Chapter 9 Awkwardness
Viv woke up alone.
The other side of the bed was empty. Still rumpled, like someone had been there recently, but cold now.
Ash must've gone back to his own bed sometime during the night.
Viv stared at the ceiling, barely breathing.
Everything from the night before came back in slow, sharp pieces.
The things he'd said. The way he'd cried.
Ash sitting next to him. Ash lying next to him.
That soft, quiet hand on his arm while he completely fell apart.
God. How embarrassing.
He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned quietly, burying his face in the pillow.
He hadn't cried like that in years—maybe not since he was a kid who fell off his bike and scraped up his knees so bad he needed stitches.
And even then he didn't cry that much.
He'd never let someone see it before. Not like that.
Now Ash had. And he'd stayed. And Viv had let him. His stomach twisted.
They.
Had let them.
Fuck, why was this so difficult for his small brain to comprehend? He mentally scolded himself, but then relaxed and told himself that something this new would take some time, but as long as he was trying and mentally correcting himself when he caught himself slipping up, that was good right?
A knock hit the door, but it didn't wait for a response. The heavyset male nurse—the angry one with the always-creased forehead and permanent scowl—pushed it open with the same flat expression as usual.
"Breakfast," he said gruffly, like he was announcing a fire drill.
Viv flinched at the sound and sat up slowly, his head thick with sleep and leftover emotion. Across the room, Ash blinked himself awake, his face soft and bleary from sleep. For a moment, they just looked at each other, neither of them saying anything.
And in that moment of eye contact, Viv felt every awkward emotion crash into him at once. Shame. Embarrassment. Gratitude. Confusion.
Ash gave him the smallest nod.
Viv looked away.
The hallway was too bright as they both walked out of their room.
Viv squinted against the sterile lights as he walked, arms tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, head down.
Ash walked a little ahead but slowed near the end of the hall so they reached the cafeteria doors at the same time. Neither said a word.
They sat down opposite each other at a table in the corner in silence until their trays were placed in front of them.
The food looked like it always did—soggy scrambled eggs, limp toast, something pretending to be oatmeal.
Viv didn't even bother this time. He just grabbed the banana to make it look like he tried. He peeled it, but didn't take a bite.
Ash didn't call him out on it. He just ate slowly, occasionally glancing up.
Viv stared at the food like it might disappear if he looked hard enough.
He felt hollow again. Or maybe hungover, but from emotion instead of alcohol.
Like last night cracked something open in him that shouldn't have been touched.
Like he'd let someone into a room that had been locked for years.
His fingers picked at the edge of the table.
Ash cleared his throat gently, like he wanted to say something—but didn't. He just pushed his tray forward a little and sat back in his chair.
Viv just kept his eyes on the banana.
The quiet buzz of morning voices filled the cafeteria, but their corner felt detached from it, like an invisible barrier had formed around the two of them.
Ash leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. He stared at Viv for a moment before asking, "Are you finally going to join in and talk during group therapy?"
Viv didn't even blink. "It's optional to speak," he muttered, eyes fixed on a tiny scratch in the table.
"I'll take that as a no," Ash said, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.
"Take it as a definitely not," Viv said flatly, still not looking up. Ash gave a quiet chuckle, but it quickly faded when Viv added under his breath, "I just wanna get drunk."
"You drink?" Ash asked, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.
Viv shrugged one shoulder. "Don't you?"
"Not really," Ash said after a pause.
"You're a teenager. You should be drinking," Viv muttered, tone dry, almost sarcastic.
"Alcohol only ever makes things worse," Ash replied, his voice softer now. He fiddled with the plastic fork on his tray.
Viv tilted his head and stared at him for a second. "What's your poison, then?"
The words landed heavy. Ash shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Silence stretched between them. The air grew dense.
"Self-harm?" Viv asked, his voice deadpan, as if reading it off a list.
Ash flinched—visibly. His whole body went still for a moment, like someone had pressed pause. "Can you not?" he said, barely above a whisper.
"Sorry," Viv mumbled, eyes dropping. There was no sarcasm in his voice this time.
Ash cleared his throat and straightened up. "Anyway," he said, trying to shake it off. "I'm sure you can drink to your heart's content when you get out of here."
Viv huffed out a breath. "How long's that gonna take?"
Ash's expression twisted with hesitation. "Depends on how much progress you make."
Viv finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "And how much progress do you think I've made so far?"
Ash shifted again, his gaze darting away. "I mean... I'm sorry, but you haven't really tried much, have you?"
Viv's face went cold. "What?"
"I mean, you don't speak much in therapy," Ash continued, slowly, cautiously. "You sleep at every chance you get, and you barely let anyone in."
"I don't need to let anyone in," Viv snapped.
Ash didn't flinch this time. He just gave a small, sad smile. "You let me in."
Viv's chest tightened. His mouth opened, then closed again. A thick silence settled between them, heavier than before, because neither of them wanted to touch what had happened last night. Not yet. It was too weird, too raw.
Viv pushed his half-eaten tray away, resting his chin on one hand as his fingers tapped aimlessly against the table. He glanced across at Ash, who was nibbling on a piece of toast like it was a chore. "Do you think your brother hates me now?" Viv asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.
Ash blinked and looked up. "No."
Viv tilted his head, studying his face. "You sure? He seemed ready to punch me yesterday."
Ash exhaled slowly through his nose, looking down at the tray as if it might help him find the right words. "He's just... protective."
"I can tell," Viv muttered. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, eyes still trained on Ash. There was a quiet curiosity behind them now. "He means a lot to you."
Ash's face softened at that. He nodded slightly, like he didn't need to explain further.
Viv kept watching him, brows drawn together. "You gonna tell me more about how you became his stepbrother then?" he asked.
Ash's eyes darted away like a reflex, and he shrugged without meeting Viv's gaze. "Maybe some other time."
"Is it a touchy subject?" Viv pressed.
"Kinda," Ash said simply.
Viv gave a slow nod and didn't push. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, just heavy with the things that had gone unsaid.
Then, a sudden commotion tore through the cafeteria—chairs scraped, a plate clattered to the floor, and someone screamed.
Both boys turned sharply. Across the room, Ava was thrashing wildly as the angry male nurse and Clara tried to restrain her.
Her hair was a tangled mess, tears streaming down her flushed face as she kicked and yelled and cried, her voice raw and desperate.
"Oh no," Ash murmured, his whole body tensing.
"What the fuck?" Viv muttered, eyes wide.
Neither of them moved. They just sat there, frozen, as the chaos echoed off the walls.
All of a sudden, it was like they were reminded again, sharply, of where they really were.
Viv swallowed hard, the lump in his throat catching him by surprise.
Ava's screams weren't just loud, they were real.
They tore straight through the air like broken glass.
For a second, he thought he could feel them in his chest, reverberating under his skin.
Clara's voice was firm but calm as she tried to soothe Ava, but the male nurse wasn't even pretending to be gentle.
He grabbed Ava by the arm too tightly, and she howled, struggling like an animal cornered.
It made Viv feel sick. Ash had gone pale.
His hands were clenched into fists on the table now, knuckles white, shoulders stiff with tension. He didn't blink.
"She was doing okay," Ash muttered, more to himself than to Viv. "She was doing better..."
Viv didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what it felt like to be in Ava's position, but something about the way she screamed made his stomach twist.
They watched in silence as Ava was dragged out of the cafeteria, her cries slowly fading down the hall. When it was finally quiet again, the room felt different. Everyone had gone back to their food, like nothing had happened. But something had.
Viv looked across at Ash. "Has that happened before?"
Ash nodded slightly, not meeting his eyes. "Once. A few weeks ago. Before you got here."
Viv swallowed again. His mouth felt dry. "Does she... is she gonna be okay?"
Ash finally looked up. His eyes were glassy, tired. "I don't know."
"What's she in here for?" Viv found himself asking.
Ash's eyes flickered upwards briefly. "Bipolar and suicidal tendencies," he mumbled.
Viv looked away at that. God, he felt fucking awful for being an asshole towards her now. The chair across from him suddenly felt like it was miles away. The world felt heavier than it had ten minutes ago. "I hate this place," he whispered.
Ash didn't say anything. He just gave a small, almost invisible nod. Like he knew exactly what Viv meant.
Viv eyed Ash out of the corner of his eye. The usual dry amusement and softness had drained from his face, replaced with something smaller, quieter. He looked timid now, like the noise had cracked something in him.
"You okay?" Viv asked carefully.
Ash gave a quick nod, but it was too fast, too mechanical.
"You sure?" Viv pressed.
Ash's hands were shaking. His fingers trembled where they sat on top of the table, and when he tried to fold them together to hide it, the shaking only became more obvious.
Viv frowned. "Ash?"
"I just..." Ash's voice was barely a whisper. "I hate yelling."
The confession hit Viv like a cold wave. Not because of what Ash said, but how he said it. Like it was something he hadn't meant to share, like it slipped out.
"I... do you want me to do anything?" Viv asked, unsure.
"I just wanna go back to the room," Ash muttered.
"Want me to come?"
Ash hesitated, then nodded once. "Sure."
Without another word, they both stood. Neither of them finished their food. No one tried to stop them as they slipped out of the cafeteria.
The hallway outside was quieter, but only slightly. Ava's screams still echoed faintly through the corridors, raw and jarring. Ash winced at the sound and quickly brought his hands up to cover his ears. His shoulders hunched, his steps slower now.
Viv felt something twist in his chest. He reached out, hesitating for a second, then gently placed a hand on Ash's back.
It was a light touch—nothing forceful, just steady.
Guiding. Ash didn't flinch or move away.
He just kept walking, and Viv stayed close, the awful sound of Ava's cries trailing behind them like smoke.
They got back to their room without speaking.
The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Ash beelined for his bed and curled up without a word. He didn't even bother pulling the blanket over himself—he just folded his arms beneath his head and curled inward like he was trying to disappear.
Viv hovered for a second, unsure of what to do with himself.
He thought about saying something, asking if Ash needed anything, but he didn't. Instead, he turned to his own bed and sat down heavily, letting the silence stretch.
It felt like a fragile kind of quiet, like too much noise might make it shatter.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Viv stayed where he was, picking at the skin around his thumbnail, eyes flicking back and forth between the wall and the floor. His leg bounced. He told himself not to overthink it, to let Ash have space.
But then he heard it. The faintest little sniffle from across the room. Barely even a sound. But it made his heart clench.
He glanced over, hesitant. Ash's back was still to him, but his shoulders had curled tighter. Another sniffle. This one more audible. A shaky exhale followed.
Viv's gut twisted.
He stood up slowly, moved to the edge of Ash's bed, and sat down as quietly as he could. His hands rested on his knees.
"You okay?" he asked softly, not expecting an answer.
Ash didn't respond. He just curled in tighter. Viv took that as something—not quite permission, but not rejection either.
Viv's voice was soft, careful. "You wanna talk about it?"
Ash didn't answer right away. He stayed still, curled slightly into himself. Viv waited, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Then, quietly, Ash said, "Reminds me of home."
Viv blinked. "What does?"
"The shouting," Ash murmured, voice barely audible.
"Oh," Viv mumbled, his throat tightening. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"I hate it," Ash whispered.
Viv didn't say anything this time. What could he say? He wasn't good with words, not when it mattered. And Ash looked so small all of a sudden, fragile in a way that made Viv's chest ache.
Ash shifted, rolling onto his back slowly so he could look at Viv. Their eyes met. Viv's breath hitched.
Ash's green eyes were wet and glossy, his cheeks blotched and streaked with dried tears.
The tip of his nose was pink from crying, and strands of his messy blond hair clung to his damp forehead.
There was something about him in that moment—something raw and soft and quietly beautiful—and Viv didn't know what to do with the thought.
It freaked him out a little. But he kept his face flat and still, like always.
"I told you my childhood sucked," Ash murmured with a weak sniffle. "My parents used to fight all the time."
Viv nodded.
"Not just yelling," Ash murmured. "Physically too. It was scary."
Viv swallowed. "They hit each other?"
"It was mostly my... my..." Ash drew in a breath that stuttered halfway through. "My d-dad. He used to hit my mum. Me too, sometimes."
"He used to hit you?" Viv asked, voice low.
Ash nodded once, his eyes unfocused, distant.
"Why?" Viv asked before he could stop himself.
Ash's face twisted, clearly hurt. His brow pulled together and he looked away.
"Sorry," Viv said quickly, the words tumbling out. "I never— No, that's not what I meant. I mean— I— I was just—"
"I get it," Ash said quietly, cutting him off.
He stared at the ceiling, eyes flickering.
"He was an alcoholic," Ash said flatly. "Never knew what day it was. Spent most of the time on the couch watching TV or smashing bottles against walls. Sometimes at our heads, too."
Viv stared at him, guilt climbing up his throat. "Ash... I'm sorry."
Ash gave a small shrug, like he didn't know what to do with the sympathy. "It's why I don't drink," he added.
Viv's stomach twisted as he remembered what he'd said at breakfast—"I just wanna get drunk.
" The words echoed now, sharp and careless.
He stared at the floor, his jaw tight. He felt like shit.
He stared down at the floor between his feet, his knuckles white from where his hands gripped the edge of the bed.
Ash hadn't said anything else, just stared up at the ceiling, his breathing slowly returning to normal, though there was still the occasional sniffle.
Viv opened his mouth a couple times, but no words came out. Everything he thought of saying felt wrong, too small, too stupid. What the hell did you say to someone who just told you something like that?
"I didn't know," he said finally, his voice hoarse.
Ash turned his head a little to glance at him. "'Course you didn't," he said. "It's not like I go around handing out flyers."
Viv gave a small, dry laugh. "Still. I shouldn't have said that thing earlier. About wanting to get drunk. That was messed up. I didn't mean it like—" He cut himself off, groaning softly. "Fuck. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I always manage to mess shit up."
Ash shifted again, curling onto his side so he was facing Viv fully now, one arm tucked under his head. His eyes looked clearer, but tired. "Shut up, Viv. I know you didn't mean anything by it," Ash said.
"I'm still sorry," Viv said again, quieter this time. "Seriously."
Ash nodded slowly. "You're not the worst roommate I've had, if that makes you feel better."
Viv blinked, then huffed a small breath through his nose. "That's... comforting."
They sat in a long, drawn-out quiet after that. Not tense, just... drained. Like the air between them had been wrung out.
Viv leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. "You ever... wish things were different?" he asked, voice so low he wasn't sure Ash even heard him.
Ash's voice was barely a whisper. "All the time."
Viv nodded, more to himself than anything.
There was a sudden knock at the door. Not loud, but firm. It was sharp enough to jolt both boys out of the heavy quiet that had settled between them.
Ash sat up a little, wiping at his face, just as the door cracked open and Nurse Carla poked her head inside. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun now, and her scrubs were slightly wrinkled. Her eyes looked tired—soft, but done with nonsense.
"Ash," she said gently, "group therapy started ten minutes ago. Dr. Julie has asked me to come find you."
Ash sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Right. Sorry. Lost track of time."
Carla nodded, then looked at Viv. "You're excused from group today, Viviano."
Viv's brows pulled together, and tried to ignore the fact that she just called him his full fucking name again. "Why?"
"Dr. Joseph would like to see you for a one-on-one session," she said. "His office. As soon as possible."
Viv's stomach clenched. He looked at Ash, then back at Carla. "Can I... not?"
Carla raised a brow, arms folding across her chest. "Dr. Joseph rearranged his entire morning to make time for you. You've been here over a week and he's been more than patient. This isn't optional."
Viv wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her he didn't feel like spilling his guts to some guy with a clipboard and a clinical smile. But the look on her face shut that down fast. She was done being nice about it. "Fine," he muttered, pulling himself to his feet.
"Thank you," she said, stepping aside to let Ash pass.
Ash hesitated at the door and looked back at Viv.
Their eyes met for a brief second—Ash offering the smallest, quietest look of encouragement before slipping out and heading down the hallway.
Viv exhaled slowly, like he was gearing up for battle, then followed Nurse Carla out into the corridor.
His shoulders hunched a little more than usual.
Like maybe, just maybe, he was bracing himself to finally talk.