The Darkness Consumes

Chapter 14 A shattered mess

Viv slumped into the same chair he always did during his one-on-one sessions, arms crossed, jaw tense.

The room felt too warm, the light filtering through the blinds too sharp.

Dr. Jacobs sat across from him in his usual calm, patient posture—elbows on the armrest, pen resting against the pages of his notepad, though he hadn't written anything yet.

"I hate them," Viv muttered, eyes fixed on the scuffed floor. "The meds. I hate the way they make me feel."

Dr. Jacobs nodded, his expression open. "In what way?"

Viv let out a breath through his nose, sharp and frustrated. "Like I'm not even me anymore. I feel... floaty. Detached. Like everything's happening a second too slow. My head's full of fog, my appetite's gone, and I still feel like shit, just... slower about it."

Jacobs didn't speak. Just let him keep going.

"I used to at least feel things," Viv went on, voice low. "Now it's like someone stuffed all my emotions into a box and duct-taped it shut. They're still there, I can feel them trying to crawl out, but everything's muted. Numb."

Jacobs scribbled something down. "You've only been on them five days."

Viv huffed. "And I already want to flush them."

Jacobs leaned forward a little, his voice calm. "What you're describing isn't unusual. Sometimes the first couple weeks are rough while your system adjusts."

Viv snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Yeah, and what if I don't want to adjust? What if this is worse than before?"

"If it is," Jacobs said, "then we'll make changes. You're not locked into this. There are other options."

Viv didn't answer. He just stared at the floor like he wanted to burn a hole through it.

After a moment, Jacobs asked, "Have you talked to Ash about how you're feeling?"

Viv's head snapped up slightly, like the question had physically caught him off guard.

"No," he said quickly. Too quickly. "Why would I?"

Jacobs raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "Sometimes it helps to be honest with people who care about you."

Viv scoffed, eyes flicking away again. "Care about me? Ash and I are just roommates. We... we barely speak."

"Oh?"

"Plus, other people have got their own crap going on. The last thing somebody like Ash needs is me spiralling and ranting on about side effects."

Jacobs didn't argue. He just nodded and waited, like always.

But Viv felt something turn over in his chest anyway.

He thought of Ash—of how quiet they'd been that morning, how tired they'd looked.

Of the way they smiled in the dark last night, like Viv being there actually meant something.

And maybe it did. But Viv didn't feel like himself.

Not really. Not on these meds. Not in this fog.

So if Ash liked this version of him, the weird, dulled-down, half-there version, then what did that even mean?

Viv didn't say any of that. He just sat there in the silence, hating the way everything felt heavy and floaty at the same time. Dr. Jacobs gave him the space, didn't try to fill the quiet. He just waited.

Eventually, Viv muttered, "I'd rather feel everything than nothing at all."

And Jacobs simply nodded. "That makes sense."

For once, Viv appreciated that he didn't try to explain it away.

~

The rec room smelled faintly like marker pens and stale coffee, and the ceiling fan made a soft, persistent whir that filled the silences between words. Viv slouched back into the couch, arms folded, while Matteo sat on the other end, one ankle resting over his knee like he owned the place.

"Your hair's getting longer," Matteo noted, giving Viv a sideways glance. "It's starting to do that thing where it curls at the back. You look like a depressed 90s heartthrob."

Viv rolled his eyes but didn't suppress the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I'll shave it all off."

"You do that and I'll personally file a complaint. You're the only one I know who can pull off that tragic model look."

Viv snorted. "You're so dramatic."

They sat in companionable silence for a while.

The TV mounted on the far wall played something neither of them was watching, and a few other patients hovered around the room playing board games or just milling about.

Viv's eyes wandered occasionally to the corner where he and Ash usually sat, but the spot was empty today. He hadn't seen Ash since breakfast.

Matteo noticed. "You okay?"

Viv blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

"You keep looking around like you lost something."

Viv shrugged. "Just checking the room."

"Uh-huh."

They both knew that was a lie, but Matteo didn't press it. Instead, he leaned forward and reached for the pack of cards on the table in front of them. "Wanna play something or are we just gonna sit here silently judging people?"

"I like silently judging people," Viv said, then sighed. "But fine. Deal me in."

Matteo smirked as he started to shuffle. "You're in a mood today."

Viv didn't answer. He wasn't sure what kind of mood he was in, really. He was tired. He missed Ash, even if that was stupid. And the meds were still fogging up his head like someone had jammed cotton balls behind his eyes. But Matteo being here helped. It always did.

Still, he found himself glancing toward the door again, just in case Ash walked through it.

Just in case.

"You think Mum will ever visit me?" Viv asked, his voice low, almost drowned out by the muffled hum of conversation from the rest of the rec room.

Matteo looked up in surprise from the deck of cards in his hand, his brow furrowing. "Uh, do you want her to?"

Viv stared ahead, eyes fixed on a crack in the coffee table between them. "Not really."

"Then she probably won't," Matteo said after a beat, the honesty in his tone hitting gently but firmly.

Viv's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because I don't want her to, or because she doesn't want to?"

Matteo exhaled slowly, leaning back into the couch and rubbing a hand across his jaw. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Just tell me the truth," Viv muttered. His eyes were glazed but hard. "She's left me in here to rot, hasn't she?"

Matteo's gaze softened. He put the cards down. "Why do you care about her anyway? You have me."

"I know, but—"

"No." Matteo leaned forward, elbows on his knees now, voice firmer. "Viv, don't think about her. She's not worth your time or effort. The only thing you should be focusing on is getting better."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Viv muttered bitterly, his hands twitching in his lap. "But nobody is telling me what I should be getting better from. I'm completely fine, Matteo. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Matteo looked at him like he was watching someone slowly unravel. "You're not fine."

Viv scoffed and looked away. "Yeah, yeah. I don't eat, I sleep too much and I barely speak. I've heard it all before and—"

"And you black out, fratello (brother)."

Viv froze. The words hit harder than he expected. His jaw clenched. "What?"

Matteo let the silence hang between them for a second before answering. "You need to speak more in therapy," he said, softer now. "Dr. Jacobs says you keep shutting down."

Viv's head snapped toward him. "You're talking to my therapist behind my back?"

Matteo didn't flinch. "Someone has to," he said. "Because you sure as hell aren't saying anything to him."

Viv's shoulders tensed and his mouth opened like he was going to argue, but nothing came out.

For a moment, he just sat there, chest tight, stomach twisting, heart racing in that familiar, angry way it did when someone peeled back the layers he didn't want touched.

He hated how Matteo looked at him sometimes.

Like he was something broken that needed fixing.

Like he couldn't even see him anymore, only all the things Viv was doing wrong.

He stood up abruptly, the motion sharp and impulsive. "I need some air."

"Viv—"

"Oh wait, I can't even have that because we aren't allowed to fucking go outside.

What kind of nut house is this?" Viv asked angrily, shoving the coffee table aside with his foot.

A few people looked over, startled and confused by his outburst, but Viv didn't care.

He continued to storm away from his brother.

"Viv! Come back right now," Matteo called out loudly.

But Viv was already walking toward the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down, trying to outrun the truth that clung to him like a shadow he couldn't shake.

His footsteps echoed sharply down the sterile hallway, each one faster and heavier than the last. The pale overhead lights buzzed faintly, but all he could hear was his own pulse hammering in his ears.

His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white, and his jaw ached from how hard he was grinding his teeth.

Talking to my therapist behind my back.

Letting me rot away in here.

Talking about black outs like they're an actual thing.

The words spiraled around his head like a storm and the anger, hot and aimless, churned in his chest. He didn't know who he was mad at—Matteo, himself, the walls of this place, or maybe all of it. He didn't care. He just needed to get back to his room. Slam the door. Be alone.

But just as he rounded the corner past Dr. Jacobs' office, the door swung open and Ash stepped out, clutching a notebook to his chest. Well, it was his journal. The one that Viv had seen before. They bumped into each other unexpectedly, shoulders colliding.

"Oh, hey," Ash said with a soft, hopeful smile.

Viv didn't even pause. "Move," he snapped, shoving past before Ash could say another word.

Ash blinked, visibly flinching at the tone. "Wha—?"

But Viv was already storming off, head low, shoulders hunched. He didn't look back.

Ash hesitated for a second, staring after him with furrowed brows and an uncertain expression, but then he quickly adjusted his grip on his notebook and hurried down the hall after him. His shoes thudded lightly against the floor as he jogged to keep up, worry flickering behind his eyes.

"Viv, wait. What happened?" Ash called, but Viv didn't slow.

Viv's voice was gruff as he reached for the bedroom door. "Go away," he muttered, his fingers trembling against the handle.

Ash frowned, stepping forward. "What's wrong?"

"Go away, Ash!" Viv barked, louder this time, yanking the door open with more force than necessary.

Ash's hand lifted instinctively, but the door was already swinging. "But I just—"

"Seriously, fuck off!" Viv snarled, rounding on him with a flash of fury in his eyes. He slammed the door with a thunderous bang, the sound echoing down the corridor like a gunshot.

Ash blinked at the closed door, stunned.

His lips parted slightly as if to say something, but no sound came.

He stood there for a beat, gripping the notebook against his chest, his heart hammering with confusion and hurt.

Then, with a sharp sigh through his nose, he pushed the door open and marched inside.

Viv was pacing furiously between their beds, back and forth like a caged animal. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, his whole body wound tight with rage.

"What happened, Viv?" Ash asked, trying to keep his voice level, even as his pulse spiked.

"Everything!" Viv roared without hesitation, his voice cracking under the strain.

Ash flinched, instinctively taking a step back.

"Everything fucking sucks," Viv spat, hands gesturing wildly. "I just wanna get the fuck out of here!"

Ash swallowed. "Don't we all?"

Viv spun to him, eyes ablaze. "Don't do that shit. Don't try and put me in the same box as you. We're nothing alike and you have no idea what I'm going through."

"Then tell me," Ash said, stepping closer despite the heat in Viv's voice. "Talk to me."

"Why does everyone insist on talking?"

"Because it helps," Ash said gently, unfazed by the aggression. His calm was infuriating.

"Well it won't help me," Viv hissed, his voice lowering but no less sharp. "So just leave me alone."

Ash opened his mouth, his brows drawing together. "But I just wanna—"

"Jesus Christ, you don't give up!" Viv exploded. "Listen to me! I'm not like you and I don't need to talk about my feelings all the damn time, okay? I shouldn't even be in this fucking place, I'm not messed up like—"

He stopped suddenly. The words hovered in the air like smoke. His chest was heaving.

Ash's expression shifted. The flicker of something behind his eyes—hurt, betrayal, shame—deepened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he exhaled shakily and looked away. When he met Viv's eyes again, they shimmered.

"Like me, you mean?" he said softly.

Viv froze. "...No, that's not what I—"

"Okay, yeah," Ash cut in, his voice trembling but steady.

"Maybe I do have some issues. Maybe I'm not always feeling great.

And yeah, sometimes I hurt myself just to make the emotional pain stop for a little while.

Maybe I've got daddy issues. Maybe I wake up screaming in the middle of the night because I can still hear him.

Maybe I can't even look in the mirror some days because I really fucking hate what I see.

But you know what?" His voice wavered. "At least I'm a decent person who doesn't make other people feel like crap just because I'm having a shitty day. "

Viv stood in stunned silence, the weight of Ash's words crashing down on him all at once.

His anger dissolved into something much colder.

Guilt. Sharp, sickening guilt. His mouth opened, then closed.

The fire inside him was gone, replaced by the hollow echo of his own cruelty. And he hated himself for it.

Viv's voice cracked, barely audible as the shame hit him in waves. "I... I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet Ash's gaze.

Ash stood there stiffly. "Yeah, sure," he muttered, voice low and bitter.

"No, I mean it," Viv said quickly, looking up. His throat felt tight. "I'm so sor—"

"Forget it," Ash interrupted coldly, already turning for the door. "I'll leave you alone."

Panic flared in Viv's chest. "No, please—" he dashed forward without thinking and grabbed Ash's wrist, fingers wrapping around the warmth of his skin.

Ash jerked back instantly, flinching as if he'd been burned. "Don't touch me," he snapped, pulling his hand away like it hurt.

Viv recoiled, hands raised in surrender. "Okay. Okay, look," he said hurriedly, voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? You're right. You're right, I'm a fucking asshole and I shouldn't be taking my anger out on you."

Ash's posture stayed guarded for a beat, eyes still shining with unshed tears. But something in his expression softened just slightly. "No," he said quietly, "you shouldn't be."

Viv nodded, heart pounding. "Can... shall we sit down? Talk?" he asked, swallowing hard. His voice was low, almost childlike in its uncertainty.

Ash hesitated, gaze flicking down to the floor before slowly lifting his eyes to meet Viv's again. And then, with a small nod, he agreed.

They sat down side by side on Viv's bed, the mattress dipping slightly under their weight.

The air felt heavy but calmer now, like the tension had exhaled out of the room.

Viv shifted awkwardly, his shoulders brushing against Ash's.

It was such a small point of contact, barely anything, but it lit up Viv's nerves like a fuse.

He tried to stay still, tried to pretend it didn't matter, but his heart was pounding in his ears, and suddenly he was hyper-aware of everything: the way their legs were almost touching, the warmth of Ash's arm next to his, the subtle scent of his shampoo—something soft and clean, like lavender.

Viv cleared his throat, trying to shove the thoughts away. He looked down at Ash's hands, fidgeting gently in his lap. That's when he noticed the familiar spine of the battered journal tucked beneath Ash's arm, slightly bent at the corner.

"Why'd you have your journal with you during your session with Dr. Jacobs?" Viv asked softly.

Ash blinked and looked down at it like he'd forgotten he was holding it. His fingers tightened slightly around it, and he hesitated before answering. "Sometimes... it helps," he said quietly. "There's stuff I can't say out loud, not even to him. So I read from it instead. Makes it easier."

Viv stared at him, something tugging hard in his chest. The idea of putting thoughts, real, personal thoughts, on paper and then reading them aloud to someone else made him feel kind of sick. But for Ash, it seemed to be a lifeline.

"That's brave," Viv murmured.

Ash gave a small laugh. "Not really. I'm just... tired of bottling everything up. Doesn't work, believe me."

Viv stayed quiet, eyes drifting to the edge of the bed where their knees almost touched. He wasn't sure what scared him more—Ash's honesty, or the weird fluttering in his chest that wouldn't go away.

Viv let out a breath and stared down at his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers together. "I'm angry," he muttered finally, voice low and tight.

Ash glanced over. "At me?"

Viv shook his head quickly. "No. No, it's not you. It's Matteo. It's... everything."

Ash didn't say anything. He just waited.

Viv drew in a shaky breath. "He talks to Dr Jacobs behind my back.

Can you believe that shit? He said I'm not opening up in sessions.

Said I'm not getting better. That I need to talk more or I'll never get out of here.

" His voice cracked slightly on that last part, and he clenched his fists to hide the tremble.

"Like I don't already know that. Like I'm not already trying. "

Ash was quiet, watching him carefully, his expression unreadable but soft around the edges.

"I just..." Viv huffed and looked away. "I don't know what to talk about.

Everyone keeps saying I need to open up, but what the hell am I supposed to say?

That I wake up feeling nothing? That I look in the mirror and see someone I can't stand?

That sometimes I think maybe I belong here forever because I wouldn't know what to do outside of it? "

Ash's brow knit together, but he still didn't speak. He didn't interrupt. He didn't try to fix it. He just listened, and somehow that made it easier for Viv to keep going.

"I don't know where to start," Viv admitted, voice quieter now. "So I don't say anything. And then everyone thinks I'm being difficult on purpose, but I'm not. I'm just... stuck."

Ash finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "You just started. Right now."

Viv glanced at him, unsure.

"You're talking," Ash said gently. "You're saying all the stuff that matters. Maybe not in front of Dr. Jacobs yet, but you're doing it. And that counts."

Viv swallowed hard and nodded, his throat too tight to speak. The weight in his chest didn't lift completely, but with Ash there, their shoulder still pressed gently to his, it didn't feel quite so crushing.

Viv's heart was hammering now, loud in his ears.

He could hear it over everything. He could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck, crawling into his cheeks, but he didn't look away.

Couldn't. Not when Ash was staring at him like that—eyes wide, lips parted slightly, like he was afraid to move and break the moment.

"It's easy with you," Viv admitted shakily, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Ash's gaze softened. "Yeah?"

Viv gave a small, helpless nod. "I don't know why. It just feels like I can speak more easily. Like I don't have to... be all tough."

Ash nodded slowly, understanding without pressing. "I get it."

Viv let his eyes wander again, soaking in every inch of Ash's face like he might not get the chance again.

His heart lurched traitorously in his chest. Ash was so close—so stupidly close—and Viv's eyes betrayed him, drinking in every detail: the faint sprinkle of freckles across Ash's nose, the way his lashes curled, the way the corner of his lip tugged ever so slightly when he was nervous.

"You have a scar," Viv murmured.

Without thinking, he reached up, fingers trembling slightly, and brushed the pad of his thumb along the small, pale scar that curved just along Ash's jawline.

It was smooth but raised, like a ghost of something long past. Ash didn't move.

He didn't flinch or pull away. He just watched Viv with wide eyes, his breath caught in his throat.

Their eyes locked.

Time stopped.

Viv's fingers were still touching Ash's jaw, but it was more than that now—more than touch, more than curiosity. There was something charged between them, like the air had thickened, tightened, drawn taut around this fragile, invisible thread that tethered them together.

Viv's gaze fluttered downward before he could stop it, briefly catching on Ash's lips. And then back up to those green eyes that looked even brighter in the dim light of the room.

"You have really nice eyes," Viv whispered.

Ash blinked, his voice hoarse. "W... what are you doing?"

Viv swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"Viv..." Ash said his name like a warning, but it wasn't sharp. It was soft. Scared. Uncertain.

"I think..." Viv hesitated, pulse rattling in his ears. "I think I..."

Ash didn't interrupt. He waited, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as Viv searched for the courage to finish whatever it was he'd started.

Viv leaned in slowly, hesitantly, his breath caught somewhere between his ribs. Every nerve in his body felt stretched thin, like he was suspended in this moment that could shatter at any second. His eyes flicked to Ash's lips again, and the space between them disappeared inch by inch.

Well, until suddenly, Ash jerked upright.

It was so fast it startled Viv. One second Ash was sitting there, so close their knees had been brushing, and the next he was on his feet, unsteady and wide-eyed.

His arms were stiff at his sides, his hands clenched into anxious fists.

He took a step back toward the door like he needed distance, like he was trying to escape something.

Viv blinked, stunned, his breath faltering as whatever had been humming between them moments before dissolved into a heavy silence.

Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened it again and finally croaked, "I need to leave." He turned, hand already on the doorknob.

Viv shot to his feet like the floor had burned him.

"Wait, what? Why?" His voice came out more desperate than he meant it to, but he couldn't stop it.

That creeping, cold sense of rejection was already crawling up his spine, wrapping around his chest like vines.

He stared at Ash, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Did I... do something wrong?" he asked quietly.

Ash's hand tightened around the doorknob, his posture stiff and defensive, like he was trying to hold himself together by sheer force. His voice, when it came, was thin and fraying at the edges. "I can't," he said, the words trembling with uncertainty.

Viv stood there frozen, heart pounding, the air suddenly too thick in his lungs.

"What?" he croaked, stepping forward an inch.

"I mean... why? I wasn't gonna... I don't..." His voice faltered, trailing off into useless silence.

Every thought in his head tangled up, crashing against the walls of his skull.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, almost in a whisper.

Ash turned his head just enough to glance back at him. There was something hard in his eyes now, something guarded. "Exactly," he said. "You don't even know what you're doing."

"Maybe not, but..." Viv started, reaching forward instinctively like he could bridge the distance with words.

"But what?" Ash snapped, his voice suddenly sharp, the sound like a slap in the quiet room.

Viv's hands dropped. His shoulders curled inward, like he was trying to fold into himself. He felt small, so small it hurt.

"I'm not going to let somebody who can't even get my pronouns right kiss me," Ash said. His voice was cold but brittle, like a sheet of glass that could crack under pressure.

The words hit Viv like a punch to the chest. He sucked in a breath but it didn't feel like air.

Just pain. "That's not fair," he said in a small, cracked voice.

"I'm... I'm trying." His eyes stung as he stared at Ash, desperate for him to see it—that he was trying, every second, to do this right, to be better, to understand.

Even when he messed up. Especially then.

Viv stood there, the echo of Ash's words still rattling in his chest like a loose screw.

He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but everything felt tangled and tight inside his head.

The thing was—he was trying. More than he ever had with anyone.

But this... all of this... it was new. It was confusing. It was overwhelming.

Back home, where everything was sharp-edged and silent and expected, Viv had never met anyone like Ash.

Nobody who used they/them pronouns. Nobody who existed so softly and unapologetically outside the lines everyone else seemed desperate to colour inside.

Viv hadn't even really been exposed to queer people growing up, at least not openly.

Not in his neighborhood. Not in his school.

Not in his family. People didn't talk about that stuff.

And if they did, it was usually in hushed tones or with scrunched-up faces like it was something to be ashamed of.

His Italian family would never bring it up on purpose.

So no, he didn't have the language for it all. And maybe he didn't always get it right. But he was trying. He was trying because Ash mattered.

And that's what made this sting so much more—because Ash wasn't usually like this.

Ash was soft-spoken. Gentle. Kind in ways that snuck up on Viv when he least expected it.

They were patient when Viv fumbled, always offering a small smile or brushing it off with a shake of the head.

But now? Now Ash looked at him like he was dangerous.

Like he'd done something irreparable. And Viv didn't know how to fix it.

He didn't like this version of Ash—this cold, distant one. It felt like a punishment. Like a door slamming shut just when Viv had started to figure out how to knock.

Ash's voice cracked under the weight of frustration. "You're just confused, Viv. We're roommates, and we got too close, and now you're confusing kindness for feelings and—"

"No, that's not it," Viv cut in quickly, voice hoarse, almost trembling. "Don't do that. Don't downplay how I feel. I may suck at the whole talking-about-my-feelings thing, but I know what I want."

Ash crossed their arms tightly over their chest, shoulders wound with tension. "And what's that?"

Viv hesitated, his mouth dry. His heartbeat was a wild rhythm in his ears as he finally breathed out, "...You?"

Ash scoffed, bitter and disbelieving. "Give me a break, Viv. You can't even say that without sounding sure."

Viv took a step closer, feeling like his ribs were going to crack under the pressure. "Why are you being like this? You're acting like I should have it all figured out already. But I don't, Ash. I'm terrified, and you're making it worse."

Ash's eyes narrowed, pain flickering beneath their expression. "I'm making it worse? Well, excuse me for not wanting to be some straight guys experiment."

Viv froze. "What? Is that what you think this is?"

"Isn't it?" Ash snapped, their voice cracking at the edge.

Viv's breath caught like glass in his throat. "How can you think so low of me?"

Ash's mouth pulled into a tight, defensive line. "Because it wasn't that long ago you were asking me what I have under my pants. So if this is just you wanting to test your theory or try it on with the weird nonbinary kid, then back off."

Viv's face dropped. His voice came out low, furious, and shaking. "Ash, what the fuck? Are you even hearing yourself right now? Is that what you think this is? Is that the kind of person you take me for?"

"I don't know, Viv!" Ash shouted, their voice brittle. "Because I barely know you!"

"And I thought we were getting to know each other," Viv shot back, wounded.

Ash said nothing. The silence between them was loud, electric, agonising.

Viv scrubbed a hand down his face, voice splintering. "Look..." he exhaled hard. "I don't care about any of that stuff, alright? All that shit I asked—that was the dumb version of me. This me is telling you that I don't give a fuck, and I—"

"But it's still going to be in the back of your mind," Ash snapped, voice suddenly hard again.

"Will you stop projecting your fears onto me?" Viv growled.

"What?" Ash scoffed, eyes glassy.

"I'm literally standing here telling you that I don't give a fuck what you are, Ash. Plus, I kinda already know what you have because of what you told me about your dad, and I—"

"Please just stop," Ash said sharply, shaking their head, voice cracking again.

"Look, I don't care that you were born a dude and now you use different pronouns, okay? It doesn't matter to me," Viv blurted, desperate and frantic.

Ash flinched as if he'd slapped them. Their eyes shimmered with tears they didn't let fall, and their jaw locked as they whispered through gritted teeth, "Shut the fuck up."

And this time, Viv did. The room felt suffocating. Like everything good they'd been building had shattered into sharp pieces between them.

The silence that followed was thick, almost unbearable. The kind that screamed louder than any yelling ever could.

Viv stood frozen for a few more seconds before quietly moving back to his bed, limbs heavy like he was dragging weights behind him.

He sat down slowly, shoulders hunched, hands clasped between his knees, his head bowed low.

His heart pounded with guilt and shame. His throat ached from trying to swallow it down.

He felt like shit. Like the worst kind of person. The kind who said the wrong things, who made things worse, who ruined everything just when it was starting to mean something.

Ash hadn't moved. They still stood by the door, arms wrapped tightly around their chest, like they were holding themselves together. Their jaw was clenched, their expression unreadable now, wiped clean of anger, but not of hurt.

Viv didn't look up. He couldn't.

After a long moment, Ash finally spoke, their voice low and quiet but edged with steel. "Just... stay out of my way."

Viv barely had time to react before the door clicked open, then shut softly behind them.

And then he was alone. The room was painfully quiet.

The only sound was the blood rushing in his ears and the soft creak of the mattress beneath him as he curled in on himself, chest tight with regret.

He wanted to scream. Instead, he just sat there. Still. Small. Alone.