Chapter 5 A decent conversation
Viviano had been in the psych ward for seven whole days now.
A full week of the same white walls, the same bland food, the same awkward silences and fake encouragements.
And he was already over it. The days bled together like one long, stretched-out sigh—meals, therapy, rec time, repeat.
It was mind-numbing. Mechanical. He moved through the motions like some half-dead robot just trying to pass time without thinking too hard.
Matteo hadn't visited since day three. That was Viv's doing.
After that last conversation, he told Carla he didn't want any more visitors.
She hadn't argued. Just gave him that sad, understanding look she always wore around him.
Maybe she thought it was part of the process.
But it wasn't that deep. Viv just didn't want to look at the person who signed the forms that dumped him into this place.
Who smiled gently and called it "help" while practically shoving him through the door.
He still hadn't spoken once during group therapy.
Not even when Dr. Barnes (the therapist with the endless cardigan collection and too much fake cheer) tried to gently coax something out of him.
He'd perfected the art of looking just interested enough not to be a problem.
And one-on-one therapy? That was even worse.
Dr. Jacobs was a kind man. He was a lot older, with glasses that slipped down his nose.
He had a soft, patient voice, but his sessions were like wading through oatmeal.
Pointless. Boring. Viv usually sat on the couch, arms crossed, letting the silence build until the timer buzzed and he was allowed to leave.
Seven days. And nothing had changed.
Except maybe the way Ash sometimes looked at him from across their room when he thought Viv wasn't paying attention.
Viv sat on the edge of his bed, socked feet brushing the cold floor, arms folded.
The lights in the hallway were already dimming, and the quiet murmur of nurses doing their last checks bled in under the door.
Ash was over on his side of the room, brushing his teeth at the little sink tucked in the corner, hoodie sleeves rolled up just enough to show the bones in his wrists.
Viv watched the back of him through the mirror's reflection.
He'd been watching a lot, honestly. Not in a creepy way—just..
. observing. Trying to figure it out. Ash was confusing.
Always had been, since the second he stepped into the room and barely looked at Viv.
He had a pretty face, sure, but it wasn't just that.
It was everything. The quiet way he moved.
The painted nails. The softness in his voice.
The way he sat with his knees tucked up like he was protecting something.
But then again, the voice was low sometimes too.
And he had a certain way of walking—almost slouched, hands in his hoodie pocket like every other guy here.
It didn't help that his name could go either way.
Ash. Ashley? Ashton? Asher? Ashlyn? Viv had no fucking idea.
For seven days, he'd gone back and forth in his head, and it was starting to drive him insane. It shouldn't matter, but it did.
Because how the hell was he supposed to act around someone when he didn't even know what they were? He had tried to peek at the name scribbled on Ash's bed too, to see whether his full name would be on it, but unfortunately, it only said Ash.
The green eyed roommate turned off the tap, shook the toothbrush dry, and glanced back toward the beds. Viv's heart thudded harder than it needed to.
"Hey," Viv said suddenly, before he could chicken out.
Ash blinked, a little surprised. "Yeah?"
"What's your deal?" Viv asked, the words cutting through the silence.
Ash turned his head slightly, brows knitting together. "Huh?" he asked, as he made his way to his bed. He lay flat on his back, arms folded across his stomach.
"I mean like, the nails and stuff. The short hair. It kinda... contradicts, don't you think?"
Ash didn't respond right away. He blinked slowly, his expression unreadable. "What?"
"Seriously, what's Ash short for?"
Ash let out a quiet, tired breath through his nose. "Why do you care?"
Viv shifted under his blanket, his voice defensive. "Because I wanna know who I'm rooming with."
Ash rolled his head fully to the side to look at him, face lit only in fragments from the hallway glow. His eyes didn't look angry, more confused. Tired. A little guarded. "And knowing my full name will make you feel better, will it?"
"I guess."
"I told you before. It's just Ash."
"But surely—"
"Viviano." Ash's voice was firmer now. Still soft, but edged. "It's just Ash."
Viv tensed. The way Ash said his full name made his jaw clench. "I told you, my name is Viv."
"And I told you that my name is Ash." Ash turned back to face the ceiling again, ending the conversation like a wall dropping between them.
"You're much nicer when you're silent," Viv muttered childishly, voice low and snide.
"I could say the same thing about you," Ash replied without missing a beat, his voice quiet but sharp, like a dull knife scraping against bone.
Viv rolled onto his back and sighed dramatically. "How long have you been in here anyway?"
Ash turned his head lazily on the pillow, just enough to glance at Viv with an amused squint. "Are you trying to have a nice conversation with me for once?"
"You know what? Forget it."
Silence.
Then, "Three weeks."
Viv blinked. "...Right."
"Yeah."
"That's a long time."
Ash shrugged, the motion barely visible in the dark. "This isn't my first rodeo."
"Oh?" Viv's tone shifted slightly, curious despite himself.
Ash let a beat pass, then muttered, "Go to sleep."
"But—"
"We can talk more about it tomorrow."
"I'm not tired."
Ash groaned softly into his pillow. "You're kidding, right? You sleep literally all the time, and suddenly you're not tired?"
"Yeah, I'm wide awake right now, so let's keep talking."
"Why?"
"Because I'm bored and I'd rather not stare at the wall for the next five hours," Viv replied.
"I'm not staying up with you for five hours," Ash scoffed.
"I never said you had to. Just answer the question."
Ash sighed. "What question? You never asked one."
"This isn't your first time in a mental hospital?" Viv asked quickly, not wanting the conversation to disappear.
Ash tutted. "It's not called a mental hospital, genius."
"Crazy house, then. You've been here before?"
"Once or twice," Ash said flatly, like it wasn't worth elaborating on.
"Really? Why? You seem kinda..."
Ash turned his head again, watching him with tired, guarded eyes. "Kinda what?"
Viv hesitated. He didn't want to say normal, because Ash didn't seem normal. Not really. Everyone was in here for a reason, right? Even himself. But Ash seemed kinda reserved and skittish sometimes. Viv heaved a large sigh and then said, "Fuck it, I'm gonna ask. Are you a dude or a girl?"
The question landed like a dropped stone in the middle of a pond—no splash, just silence.
Ash didn't respond. Not right away, anyway.
Viv couldn't even hear his roommate breathing anymore.
It was almost like he'd vanished, slipped into the mattress and disappeared just to avoid the question.
The air in the room grew heavier by the second, thick with something sharp and invisible.
Viv stared up at the ceiling, suddenly too aware of the way his words were still hanging there, stale and dumb.
He couldn't take them back now. He didn't know why he'd even asked.
Curiosity? Boredom? Either way, it felt like he'd just stomped all over something private without warning.
The silence stretched long and stiff. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it.
Ash didn't shift, didn't sigh, didn't even turn over.
And Viv, for once, couldn't think of a single thing to say.
He swallowed and rolled onto his side, facing the wall, trying to pretend like he hadn't just made everything a hundred times weirder than it already was.
"...Neither," Ash eventually said, barely above a whisper. It was a breath more than a voice, like saying it hurt.
"What?" Viv asked, confused.
"I'm neither," he said again, bolder this time.
Viviano frowned. "I don't understand."
Ash's voice came back tighter, more clipped now. "It's not for you to understand. You asked a question, and I answered."
"But that's not—"
"Neither," Ash repeated.
Viv sat all the way up now, staring across the dark room toward the vague silhouette in the other bed. "So then what the fuck do I call you?"
Ash looked over at Viv and frowned. "Ash. Just call me Ash."
"And what if I wanna refer to you while talking to somebody else?" Viv asked in an exasperated tone of voice.
Ash was quiet for a few moments. Then, he spoke, and when he did, his voice was quieter than ever before. "They or them."
Viv let out an exasperated scoff. "Oh God, not this shit."
There was the sudden sound of a blanket being thrown back. "Excuse me?" Ash's voice was sharp now, rising.
"Sorry, no offense," Viv said quickly, though his tone lacked any real apology. "It's just—I've read about this stuff before. Or, well, I've seen videos. And I gotta say, it's confusing as fuck."
"What?" Ash asked in a low, threatening voice.
Viv rolled his eyes. "Chill, I don't mean it in a bad way."
Ash laughed, bitter. "What other way could you mean it?"
"I just meant like... why?" Viv asked dumbly.
"Why what?" Ash frowned.
"Like, why are you a 'they'? Or a 'them'? And not a 'he' or a 'she'? Like, come on. I'm definitely going to slip up. I've been calling you a guy in my head this entire time."
Ash cringed. "Well, please stop. Because I'm not a guy."
Viv leaned forward, squinting through the dark. "What were you born as?"
The bed creaked sharply, almost like Ash had now stood up too. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"What? I'm trying to be nice here," Viv argued.
"You're being an asshole," Ash said through clenched teeth.
Viv scoffed. "How? By trying to understand you better?"
"Stop with the hetero crap," Ash snapped back, his voice shaking. "My name is Ash, and my pronouns are they/them. That's all there is to it."
Viv flopped back down onto his pillow with a dramatic sigh and roll of his eyes. "Jesus Christ. Non puoi essere serio (you can't be serious). Whatever," he mumbled under his breath.
But the damage had already been done. The silence that followed wasn't the awkward kind anymore—it was hostile. Cold. Like the room itself had taken sides. And Viv, for once, didn't feel like he was winning.
He could feel the anger and annoyance rolling off Ash from the other side of the room like waves.
He shifted under his blanket, staring blankly at the ceiling, heart thudding a little harder in his chest. He wasn't even sure what exactly he'd said that crossed the line, maybe all of it.
Maybe none of it. Maybe just the fact that he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Ash didn't respond again. No snarky comeback. No quiet mutter. Just a stillness that felt more pointed than any words. It pressed in on Viv, made the small room feel even smaller. He turned onto his side, pulling the covers up higher, eyes locked on the faint glow of the nightlight in the corner.
For once, he actually regretted opening his mouth.