Chapter 17 Taking it slow
It had been two whole days since Viv learned the truth. Or whatever version of it he was supposed to believe.
Two whole days since Dr. Jacobs sat him down in that tiny, windowless room and told him Matteo was dead.
Since he said the voices and conversations and memories weren't real the way Viv thought they were.
Since he said schizophrenia like it was something Viv should've seen coming, like it was just another word he had to accept about himself now.
Since then, Viv hadn't moved much.
He hadn't been made to go to the dinner hall or dragged into group therapy. He was too "fragile" apparently, or "processing." They used soft words like that, the kind people used when they didn't want to say someone had fallen apart.
Most of the time, he was lying curled up in bed.
When he wasn't sleeping, he was staring at the wall, the ceiling, the vague shape of light that moved across the floor whenever someone opened the door.
He was in and out of that heavy, empty kind of sleep where time doesn't really exist. Just blinks.
Just the quiet hum of air vents and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Nurse Carla was the only person who really came in. She didn't say much anymore though. Maybe she figured he wouldn't answer. And she was right.
Three times a day, she brought a tray of food and set it down on the little table beside his bed. She always added a gentle reminder to eat, like "Just try a little, sweetheart," and watched him take his meds. Those weren't optional.
Viv always ate the fruit. Nothing else. Everything else sat there and wilted until she came back with the next tray.
Ash was still there too, of course. They were like furniture. Quiet, still, cautious. They'd move around the room gently, quietly, like if they made too much noise Viv might break again.
And when their eyes met occasionally, Ash's green eyes were always wide, filled with something Viv couldn't quite handle. Sympathy, maybe. Or guilt. Or just sadness for someone who didn't know who they were anymore.
Viv never spoke. Not to Carla. Not to Dr. Jacobs when he popped in. Not to Ash. The words didn't feel real in his throat anymore. Like speaking would mean accepting it. Saying anything would make it all too real.
So he stayed quiet.
Staring at the ceiling. Listening to the silence. Waiting for something—anything— to make sense again.
On the third day, things weren't really different.
Nurse Carla came in at the usual time, holding the plastic tray and that same careful expression.
She set the food down on the bedside table and handed Viv his meds in their little white cup.
She watched as she stood there by the bed with her arms folded and her brow creased slightly, like she was trying to figure out what he was thinking.
Viv didn't say anything, of course. He just took the cup, tossed the pills to the back of his throat, and drank from the little carton of juice she always brought with them.
It was automatic now. Like brushing your teeth or tying your shoes.
It was just something you did, even if you didn't feel like a person.
Carla gave a soft nod. "Good," she said, and that was all before she turned and left the room, the door clicking quietly shut behind her.
A few minutes passed. Then the bed dipped slightly, and Viv didn't have to look to know who it was.
Ash.
They sat there on the edge of the mattress like they weren't sure if they were allowed to. Viv could feel the way they were trying not to take up too much space, like if they pushed too far he'd shatter completely.
He didn't move. He just kept his eyes on the wall.
Ash leaned forward slightly and pulled the tray a little closer. There was a bowl of soup today. The watery kind with soft vegetables and bits of rice that never looked appealing. Ash picked up the spoon and stirred it slowly, like the movement might make Viv pay attention.
"You need to eat," Ash said gently. Their voice was soft and unsure, like maybe they weren't even expecting a response.
Viv didn't give one.
Ash waited a few seconds longer before reaching out to touch his shoulder. Just the lightest touch. "Can you sit up for me? Just a little?"
Nothing.
Viv didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even flinch.
Ash let out a quiet breath and gently placed the spoon back into the bowl. Then they leaned down closer, trying again. "Let me help you. Just one spoonful, okay?"
Viv didn't respond. Instead, he curled deeper into himself, pulling the blanket higher, turning slightly toward the wall like a kid hiding from a nightmare.
Ash sat there frozen for a moment, their hand still hovering in the space Viv left behind.
Then, slowly, it fell to their lap like a heavy weight.
They didn't say anything right away. Just stared down at the steam slowly curling off the bowl of soup, the room quiet except for the low hum of the air vent above them.
"Viv, you haven't eaten in days," Ash said, their voice tight with concern, barely louder than a whisper.
Viv stayed still, eyes glazed over, lost somewhere deep inside himself.
"Please? Come on, just a little. I swear, just a little," Ash begged, their voice cracking at the edges. They shifted forward slightly, reaching out again, this time with more determination.
When Viv didn't protest, didn't flinch or pull away, Ash took it as permission.
With slow, careful hands, they slid the blanket down and helped Viv sit upright.
He moved like he wasn't really there, letting Ash guide his shoulders until his back rested against the wall.
His head lolled slightly to the side, his arms limp at his sides.
Ash picked up the spoon again and stirred the soup. "Here," they murmured. "It's not much, but it's warm."
They brought the first spoonful to Viv's mouth, and to their quiet relief, he opened it and swallowed.
"Good," Ash breathed out, almost like they'd been holding their own breath this entire time.
Viv didn't respond. His eyes were distant, glassy. He wasn't looking at Ash. He wasn't looking at anything.
They sat like that for a while, Ash feeding him in slow, quiet motions. A spoonful of soup, a small piece of bread dipped in broth, another sip of juice. Viv chewed and swallowed, but his expression never changed. He looked like a zombie, empty and far away.
Ash hesitated before speaking again, glancing sideways at him. "I know I shouldn't pry, but... I needed to know what happened. So I kinda bribed Carla into telling me," they admitted softly, almost sheepishly.
Still, Viv said nothing.
Ash swallowed. "I'm sorry about your brother."
At that, Viv blinked. His gaze finally shifted and landed directly on Ash, sharp and sudden like a crack in the ice. Ash stiffened slightly. The eye contact made them nervous, like they'd just stepped somewhere they weren't supposed to.
Viv's voice was hoarse and rough, like it had been dragged through sand. He cleared his throat and pushed the words out anyway. "Did you see him?"
Ash blinked, confused. "What?"
"Matteo," Viv said, a little louder this time. "You saw him. I know you saw him. Here. In this room. He was with me."
Ash looked away, guilt spreading across their face like a shadow.
"You spoke to him, Ash," Viv said, voice cracking. "I know you did."
Ash slowly shook their head, eyes heavy with regret. "I'm sorry, Viv... I didn't."
Viv recoiled like he'd been hit. "What?" The word was barely audible.
Ash exhaled shakily. "I saw you. Just you."
"But..." Viv blinked rapidly. "We talked about your journal. You saw him. You had to."
Ash's voice was low, but steady. "In the rec room... it was just you, Viv. In this room, it was just you. You were sat on your bed, staring at mine."
Viv's face twisted, confused and hurt and desperate. "But I introduced you to him. I know I did."
Ash nodded slowly, sadly. "I remember. I just... I didn't wanna say anything. I was scared you'd freak out on me. I didn't wanna make it worse. I talked to Dr. Jacobs about it, and he told me to go along with it. That it might help you if... if you didn't feel alone."
"Help me?" Viv repeated, voice trembling.
Ash looked down at their hands. "I'm sorry, Viv, but... there was never anybody with you. You never had any visitors. That's why I was always so confused."
Viv sat there, slumped against the wall like he was made of wet paper, the blanket pooling around his waist. His eyes were wide but unfocused, blinking like he was trying to force himself awake from a dream he didn't want to be in anymore.
He didn't say anything for a while. He didn't cry or scream or throw the bowl of soup. He just... sat. Letting the silence press in around him, thick and suffocating. The truth was sinking in like a cold stone in his stomach, slow and heavy and impossible to ignore.
He wasn't angry at Ash. If anything, he was grateful they hadn't lied just now. But the ache inside him was spreading fast, crawling through his ribs, curling into his throat.
"I'm so stupid," he muttered, barely audible. His voice cracked right down the middle. "God, I'm so fucking stupid."
Ash's eyes softened. "Viv—"
"I made him up," Viv interrupted, shaking his head. "I made up the one person I thought gave a shit about me."
Ash opened their mouth, but nothing came out. There wasn't anything they could say to make that hurt less.
Viv pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I talked to him. I— I laughed with him. I felt him sitting next to me." His voice trembled. "I can still hear his voice. I hear it. What the hell is wrong with me?"
Ash reached out carefully, gently placing a hand on Viv's knee. "There's nothing wrong with you," they said quietly. "You're sick, Viv. And I mean that in the medical way. Not the 'something's-broken-inside-you' way. People can heal from this."
"He felt real," Viv whispered. "Matteo... he felt more real than anything else in my life."
"I know," Ash said softly. "I know he did."
And then Viv turned his head, just slightly, like he was trying to find something in Ash's face. Maybe some kind of answer. Some kind of reason. "How do I deal with this?" he asked. "How am I supposed to deal with knowing he's gone, but still waking up thinking he's here?"
Ash didn't have an answer for that specific question, so instead, they shifted the tone of their voice to a more softening one. "You have people here that can help you. That want to help you. And I don't just mean the staff."
Viv looked over at Ash with narrowed, skeptical eyes. His voice came out dull. "You hate me."
Ash's head snapped up. "What? No, I don't."
"You've been ignoring me for days," Viv said, flat and tired.
Ash's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked like someone had just turned a flashlight on him in the dark. "I... I..."
Viv cut him off with a tired shrug. "It's okay. I get it."
"No, you don't."
"I do. And it's okay."
"No, Viv." Ash's voice rose a little, not angry, just firm. Their brows were furrowed. "You don't understand. I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have been ignoring you."
Viv's eyes dropped to the edge of the blanket gathered in his lap. "Is this why you did?"
Ash blinked. "What?"
"Is this why you..." Viv hesitated, and his voice dipped lower, more fragile. "Why you didn't want to kiss me? Because I have... because I'm crazy?" He didn't want to say the word schizophrenia because that would just make it real.
Ash's breath hitched. Their whole posture straightened with urgency. "Are you kidding me? No. Absolutely not. I would never do that."
Viv didn't say anything, but his lips pressed into a flat line, like he wasn't convinced.
"Viv, I'm serious," Ash said firmly. "That's not why."
"Then why?" Viv asked softly.
Ash looked cornered for a second, like they weren't sure if they should run or confess. "I... I just..." They exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through their hair. "I know this is gonna sound cliché, but it's not you. It's me."
Viv scoffed. "You're right. It does sound cliché. That's just what people say when they wanna reject you because you're ugly."
"Okay first of all," Ash said quickly, leaning forward a bit, "you're not ugly. You're definitely not ugly. You're like... pretty perfect, actually."
Viv blinked. "Oh."
Ash flushed. "Second... it really is me.
I told you what happened to me when I was a kid.
That stuff... it messed me up, alright? I swear, me not kissing you had nothing to do with you or the fact that you're in a mental hospital.
I mean, it'd be pretty hypocritical of me to reject you for having bad mental health, right? Have you seen me?"
Viv looked at him, quiet for a beat, then said sincerely, "I think you're perfectly fine."
Ash let out a short, shaky laugh and looked away, pink creeping into their cheeks. "I wish."
"So you didn't kiss me because you were, what... traumatised?"
Ash made a face. "I wouldn't say traumatised."
"Then what?"
"Just..." Ash shrugged slightly, their voice lowering. "Hesitant. Scared."
Viv tilted his head. "Of me?"
Ash's eyes flickered to his. "No. Of..." They sighed, the kind of sigh that deflated everything. "Kissing means you like somebody. Liking somebody means you trust them. I struggle with that. I struggle with a lot. Touching becomes... more. And I... I don't think I..."
Viv straightened a little. "I don't have to touch you if you don't want me to."
Ash looked at him, really looked, like they were trying to read him again from scratch. Their eyes lingered on his face, their lashes fluttering just slightly. "Yeah?"
Viv nodded firmly. "I won't try and kiss you again either."
Ash's cheeks turned pink. "Oh?"
Viv narrowed his eyes playfully, voice dry. "Why do you sound disappointed?"
Ash bit their bottom lip and glanced away, a soft, crooked smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. "I don't know. Maybe I am."
"I thought you said—"
"I'm starting to trust you," Ash interrupted, eyes meeting his again, a little more certain now. "Maybe not all the way. But hell... I've fallen asleep in your bed more than once. Surely that means I'm starting to trust you, right?"
Viv let a small, broken laugh escape, like he wasn't sure if he should be amused or on the verge of crying. His eyes drifted to the wall across the room, that dull beige surface he'd memorised from too many hours of staring into it, hoping it would offer him some kind of answer.
Schizophrenia. That word had clung to him ever since Dr. Jacobs said it out loud.
It didn't sound like him. It sounded like something in a textbook.
Like something broken. Something not normal.
He didn't feel crazy. He felt... lost. Hollow.
Like someone had dug out his insides and left the skin behind to keep up appearances.
And now, he didn't know what he was supposed to do.
What if he never saw Matteo again? What if the meds erased him completely?
The idea made his chest ache. Matteo had been there, real as anything.
He remembered the sound of his laugh, the way he sat on the bed while they talked about stupid shit.
That wasn't fake. That couldn't be fake.
But it was, wasn't it?
Still, a small part of him—stubborn and aching—wondered if maybe taking the pills was a mistake. Maybe if he stopped, Matteo would come back. Just one more time. Just long enough to tell Viv it was okay. That he wasn't alone. That none of this was his fault.
But another part of him, the tired part that hadn't spoken in days and had forgotten how to be a person, didn't know if he could take that risk. What if it wasn't real? What if stopping his meds made things worse? What if it wasn't just Matteo he started seeing?
Viv didn't know what to do anymore