Chapter 2 What are you in here for?
Viv's eyes snapped open to the sound of a sharp knock on the door.
He groaned, his body stiff and unwilling to cooperate with his brain's desire to stay in the warm, comforting silence of sleep.
The room was still dim, the kind of light that made everything feel too early, too forced.
He turned his head slightly and saw the tall shape of a male nurse standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking like he had better things to do than be there.
"Hey," the nurse said, voice flat and uninterested, "Breakfast time. Get up."
Viv blinked, a mix of confusion and irritation flooding through him.
The guy hadn't even introduced himself, just barged in and barked out orders.
Viv sat up slowly, his back aching from the thin mattress that had somehow gotten even less comfortable over the hours.
If they were allowed their phones, he could have just put an alarm on himself.
But no. Phones were dangerous apparently. This place was so, so dumb.
"Yeah, yeah," Viv mumbled under his breath, rubbing his eyes. He didn't care about breakfast. He didn't care about anything right now. He just wanted to sleep some more. It was too early.
The nurse gave him a look, something between a shrug and a smirk, and turned to leave. "Be down there in ten. Don't make me come back." And then he was gone, footsteps retreating down the hall.
Viv slouched back down into the bed for a second, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be going to breakfast. He didn't want to, but he didn't want to deal with any more random nurse encounters, either.
Not that it would matter if he stayed in bed.
This whole place was like a zoo. They'd just come back and drag him out if he refused.
He glanced over at his roommate, who was still sitting on the other bed, pulling on a hoodie and looking like he was in no hurry.
Viv didn't know why he was watching him, but there was something about the way he moved that made him feel like he had nowhere else to be either. He was just... here. And that was it.
He caught Viv's eye for a brief moment. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them had said anything since they'd kinda met last night. There was a weird kind of tension between them. It was awkward, but not uncomfortable.
Viv shifted his eyes to the floor, trying not to care about how strange it felt to be sharing a room with someone he couldn't even talk to.
His roommate was just... quiet. Maybe he was shy, maybe he just didn't care.
Either way, Viv wasn't about to make the first move.
His whole attitude screamed nonchalance.
If he didn't want to talk, fine. Viv didn't either.
The guy adjusted his hoodie, looking anywhere but at Viv, as though it was too much effort to make small talk. Viv couldn't decide if that was more annoying or relieving.
"Guess we should go," Viv said, breaking the silence with a dry tone, even though he didn't really care.
The guy didn't respond. Instead, he just stood up, slowly, like everything was happening in slow motion. Viv watched him shuffle toward the door, his footsteps almost inaudible.
Viv didn't move right away. He stretched, threw off the blanket, and followed suit, his thoughts numb and distracted. His head felt heavy, and he didn't even want to know what kind of miserable breakfast awaited him downstairs.
As he walked past his roommate on his way out the door, he felt the strange urge to say something.
Literally, anything. It would make it less awkward, right?
But he stopped himself. He didn't need to get to know this weird new person.
And this kid didn't need to know Viv. Neither of them said a word as they stepped into the hallway.
Viv followed his roommate down the hall, a few steps behind, because he had no idea where the hell he was supposed to be going.
The place was a maze of identical doors and sterile walls, and every step felt like a reminder that he didn't belong here.
He watched his roommate move ahead, his quiet strides purposeful, like he knew exactly where he was going.
Viv couldn't help but wonder how long he had been here before Viv showed up.
A few weeks? A few months? Maybe this was just his life now, an endless loop of waking up in rooms like this, waiting for the next day to be a little less unbearable than the last. He tried to catch a glimpse of his roommate's face, but the guy's eyes were fixed straight ahead, avoiding his gaze like it was some kind of challenge.
He felt a weird tug of curiosity about him—how old was he?
He didn't look like he was much older than Viv, but then again, who could really tell in a place like this?
He wasn't even sure if he wanted to know.
He hated that feeling, the kind of curiosity that made you feel like you had to ask questions just to fill in the blanks, even when you knew the answers didn't matter.
The cafeteria wasn't far—just around the corner and down the hall.
As they walked in, the hum of voices and clattering trays hit him like a wave.
The bright, buzzing lights overhead made everything feel too sharp, too real, too loud.
Viv stepped through the door and automatically scanned the room.
It was bigger than he expected—long tables with plastic chairs, everyone scattered about, some talking in quiet voices, others sitting alone, lost in their own heads.
It smelled like hospital food, a mix of bland and overcooked.
Nurse Carla spotted them immediately. She smiled like she had done the previous day, that fake, perky kind of smile that never quite reached her eyes. "Good morning, you two," she said, her voice bright. "How're we feeling today?"
Viv didn't answer, just kept walking past her with his eyes down, not really in the mood to engage.
"Okay," she muttered under her breath, watching Viv walk past. Then her kind eyes turned towards his roommate and she smiled softly. "How about you, Ash? Sleep okay?"
Viv turned his head a little just in time to see his roommate nod.
Ash.
The name annoyed the hell out of Viv. He had been trying to figure it out, but now that he had the answer, it didn't help.
Ash. Was that short for Ashley?
Or was it short for Ashton? Was Ash a boy or a fucking girl?
Jesus Christ. Viv's brow furrowed slightly.
He couldn't shake the question. He'd been wondering since the second 'Ash' walked in the room.
Sure, he'd assumed it was a guy when they put him in here, but now, hearing the name, he wasn't so sure anymore.
But surely they wouldn't make him room with a girl. He was so confused.
Ash didn't seem to care about any of that.
He just walked to the nearest table, barely glancing around, and sat down, his green eyes scanning the room like he was looking for something specific.
It almost looked like he was used to this—used to the routine, the noise, the awkwardness.
Like he knew his place in this mess better than Viv did.
Viv stood for a second, still processing the name. Ash. Could be anything. Could be anyone. He shook his head, annoyed with himself. He was overthinking it. It didn't matter.
Nurse Carla's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You two going to sit together?" she asked, glancing between the two of them with that ever-present fake smile.
Viv opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn't come out right away.
The question felt stupid. He didn't even want to sit with Ash, didn't want to sit with anyone.
But this place was small. There wasn't anywhere to go that wasn't in the middle of everything.
Ash was already sitting down, and Viv didn't feel like looking for a seat on the other side of the cafeteria, so he just shrugged a little and dropped himself down into the uncomfortable seat across from him, not making a big deal of it.
As Nurse Carla walked away, Viv looked across the table at Ash, who was staring down at his tray that another nurse had handed to them.
The silence between them felt thicker now.
Viv still didn't know what to say. What could he say?
Ash barely noticed. He was already poking at his food, lost in his own head.
Viv slouched in his seat, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him again, but still, he couldn't stop wondering: Was Ash short for Ashley? Or was it Ashton? It was stupid. It didn't matter. But for some reason, it did.
Viv stared down at the tray that had just been set in front of him, the edges of it too clean, too perfect.
The food was exactly what he'd expected—soggy scrambled eggs, a slice of toast that looked more like cardboard, and a small plastic cup of fruit that probably tasted like disappointment.
What annoyed him most, though, was that the tray had been brought over to him.
Like he couldn't even be trusted to get his own god damn breakfast. He didn't need anyone bringing him food, treating him like he was incapable of doing something as simple as picking up a tray.
The whole thing felt dumb and patronising, like they thought he was too broken to do anything for himself.
It made his skin crawl, and it wasn't just the food that was off, it was the whole act.
Viv shoved the tray slightly to the side, not even bothering to touch the eggs. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't hungry in the way they wanted him to be. He wasn't starving for anything except peace and quiet, but they didn't get that, did they?
He glanced over at Ash again, who was already picking at his own food, not saying anything.
It felt like they were both in the same boat: objects in the same system, treated like they weren't capable of simple things, like eating for themselves.
That was what it felt like, at least. Like they were too weak to be in charge of their own lives.
Viv let out a breath and leaned back in his chair, staring at the tray like it was some kind of insult.
He hated this. Hated that everything was being done for him, as if he was too fragile to make his own choices.
Too fragile to even walk into the damn cafeteria without someone watching over him.
He wasn't helpless. He didn't need to be babied. And yet... here he was.
The cafeteria buzzed around Viv as the minutes dragged on, each tick of the clock pressing on him like a reminder of how much he wanted to be anywhere but here.
His tray was still untouched, the food cold and unappetising in front of him.
It wasn't that he didn't eat like a normal person, it was just that he didn't feel like eating today.
Or yesterday. Or maybe for the past week.
It didn't matter. He wasn't hungry. But the tray sat there, as if it were demanding to be consumed, taunting him with its blandness.
The noise of the cafeteria seemed to grow louder, the clattering of trays and the murmur of voices filling the silence that stretched between him and Ash. He hadn't even realised how much time had passed until the soft voice broke through it all.
"You have an eating disorder?" Ash's words were soft, almost quiet, like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be asking. But he asked it anyway, bluntly, with no hint of hesitation. No attempt to soften the question.
Viv's head snapped up, his eyes wide for a moment as the question hit him like a slap. He wasn't used to someone just asking something like that. It wasn't subtle or cautious—it was just out there. He hadn't expected Ash to speak to him at all, let alone with such bluntness.
"What?" Viv scoffed, his stomach tightening in sudden irritation. He couldn't tell if he was more surprised by the question or by how comfortable Ash seemed asking it.
"Is that why you're in this place? You have an ED?" Ash asked, glancing up at Viv briefly and then looking down at his plate again skittishly. Ash seemed to be scared and timid.
"No," Viv muttered, shaking his head, trying to brush it off.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, almost angry at the assumption.
He wasn't going to give Ash the satisfaction of knowing that, even if the question stung, it didn't come from nowhere.
But no. He didn't have an eating disorder.
He was just... not hungry. And the food here? Well, that wasn't really helping.
Ash didn't look offended or judgmental. He just sat there, his eyes calm, looking down at his tray with an expression that could have been confused or curious—Viv couldn't decide which. The silence stretched for a moment before Ash finally spoke again, his voice still soft, careful.
"Just thought... because you weren't eating," Ash said, shrugging lightly, his fingers tracing the edge of his cup. It was the first time he'd spoken more than a few words, and Viv almost felt like it wasn't supposed to be anything big—just a casual question. But it felt a lot heavier than that.
Viv let out a breath, annoyed at how something so simple felt like it was pressing in on him. "I'm not fucking anorexic," he muttered, the words coming out flat, dismissive. "I'm just not hungry, that's all. Plus the food looks like shit."
Ash nodded, but didn't say anything else. Viv couldn't tell if he was satisfied with that answer or just choosing not to push further. But either way, the awkwardness didn't go away. It just hung there, unspoken, between them.
Viv stared at his untouched food, irritated by the whole exchange. He wasn't going to let himself get dragged into this, not with someone he didn't even know.
The silence stretched on, heavier this time.
Suddenly, people started standing up and pushing their chairs back.
Viv stared at his untouched tray. He was already tired of this place, tired of the dumb new routine, but he knew he had to move or else he would get scolded, and they would then tell his brother, and then his brother would cry some more.
They other patients were already starting to clear out, and he wasn't about to be the last one sitting there, looking like a weirdo.
He stood up slowly, pushing his chair back and glancing around for Ash, who had already gotten to his feet, as expected, and was making his way toward the door.
Viv hesitated for a second, unsure whether he should follow him or hang back, but the group was already starting to move, all of them heading in the same direction.
Group therapy, he remembered. It was the next thing on the list of things to endure. The same cycle. Get up, get dragged to the next "session," pretend to care about what everyone else is talking about, and then go back to his room to sit in silence until they called it time for something else.
Viv sighed, following the herd. It wasn't like he had a choice. He wasn't going to make a scene. Not yet, anyway.
The hallway seemed even more sterile now that the buzz of the cafeteria had died down. People shuffled in and out of doorways, some walking with purpose, others dragging their feet, all heading for the same room.
Viv found himself walking behind Ash, his steps awkward and hesitant.
He didn't know why he felt the need to be so distant, but it was like some invisible barrier was keeping him from engaging with anyone.
Ash had already shown him more attention than Viv was used to, and he didn't feel like doing anything with that.
"Hey."
Viv blinked, his eyes flickering to the side. It was Ash's voice again, soft and casual.
"Yeah?" Viv asked, glancing at him, but Ash didn't look back. He was walking ahead, his hands in his hoodie pockets, focused on the door to the therapy room.
"You... okay?" Ash asked, not in a tone that expected an answer, more like he was just checking in.
Viv opened his mouth to say something snarky, something dismissive. But then he paused. He was so tired of pretending to be fine all the time. Tired of answering with the same empty words, tired of hearing the same questions that had no meaning. He didn't want to deal with it. Not today.
"Yeah," Viv muttered, a little too quickly. "Fine."
Ash nodded, still not looking at him, and pushed the door open. Viv followed behind, trying to shake off the weird tension that had settled between them.
Inside the therapy room, the atmosphere was weird. He saw a circle of chairs and muttered a curse word under his breath. He could already feel it: The awkward energy of forced vulnerability.
People sat down without speaking, their eyes on the floor or each other, avoiding the inevitable question: Who will speak first?
Viv chose a seat toward the back of the circle, not because he wanted to be in the corner, but because he didn't want to have to deal with the possibility of being singled out. He slid into the chair and crossed his arms, staring straight ahead at the back of the chair in front of him.
The therapist, a woman with round glasses and a soft smile, looked around the room. "Good morning, everyone," she said, her voice warm but somehow tired, like she had said this same thing a thousand times. "Let's start with a check-in. How's everyone feeling today?"
Viv didn't even try to look interested. He just leaned back in his chair, focusing on the walls, the floor... anything but the people around him.
Nobody really said anything at first. Just a bunch of blank stares and awkward silence.
The kind that stretches so long you can hear the clock ticking on the wall.
Viv slouched further down in his chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the scuffed floor.
He could feel it—the therapist scanning the room, trying to decide who to poke first.
Her voice cut through the quiet. "It's okay if no one wants to start. We'll just ease into it."
Viv didn't look up. But he felt her gaze land on him, just for a second too long.
It burned, like when a teacher stares you down in class after asking a question and you know damn well you didn't do the reading.
But she must've seen the don't even try me look on his face, because thankfully, she moved on without calling his name.
Someone sniffled. Someone else coughed. Then finally, a girl with long sleeves covering her hands cleared her throat and started talking. Something about how she hadn't slept properly in days. Something about her dad yelling and how she feels like she's never good enough.
Viv resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Then some kid with a lot of acne and a shaky voice jumped in, saying he felt "invisible" at home and college.
Like no one even noticed he existed. And another girl said she kept getting panic attacks in the middle of the day and thought she was dying until she realised it was just 'anxiety.
' Viv tuned them out after that. It all sounded the same.
Like a chorus of whining kids looking for someone to tell them "it's gonna be okay. "
He hated how everyone here seemed desperate to spill their guts to a bunch of strangers in a circle.
Like that was supposed to fix anything. He got that people had problems—sure, who didn't? But some of them acted like they were the only ones who'd ever felt sad before.
Like feeling miserable made them special.
He sighed through his nose and leaned back further in the plastic chair, tilting his head to stare up at the ceiling.
It was cracked in one corner. Probably water damage.
He wondered how long it'd been like that. Probably forever.
He didn't want to talk. Not because he had nothing to say—he had plenty—but because he didn't want to join in on this pity parade.
He wasn't here to be part of some crying circle.
He just wanted the hour to pass so he could go back to his room, lie on the bed, and continue doing absolutely nothing.
That was the plan. And so far, it was the only thing keeping him sane.
The psych ward was specifically for young adults, people between 18 and 25.
The one who were old enough to not be thrown in with the kids, but apparently still not "stable" enough for the real adult world.
Viv hated the in-between vibe of it all.
Everyone here was technically an adult, but the place still felt like some weird halfway point between a high school detention room and a prison lounge.
They were treated like they were fragile, like one wrong move might crack them open completely, but also expected to act like grown-ups who could talk about their feelings in circles and journal their way to mental health. It already felt exhausting.
"Ash, how about you? Anything you'd like to share this morning?"
Viv blinked and tilted his head just enough to glance across the circle at the mention of his roommate.
Ash didn't say a word. He just lowered his head, let his chin rest near his chest, and kept his eyes on the floor like he hadn't even heard the question.
Or maybe he had, but just didn't care enough to answer.
His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie again, fingers fidgeting with the fabric in a slow, repetitive way.
It wasn't dramatic or tense. Just quiet.
Like he'd vanished in his own head and had no interest in coming back out.
The silence that followed was heavier than before. For a second, Viv thought the therapist might try again, nudge him a little, but she didn't. She gave Ash the same pass she gave Viv earlier. Just moved right along, like pretending to respect boundaries was part of the game.
Viv couldn't tell if Ash was scared or just antisocial, but either way, it weirdly made him feel a little less alone. At least he wasn't the only one who didn't want to spill his guts for the group's benefit.
Still, there was something about the way Ash shut down—so fast, so smooth—that made Viv glance at him a second longer than he meant to.
Not out of concern. Just curiosity. He wasn't sure what Ash's deal was yet, but he had a feeling he wasn't the only one in the room with too many thoughts and zero interest in saying them out loud.