A/N: It is any character you want it to be, in any setting... I have my own views of who it is and everything, but I shan't taint your version!

If He Stayed Still
by Raina

It was the pits.

He couldn't move. The pain was too much if he did. There would be shooting pains and a crushing feeling that would overwhelm. No, it would be better to stay still. If he stayed still, there'd be no crushing, shooting pain, and the hurt would lessen.

So he sat with eyes downcast and half-lidded, unmoving. The canopy overhead cast a shadow around him, but if he looked up around him where the light flooded the room he'd squint and the tightened muscles would increase the pain. He tried to keep his eyes down and relax the muscles of his face to hopefully lessen some of the horrid hurting.

The pain told him it had turned to mush of a large bruise, inside and out, with a knife stabbing repeatively. Whether true or not, it certainly feels that way, he decided.

Maybe if he relaxed enough and didn't move it wouldn't hurt so much. Every time he moved, even a little, the slight feeling of faint hunger crushed against his consciousness, amplifying his pain. He would not be consuming anything for at least another twenty minutes, though. So he stayed where he was, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, eyes half-lidded, unmoving, and just trying to survive.

He knew he had a bored and unfriendly look on his face, what with nearly every muscle in his face relaxed and his eyes nearly closed. It was a good thing no one else was with him, because it meant he didn't have to have a nice expression on his face - he felt horrible and by Eru he would look horrible, if it meant relieving, if only a little, the pain.

The curtains on the window directly across the room from him rustled, the opened window letting in a draft. The wind brushed against him and he barely refrained from wincing - it would cause shooting pains, after all - at the air blowing into his eyes. He refused to twitch, though his eyes stung with tears at the rush of air brushing them. If he looked up and over, he could aviod the draft, but he couldn't look up for the light of the room would cause him to squint and tense muscles would only amplify the pain. Subsquently, he was unable to move, not even such a small movement such as his eyes twitching. It left him with one choice: he shut his eyes and waited out the wind.

He hoped no one would enter and think he was sleeping - that could mean possible catastrophe.

He couldn't move.

Oh yes, having a migraine was the pits.

The End