Recovery visits (WeskerWong)

Recovery visits

Notes:

Greetings mortals♡(◍•ᴗ•◍)
Most of this was written in school and I'll finish this in less than a week so that, paired with my laziness and the fact I'm not a good author, caused this to be not so long.
I hope you guys, my fellow WeskerWong shippers, enjoy this anyways.
(Albert has been severly injured, burned etc in the volcano and Ada basically just makes sure he's okay, while !!!both already have feelings for each other!!!.)

(my spotify playlist for this :) :https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5PlGAbAm0rW3RVz5iBTnJ5?si=990cf2970db04472&pt=bd1f71dcf6abb77f185a771f9c5bf198 )

It had been Albert Weskers decision to reduce the noise. Not even the beeping that was usually associated with a heart monitor was allowed to keep echoing in the sterile, professional, lonely room. Curtains had been shut in front of the only, but big window frames. Sunlight blocked out, sounds reduced to the faint dripping of liquid in the IV bag and breathing that sounded like it hurt. White walls, white floor, white door, white everything. And there, on that bed, lay the man that had called himself a god. Bandages, scars and necessary medical equipment adorning his body like death had fought for his soul, ultimately not blessing him, but cursing him with the suffering living would have to offer. Letting him live with the utter humiliation of a god so useless, he wasn't even able to walk away when he wanted to. Bed-bound, in pain at all times and alive only thanks to something that must have been a miracle. His blonde hair looked nowhere near the usual tidy slicked back style he used to go for. In some spots, it was too short. It had burned down to a shorter length than he'd ever cut it himself. Other spots a little too long where it hadn't been cut in the two months he had been staring at the same plain ceiling. The virus had saved his life somehow. Saving his lower body even while being tremendously weakened and scorched by the lava to the point of barely any strong Uroboros remains surviving underneath his skin. The ones that did remain, that got through this, were now more a semi-symbiotic parasite rather than a strengthening virus. Uroboros only tried to keep him alive, to keep itself alive. Sometimes it would slither through his body close enough to the surface, that the doctors supervising his recovery, could see the black virus snake just beneath his scarred, burned skin. A room imitating a hospital was stationed in an abandoned building in the part of the city no one set foot in willingly. An old warehouse of Umbrella. How else could it be?

Albert's legs had been marked by the immense heat beyond repair. He was able to walk. In pain. But the scars were ugly in their brutality. The burn marks webbed over his abdomen, noticeably shifting into something just faintly subtler the further up his body you looked. By his chest and further, it was easier to ignore the burnt patches of skin. Some of which he didn't even feel sensation for anymore. The amount of the really bad places had considerably decreased in the two months given time for his enhanced body to begin recovery. But so had the amount of Uroboros viruses. His right hand had gotten away pretty well with Uroboros having protected it even before he had slipped into the lava. His left hand had collateral enough damage for the doctors to have replaced two fingers with prosthetics. Unsettlingly enough, skin had already begun to form around the material, only the mechanic knuckles still visible. Beneath those two, pinky and ring finger, half his palm had lost its sensation. Even the glow of his red eyes had dimmed. This was weakness he couldn't accept. He couldn't walk away if he wanted to. He had tried. And collapsed at the attempt. Afterwards snarling at the doctors who came rushing to help. Help he immediately refused.
This was unacceptable. And still Albert laid there. Brooding, angry, offended and utterly humiliated. Vulnerable.
He stared down at the food on the plate that had been resting on his lap for the past thirty minutes. A grimace crossed his expression only for a moment.
Then Albert's head shot up, feeling a cold breeze caress his bare skin. He hadn't opened the window in hours. The curtain swayed softly in the wind. He loathed how he hadn't noticed it before the window even opened. Because he would have noticed it that early. Before. Before this. Straight posture was immediate as his spine stiffened. He sat up in less than a second, red, slitted eyes scanning the room like it owed him an explanation. Quickly his gaze found the intruder. A woman leaning against the wall. Arms casually folded in front of her chest. No room was left for doubt. A red blouse tucked into black pants, high boots and short black hair. A faint smirk on red, glossy lips. Flawless as always. Ada Wong.
Albert's face quickly twisted into a scowl even with his heart rate spiking up on the monitor for the blink of an eye. Anger still simmering beneath composure and something he didn't dare name. He couldn't afford another weakness right now.