breath darling, you survived before, you'll do it again
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NICKNAMESXX Cass, Ash
AGEXX 23 / Died 1 week ago
SEXUALITYXXHomosexual
NATIONALITYXX American, Irish heritage
ROLEX Ghost
HEXXX #012244
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Cassidy reemerged a week after dying. For a ghost, he was fairly lucid about his entire death. Maybe because he was brought back so soon after leaving, maybe because he'd been overly prepared, maybe because he'd spent weeks leading up to it explaining to others that it was going to be okay, but as a ghost Cass remembers his shaky breath well.
He remembers his human body well and therefore has had a hard time adjusting to his new ghost form. He spends more time intangible than not, though he's yet to learn that picking up objects isn't the best idea. In life, Cass always liked to make tea, so in death he's just shattering mugs all over the house and falling through walls. Other than that, if he tries hard enough he can retain invisibility for a short amount of time. He doesn't exactly like that power and hasn't tried hard to master it, preferring to be seen over disappearing again.
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H E I G H TXANDXB U I L D: 5"7', weak but standard build
Curly mop of golden hair, round rosy cheeks constantly pinched into a smile, giant gold glasses that are always smudged, and eyes the color of milk chocolate. Cassidy has always been referred to as joy personified; even as sickly child in and out of the hospital. Of course that doesnt mean he isn't sickly- where you would expect a tan, there's dry, pale skin. Where you would expect muscle or fat, its all boney joints. But Cass has never let this control his life and has never given off the presence of one that wants your pitty.
He likes to wear baggy sweatshirts, loose jeans, sweatpants, and loose shirts in order to better fit his feeding tube attached to his stomach. Cass's illness requires he do as much as he can for his own comfort, so he rarely steps outside in something that he doesnt love. Most of his sweatshirts are worn thin, holey from overuse and over love. He usually seen with a breath tube, the plastic nose peice so apart of his life that he rarely notices it anymore. Cass adores yellow, says the color makes everything happier, and does all he can to make sure the color is on him at all times.
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P E R S O N A L I T Y:
Cass sometimes wonders how much of himself comes from his illness and how much is just him. He's always been empathetic and caring, but is that because he spent most of his years growing up caring for the people that weren't dying around him? He's always been soft, gentle in the way an old dog was, and so so careful- but was that because he'd learned that being soft and quiet meant that he might not spend the night coughing his lungs out? He loves eating, loves tea, loves swimming and yoga- but all of these things are necessary when living with the big CT, so is it really him or just his shitty lungs?
Years of being around death and sadness built up a resilience to the emotion. He avoids it like the plague, focusing on the brighter things in life while he's still got time. Doctors have called it a copeing mechanism, but frankly he hates being put into the 'strong-patient' box and gets frustrated with his personality is diagnosed as a symptom of his illness. Cass is warm, warm like mid-afternoon light coming in through the kitchen window and he smiles just as bright. Nothing about cystic fibrosis has ever made his smile bigger. He's soft and malleable like a puppy and just as goofy. Cass is just smiles and laughter and pure happiness to be around, a kind of pureness that's rare to find. He likes people, loves to be near others hates the stillness of an empty room. That doesn't mean he is great at being social- he's shy in a way only someone that has spent most of their lives with just their family is. But once he feels an ounce of comfort from another human, hes all dumb charades and wild gestures.
Cass's life has mostly been within sterile environments and hospitals. He tried school out for a bit, but with his rapidly worsening condition, it just hadn't been in the cards for him. He made friends at the hospital, collecting people within his bubble like he collects knick-knacks. Doctors, med students, nurses, other patients- none of them stood a chance against Cass's soft comfort and ability to listen.
That's not to say he was immune to it all. His own condition wasn't what bothered him- it was the sadness that radiated off others and the overall depression that came from making all your friends in the hospital. He likes to pretend everything is sunshine and rainbows on the surface, but being as young as he is and being surrounded by friends with expiring timelines is hard.
Q U I R K SXA N DXO D D I T I E S:
Life with cystic fibrosis means schedules, meal plans, and therapy workouts. Cass is a stickler for routine, following along with his meticulously laid out schedule with a cheery sort of demeanor that no one bats an eye at. He is neat, keeps his room at home and the room in the hospital in order, but he also has a tendency to collect trinkets as gifts and keepsakes. Everything has its place though- even the plethora of half-drunk tea mugs he seems to accumulate out of thin air. In conversation, Cassidy likes to slip in little oneliner or bad puns he's read online, always followed up with a sly smile like he's pulled a fast one. He likes to pretend he's good at shifting the subject when things get tense and uncomfortable, though anyone that knows him can instantly read his shifty eyes and wringing hands as the nerves he keeps carefully bundled up.
F E A R S:
Cass just really doesn't want to leave the people he loves in pain. Anything he can do to bring a smile to someones face he does. As pain riddled as his life has been, it's the pain of others that he fears the most.
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Sometimes Cassidy feels like he's been dead his entire life.
Cystic fibrosis was a death sentence, a timer given to him when he was too young to know what death was. His parents were strong and supportive, but Cass knew they were in pain. He caught them crying sometimes, consoling each other when they thought he wasn't watching. Death is harder on those that keep on living after you've disappeared. And since day one, he knew he would never experience that pain. So he tried his best to make it easier on all of them- his parents and his older brother.
Graham was the strong one of the family, the eldest Aisling with an amazing ability to pull them away from the present. He could make even the gloomiest of hospital rooms seem like home, or derail an uncomfortable conversation with a well-timed joke. Cass learned to mimic that ability early on, only wanting to make this easier on all of them.
He grew up with a strict diet, sleep, exercise, and doctor routine. There was little time for socialization between him being sick and feeling well enough that he wasn't, but he had his family. He had a few school friends, but he seldom had concrete plans with them outside of the classroom. High school was hard- suddenly there was so much more. Sports and clubs and jocks and dances. After school activities, field trips, things he suddenly realized he wanted. His parents never held him back but he could always feel that worry, that fear that something would happen when he is just out of their reach. So while he stepped out a little- attended dances, joined a yoga club, became an assistant at the library- Cass was still relatively invisible.
Cystic Fibrosis was constantly being studied and his family stayed up to date on all the newest treatments. But they were all aware that Cassidy's condition had always been bad- since diagnosis, it had been clear that he would be lucky to reach 30. In reality, it got worse much sooner. A bad case of the flu can hospitalize a normal person, but a CT patient? The end of freshman year saw a rampid flu season and saw him living in the hospital for six months, his first true long stint in the hospital. His lungs never really recovered after that, beginning his endless cycle of long hospital visits until he ended up with a permanent room.
Cass's optimistic nature lets him see the bright side in most situations, so he'd tell you that without that flu season he would have never met Xan. Xan, who he likes to call his Hospital Guru, the Queen of the Long-Term Care Ward. She set the bar for hospital antics and pranks and he was beyond ecstatic when she welcomed him into her hospital room with contraband candy and R-rate movies. She made his first long stay so much easier and made visiting the hospital after something he kind of looked forward to. A little gift of the ward, one of the reasons that he found it within himself to keep his sunshine persona even after his third long stay. Her death was the hardest for him to handle- it hadn't been sudden, but it had been a dark cloud over those last few months. She'd been good about keeping a grin on her face when he'd seen her, but Cassidy knew.
He took over for her as most common long-term patient after that. He accepted his duty as her successor and maintained late-night movie nights for the kids and snacks that probably made all their health deteriorate quicker. But Cass wanted to enjoy what life he had left, even if that meant his mom finding empty packets of gummy worms in the trash and cake in his minifridge. Of course he wanted to be healthy, but not at the risk of losing the joy in life.
Atlas's arrival at the hospital was like a shot of adrenaline. Unlike all great love stories, this one started too slowly and far too late. A med student with the stormiest expression and the bedside manner to match, Cass had been captivated with him because he was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He'd known for a while his preferences and had done a lot to avoid those kinds of thoughts, mostly because he knew it just wasn't in the cards for him. But Dr. Atlas Blake was that gritty sort of dick that never smiled and took everything way too seriously and Cassidy immediately made it his personal goal to dig a smile out of him. And of course, like most people in Cass's life, that infectious warmth eventually broke through. Atlas thawed, he started staying after shifts to watch stupid B-rated horror movies, he took his lunch breaks in Cassidy's room, he had to avoid eye contact on official rotations cause Cass just liked to stare until a smile cracked. Atlas was a terror to work with, but most of the hospital knew that Cass had worked his magic on him and somehow tamed that constant glare.
But they never went further than small smiles and lingering touches. Cass knew his attraction the moment he'd seen the man, but he also knew that he was 22 and getting worse. Atlas was an educated doctor with access to his medical history- he knew Cassidy was getting close to that looming expiration date.
Cass got worse quickly, an infection working its way into his weakened lungs that hit him hard and fast. He was sick one day, on fast decline within four days, and by the end of the week on a ventilator. Atlas still hung out with him, spent those quiet hours at his bedside when his family needed to go home and the lights were dim. Atlas had to do all the talking at this point, but Cass was very happy to listen. He slept through most of it, dozed in and out from sleep deprivation and drugs, until one day his lungs just couldn't. Cass had been aware that Atlas was on rotations that day and had tried his hardest to hold out till the he'd gone home- but Cass had been aware of Atlas's shouting voice in those last moment and had been so frustrated that he was leaving the med student with this awful memory to deal with on his own.
Then he'd awoken on a park bench outside a large apartment building, in a short sleeve t-shirt and jeans and the strangest, most weightless feeling in his chest. Breath came to him easily, there was no rattling shake as he exhaled. Cassidy was very aware that he'd died, but he felt like this one the first real breath he'd taken in his entire life.
