Keep the facade going, at least for now.”

I let out a quiet breath. “Thanks, Lissie. You’re the best.”

“Oh, I know.” She grinned, then looked past me. “I think I see the nurse coming with your discharge papers. I’ll wait outside and get some air so you can change.”

“Alright. See you outside,” I said.

She gave me one last smile before slipping out of the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I signed the discharge papers, packed my things, and stepped into the bathroom to change. But when I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I stopped cold.

Bruises still covered my skin—fading, but ugly. Deep cuts stretched across my side and arms, only just starting to heal. Every movement hurt. Every breath reminded me how fragile I had become.

Then I remembered the voices.

They had felt so real… like something had truly called out to me. But given the state my body was in, it was probably just my brain, desperate to make sense of the chaos.

Probably.

“What is this?” I muttered, leaning in closer to the mirror. “I swear it was—no. There it is again.”

I squinted at my reflection, focusing on my eyes—deep blue, as always.

But something shimmered beneath the surface. A faint emerald glint flickered deep within my irises, blinking in and out of existence like a dying firefly. It wasn’t there—then it was—then gone again.

I rubbed my eyes.

Nothing. Gone.

I shook my head. “Two weeks in a coma. I’m probably still not fully awake.”

Once I finished dressing, I left the bathroom—slowly, carefully—and made my way toward the door. To my surprise, Lissie was waiting just outside with a wheelchair.

“Seriously?” I asked. “Weren’t you going to wait outside?”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “I was. But then I remembered you just woke up from a coma and looked like a baby deer learning to walk. Besides, the doctor forgot to mention you’re supposed to take it slow for a few days. Sooo, wheelchair it is.”

She gave the chair a dramatic pat. “Apparently the hospital’s understaffed. Who would’ve guessed?”

I raised my hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. I surrender.”

She grinned. “Let’s get out of here, princess. Your royal carriage awaits.”

I responded in the same theatrical tone. “With pleasure, my noble prince. Now, let’s flee before the dragon returns to claim me!”

Lissie laughed. “What, are you a damsel in distress now?”

I looked up at her. “I mean, you did save me from a falling tree. Not quite a dragon, but I think it still counts.”

“I still can’t believe I did that,” she murmured. “That whole thing was just… a freak accident.”

I lowered myself into the wheelchair, wincing. “Or maybe just really, really bad luck.”

“Well, you’ve had your share. I think that’s enough for now. I’ll make sure of it,” she said with a soft smile.

“Now I really feel like a princess,” I chuckled—though the word sat strangely with me, far heavier than it should have.

“Oh! Want to grab some food from that new place near my apartment? It’s healthy and actually pretty good.”

I glanced up at her. “You mean that fancy, overpriced vegan place?”

She shrugged. “Guilty. Yeah, it’s a bit pricey, but trust me—you’ll love it.”

“Alright, alright. But I’m paying. This princess takes equality seriously.”

“Oho? This prince accepts your noble invitation,” she laughed.

A few bad inside jokes later, we reached the main exit. As the automatic doors slid open, a wave of hot summer air hit us like a blanket.

We crossed the threshold—

And something shifted. It was sudden. Strange. Euphoric.

I had no idea what I was feeling, but the sunlight felt incredible—like my skin had been starved for it. It wasn’t just warm; it was good. Right. Almost like I was drinking it in. It was tasty~.

Wait. Tasty?

“Marco? You alright?” Lissie’s voice came from behind, a note of concern creeping in.

“Um… I think so? I just—wow. The sun. It feels amazing. Like, really amazing. My skin feels so—” I trailed off. I couldn’t even explain it. It was like my whole body was lighting up, reconnecting with something I didn’t know I was missing. New sensations bloomed inside me, like branches growing from nowhere.

Lissie laughed. “Jeez, you really need to get outside more. You’re practically glowing.”

She had no idea how close to the truth she was.

As she pushed me toward her car, I closed my eyes and simply let the sunlight wash over me. Maybe it really was just the vitamin D, like the doctor said. Maybe my body was starved for it. Whatever the reason, I hadn’t felt this alive in… I couldn’t remember how long.

Once we reached the car, she helped me into the passenger seat and folded up the wheelchair, storing it in the back. Almost immediately, I felt something missing. The air inside was cooler—not just in temperature, but in sensation. Like the light had been dimmed in a way that wasn’t entirely physical.

Without thinking, I rolled down the window and let my arm rest on the edge.

Mmm… Yes. The sunlight on my skin. That’s what I needed.

Lissie slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Alright. Off we go.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The drive from the hospital to my apartment was surprisingly short. Funny—I’d never noticed how close I actually lived to a hospital.

Because my building was old and sorely lacking in actual improvements, there was no proper wheelchair access—another case of gentrification done wrong. They’d "renovated" everything, sure, but only on paper. Raised the rent, slapped on some fresh paint, and called it progress. No elevators, no ramps. Just higher prices and the same crumbling infrastructure underneath. So yeah, Lissie helped me up the stairs, one slow step at a time, supporting most of my weight.

My apartment was on the fourth floor, the door to the right. I unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing the dull, plantless space I called home.

“Home sweet home,” I muttered, though the words felt hollow. It didn’t feel like home. Not really.

“Go sit in the kitchen,” Lissie said gently. “I’ll grab the essentials. If you need anything or I forget something, just yell, okay?”

I nodded. “Can you bring my laptop? And a few books next to my nightstand?”

“I’ll grab the books. But I’m leaving the laptop. I know you—you’d dive straight into work, and you’re supposed to rest.”

I managed a small smile. “Fair enough. Thanks.”

I shuffled into the kitchen and sat down slowly. Compared to the rest of the apartment, the kitchen was decent—modern, well-lit, the color scheme tasteful. But it lacked life. Literally. The only green thing in sight was a dying monstera, slouched pitifully on the table.

I’d given up on that plant a while ago. Honestly, I was surprised Lissie hadn’t thrown it out when she came by during my hospital stay.

I folded my arms on the table and rested my head, staring at the poor thing. It looked lonely. Forgotten. As if it missed the soil it had been torn from.

Is that why you’re dying? I wondered. Wrong roots in the wrong place—like me?

Without realizing it, my index finger drifted towards one of its drooping leaves. My head felt oddly light, a whisper curling through the back of my mind—soft, wordless.

I touched the leaf and—

________________________________________


A surprised yelp came from the kitchen.

Shit.

I didn’t waste a second. My heart shot into my throat as I bolted down the hallway, feet pounding against the floor. Please don’t let him have collapsed. Please don’t let it be something serious again—

I skidded to a stop at the doorway—and froze. What I saw made my brain short-circuit.

Marco was still sitting there at the kitchen table, his body upright but completely still. His face was pale, stunned, like he’d just seen a ghost. But it wasn’t his expression that stopped me in my tracks.

It was his hand.

Thin, delicate roots had snaked out of the half-dead monstera plant, wrapping around his fingers like they belonged there. The plant was moving—not just trembling like a leaf in a breeze, but swaying gently, curling inward, stretching towards him. Almost like it recognized him. Like it was… glad he was there.

The air in the kitchen felt weird. Thicker. Heavier. Filled with something… magical? It was as if something in the room had shifted.

My friend finally looked up at me—and that was when I saw it.

“Marco…” I stepped into the kitchen slowly, careful not to startle him. My voice came out softer than I intended. “Your eyes…”

There was a glow, faint but unmistakable. Deep, shimmering green. Not a reflection. Not a trick of the light. It was coming from within.

“…They’re glowing. Emerald.”

He blinked like he hadn’t heard me. “H-huh?”

Goddess, I had no idea what to even say. My thoughts were already a mess—coma, falling tree, near-death… and now this? How the hell was I supposed to process any of it?

Just what the hell was happening to my best friend!?