The Darkness Consumes

Chapter 27 Visiting hours

Viv lay on his side, eyes open long before the lights buzzed to life or the soft knock came at the door. The morning felt wrong. Off. The room echoed with a stillness that used to be filled by soft breathing and sleepy mumbling, rustling sheets and warm limbs pressed into his side.

The bed next to him was empty.

He stared at it like if he just kept looking, maybe Ash would reappear. Like maybe this was some dumb exercise in detachment and Ash would walk in with a cheeky grin and say, "Kidding. I'm back. Couldn't stay away."

But the sheets were pulled tight and tucked hospital-perfect. That bed hadn't been touched all night.

There was no one breathing beside him. No one to whisper stupid late-night thoughts to. No warm hand to hold beneath the covers.

Just Viv. Alone. Again.

The door opened with a soft creak. Nurse Carla stepped in, clipboard in hand, her usual chipper tone dampened by the mood hanging in the room.

"Rise and shine. Time for breakfast."

Viv didn't move. He stared at the ceiling like maybe it had answers, like maybe it could tell him what the hell he was supposed to do now. His voice came out muffled, heavy.

"Can you just leave me alone today? Please?" he mumbled. "Just... give me one morning to wallow in my own self-pity."

Carla clicked her tongue, shifting her weight. "No can do, Viv."

He groaned and pulled the blanket tighter over his chest, like maybe it could act as armor.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered.

"Doesn't matter," Carla replied, unfazed. "You're not here to skip meals and play ghost. I know you're hurting, but Ash leaving doesn't mean you get to vanish again too."

Viv clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

Carla moved closer and softened her voice. "I'm not saying you have to talk. I'm not saying you have to smile. Just come eat, yeah? You don't have to do anything else."

Viv didn't answer, but after a beat, he sighed, and kicked off the covers. His limbs felt too heavy. His chest even heavier. But he stood up because Ash would've wanted him to.

Eventually, Viv shuffled into the cafeteria with his hands buried deep in the sleeves of his hoodie, his head ducked low. The room was bright and buzzing with early-morning clatter, but it felt muted in his ears. Distant. Unreachable.

There was no Ash waiting for him with a half-smile and a dumb inside joke. No one pulling out a chair and nudging his tray closer. Just rows of plastic chairs and familiar faces he didn't know well enough to sit beside.

He sat awkwardly on the table until Nurse Steve thrust a tray into his hands without so much as eye contact.

"Don't dawdle," Steve muttered, like Viv was deliberately trying to annoy him just by existing.

Viv didn't bother replying. He just sat there, tray untouched, picking at the dry toast without really tasting it.

He missed Ash's stupid comments about hospital eggs and the way they used to steal bites off each other's plates. He missed having someone who understood him even when he didn't speak. Now it was just silence again. Him and the sound of his own thoughts echoing too loud.

When breakfast was over, he dumped his barely eaten tray and followed the stream of patients down the hall. Group therapy was next. A circle of chairs, a box of tissues in the center, and eyes that always felt like they were staring too much or not at all.

Viv found a seat on the edge. No Ash to save him a spot. No whispered sarcasm before it began. Just the sound of folding chairs creaking and the heavy sigh of another day starting without the one person who made it bearable.

Viv slouched low in his seat, arms crossed tight over his chest, hoodie pulled up like it could somehow make him invisible. The group room smelled faintly of disinfectant and cheap air freshener, and the plastic chair beneath him squeaked every time he shifted.

Nurse Julia stood near the whiteboard, smiling in that way she always did, soft but determined. She let her eyes sweep over the group once, and then, without warning, locked directly onto him.

"Viv," she said gently, but firmly. "How are you feeling today?"

He didn't even look up. "Pass."

"We're not doing passes today."

He dragged his eyes to her, slow and unimpressed. "Then I don't know."

"You sure about that?"

Viv sighed. "Yeah. I'm sure."

But Julia stepped forward, clasping her hands in front of her. "Viv, I know your usual thing is pretending not to care, but I think today's a little different."

He hated how her voice was so calm. Like she was trying to walk him toward something she already knew he didn't want to face.

"I'm fine," he said through his teeth. "I woke up. I'm sitting in this chair. Isn't that enough?"

Julia's expression didn't waver. "You've had a rough few days. Your roommate is gone, and that kind of shift can hit harder than people expect."

Viv's jaw clenched. His eyes flicked around the circle. Some people were watching, others were pointedly not. "I said I'm fine," he repeated, voice sharper now. "Can we move on?"

But Julia didn't flinch. "I don't think you're fine. I think you're hurt. And lonely. And maybe a little angry."

That last word did something. He felt his face twitch, like she'd stuck her finger on a bruise. "I'm not angry," he muttered.

"You're allowed to be," she said. "You're allowed to feel all of it."

Viv stared at her, something twisting uncomfortably in his stomach. For a second he wanted to yell. Or walk out. Or punch something just to stop feeling like his chest was too full of whatever this was.

But he didn't. He just exhaled slowly and turned his head away.

Julia let the silence hang for a moment, then said, "Thank you for showing up today, Viv. That's more than enough for now."

He didn't answer. But he didn't leave, either.

~

Dr. Jacobs's office was quiet except for the ticking clock on the wall and the soft buzz of the air conditioning. Viv sat on the chair, his knees drawn up close to his chest, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands.

Dr. Jacobs sat across from him with his usual calm expression and a mug of lukewarm coffee in his hands. "You've been doing well in group lately," he said. "Even when Julia pushes you a bit."

Viv gave a noncommittal shrug. "It's just talking."

"Sometimes that's the hardest part," Dr. Jacobs said gently.

Viv stared at the floor for a long moment, picking at the loose thread on his cuff. "I've been thinking about Matteo a lot lately."

Dr. Jacobs nodded slowly. "You haven't mentioned him in a while."

"I know." Viv swallowed hard. "I miss him. Even if he's not, ya know, real. I want to see him again I guess."

There was a pause. Not judgmental. Just quiet.

"I know the meds are helping," Viv went on. "I don't see things crawling on the walls anymore. I don't wake up in fog every day. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss him. Matteo made things feel less awful."

Dr. Jacobs leaned forward slightly. "Less lonely?"

Viv looked up, his eyes hollow but honest. "Yeah."

"I think it's very human to miss the things that made us feel safe, even if they weren't real in the traditional sense," Dr. Jacobs said. "He was real once. You shared a bond. You loved him. Then you recreated him for a reason. He served a purpose."

Viv nodded, almost absentmindedly. "But now he's gone."

Dr. Jacobs studied him. "What do you think Matteo would say if he were here right now?"

Viv gave a sad half-smile. "Probably something smug and stupid. Like, 'You're still alive, fratello, don't be so dramatic.'"

"That sounds about right," Dr. Jacobs said, smiling faintly. "You know, just because you don't see him the same way doesn't mean he's gone. He's part of you, Viv. He always was."

Viv blinked, then looked away. "It's not the same."

"No, it's not. But that doesn't mean you're alone. Just because he's gone, doesn't mean you need to sit in silence. There's other people who can help."

For once, Viv didn't argue with him. He just let the silence hold for a moment, like he always did when he had something difficult to say.

Viv suddenly shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his eyes fixed on the scuffed floor tiles. "There's something else," he muttered, his voice low.

Dr. Jacobs gave a small nod, encouraging. "Go on."

Viv picked at the edge of his sleeve again. "It's about Ash."

"Ah, your partner," Dr. Jacob's said.

Viv's cheeks reddened. "Yeah, well, the thing is, I still.

.. mess up sometimes. In my head, mostly.

Calling them 'he' without meaning to. And I know I shouldn't.

I know it's not okay. But it's like my brain just..

. does it. And I'm scared that one day I'll say it out loud and they'll get hurt. Or pissed off. Or both."

He stopped to breathe, like it had taken too much out of him to admit even that.

"I don't want to be that person," Viv said. "I don't want to be the reason they feel like shit."

Dr. Jacobs didn't look disappointed. He didn't even look surprised. Just calm and thoughtful, like he was weighing each word before he spoke.

"I'm really glad you said that," he said finally. "It means you care. And that matters a lot more than getting it right every single time."

Viv's brow furrowed. "But what if I say it wrong and mess everything up?"

"You might," Dr. Jacobs said plainly. "We all get things wrong sometimes, even when we mean well. But the fact that you're aware of it and that you're trying... that's a big deal. And if Ash really cares about you, and from what I've seen, they do, they'll see that effort."

Viv didn't reply, but his shoulders relaxed just a little.

"Have you talked to Ash about this?"

Viv shook his head. "No. I don't want them to think I'm some transphobic dick who doesn't respect them."

"They won't," Dr. Jacobs said gently. "Especially if you're honest. You can say, 'I'm trying, and I care about you, and I'm going to keep doing better.' That's what people want to hear. Not perfection. Just honesty and effort."

Viv pressed his lips together and nodded once, slowly. "Okay."

Dr. Jacobs offered a small smile. "You're not a bad person, Viv. You're just learning. That's allowed."

Viv let the words settle for a while. He still felt shitty about it, but maybe not as alone. Maybe not as doomed to fail.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Dr. Jacobs said, and reached for his notepad again. "Now, tell me what you actually thought of the group therapy movie yesterday."

Viv huffed a small laugh. "God, it was trash."

~

A few more days bled into the same tired rhythm. Breakfast. Meds. Group therapy. Lunch. One-to-one. Dinner. More meds. Rec time. Sleep. Repeat.

Viv found himself moving through it all like he was half-there, like his body remembered the routine even when his mind didn't want to.

There were still no more late-night whispers in the dark.

Still no familiar weight pressed up against his side.

Just the cold space of an empty bed and a silence that dragged like cement in his chest.

But strangely, something was shifting.

He didn't notice it right away, not until Nurse Julia asked a question in group and, for once, Viv actually answered.

It wasn't even that deep, just some throwaway comment about how the meds made him feel foggy in the mornings, but it was enough to earn him a few surprised glances.

Enough for Nurse Julia to say, "Thank you, Viv," with that gentle nod that made him squirm a bit.

He didn't usually talk in group. Not really. Not unless someone cornered him into it. But without Ash sitting beside him, giving him those subtle, grounding glances, he didn't feel like he had to keep it together. He didn't feel like he had to play cool or strong or like he had all the answers.

Ash wasn't here to witness him unravel, so maybe it was finally okay to let himself do it.

He still didn't say much. But every now and then, he found himself admitting little things.

That he hated the sound of the overhead lights.

That he felt like his thoughts weren't always his own.

That he missed someone he hadn't known all that long.

And no one laughed. No one called him dramatic.

They just listened. Maybe that was the strangest part.

Maybe the ugliest parts of him weren't so unbearable after all. Not as much as he thought anyway.

Viv was sitting in the art room alone when something strange happened.

He was lazily pushing a brush around a page that was more grey than anything else.

The rec room was too noisy today, and he'd told Nurse Carla he needed something quieter.

She'd surprisingly agreed. Maybe she thought he was making progress.

He hoped he was.

He'd spent the last thirty minutes smearing colourless clouds across the paper, too restless to focus and too tired to care. Then the door creaked open, and he didn't look up at first. Probably a nurse coming to check he hadn't drowned in paint water.

But then a voice spoke. Soft. Careful.

"Viviano?"

The brush slipped from his fingers.

He hadn't heard that voice in weeks. Not since he escaped this dreaded place.

His head snapped up, and there she was, his mother, standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching her handbag like it might shield her from something. She looked smaller than he remembered. Her makeup wasn't as perfect. There were faint shadows under her eyes.

"Ma?" he said, the word like gravel in his throat.

She gave a tentative smile.

For a second, he just stared at her, heart hammering. He wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or cry or run out of the room altogether. A thousand feelings slammed into him all at once—guilt, anger, confusion, a weird ache he couldn't name.

"What... what are you doing here?"

She took a careful step forward. "They called. Said I could come visit. That maybe it'd help."

Viv blinked. "You didn't visit when I first got here."

"I know," she said, guilt written plain across her face. "I wasn't ready. I was scared. I still am."

Viv laughed. It came out broken. "I was the one who got locked up. What were you scared of?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

He shook his head, looking away.

"I understand if you're angry at me," she said quietly. "I'll go if you want me to. I just... I wanted you to know I'm here now. I've realised my mistakes and I...I miss you."

And for a moment, all Viv could do was stare at his ruined painting which was just a cloudy mess, no colour, no shape. His hands were shaking, but he wasn't sure why.

His mother moved slowly, like she thought she might spook him. She crossed the room and took the chair across from him, smoothing her skirt as she sat. Viv kept his eyes on the page, his hand picking up the brush again like muscle memory. He didn't say anything.

She didn't either. Not for a while.

He could feel her eyes on him. Watching him work like he was some strange animal she hadn't seen in a long time.

Viv dipped the brush into the grey, let it drip onto the paper.

He wanted to tell her to stop staring. He wanted to throw the brush across the room and scream at her for only showing up now. But he didn't. He just painted.

"I loved this," she said softly.

Viv's hand stilled.

"When you were little. You used to paint for hours. I still have those pictures you drew of the ocean, remember? You said the waves looked cold and sad, but you liked them that way."

He didn't respond. His face stayed blank, but the brush pressed too hard against the page, the bristles bending violently. His fingers tensed.

"You were always so creative," she said, her voice thinner now. "It was my favourite thing about you."

Viv slowly looked up. His eyes were cold. "You don't know anything about me."

She blinked. "Viviano..."

"Don't call me that."

She flinched.

He dropped the brush onto the table, the sound too loud in the quiet room. "You gave up on me the second things got hard. Don't come in here and act like you care about a dumb fucking ocean painting. I mean nothing to you, and you mean nothing to me. That's all it ever will be."

She opened her mouth, but whatever excuse or apology she had died on her lips.

He stared at her for another long second, then stood up, chair legs scraping sharply against the floor. "You don't get to watch me like you've been here the whole time. I never wanna see you again."

And with that, he left the art room, leaving the brush, the painting, and her behind.

He stormed down the hallway like something was chasing him. His chest burned and his hands were still stained with paint, but he didn't care. He just wanted his room. His bed. Silence.

But as he rounded the last corner, Nurse Josh stepped directly into his path.

"Oh! Hey, Viv—"

"I didn't want any visitors!" Viv snapped before Josh could even finish his sentence. His voice cracked like a whip in the corridor, raw and way too loud. "I don't want any visitors again, okay? Ever!"

Josh blinked, caught off guard. "Okay... what?"

Viv pushed past him, fists clenched, paint-streaked fingers twitching. "You should've asked me first. I didn't say I wanted to see her and—"

Josh grabbed his arm, not roughly, just enough to make Viv stop. "Viv, what are you talking about?"

Viv yanked his arm back, practically vibrating with adrenaline. "You guys should have asked me first! I would have said no! I don't want any visitors!"

Josh's eyebrows pulled together. "Viv... it's not visiting hours. No one's been in to see you today."

That stopped him.

Viv's mouth opened, then closed. His heart was still pounding. "What?"

"I swear," Josh said slowly, cautiously now. "It's been quiet all morning. No visitors. Are you sure you—"

Viv stepped back, suddenly cold. The corridor around him seemed to tilt slightly. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, gripping hard at the roots. His voice came out flat. "Sorry."

Josh tilted his head, concern beginning to show. "Hey, are you okay? You want me to grab Dr. Jacobs—"

"No." Viv's response was quick, too quick, and louder than it needed to be. He took a shaky breath and tried to force himself back into neutral. "No. I'm fine. Just tired. I didn't sleep much."

Josh didn't look convinced.

Viv forced a shrug, then gestured vaguely behind him. "Maybe I just... got too into my painting. Drifted off. Dreamt it."

"Right," Josh said, voice still wary. "Well... just let someone know if you start feeling weird again, okay?"

"Sure."

Viv turned around and walked the rest of the way to his room, this time slower. He closed the door gently and then sat on his bed, heart hammering in his chest, and tried to ignore the ache in his chest that felt a hell of a lot like fear.

Viv's whole body felt like it was buzzing, like static was crawling underneath his skin. He kept replaying the conversation with Josh over and over in his head, picking it apart for signs. Fuck, did he sound crazy? Did he sound like someone who was slipping?

Because if Josh told Dr. Jacobs...

Then that was it. Another tick in the wrong box. Another reason to stay locked inside this place with the white walls and the screaming silence and the stupid rec room movies. Another reason for them to say 'you're not ready yet, Viviano.'

And he was ready. Or at least, he had to be.

He couldn't afford to slip backward now, not when Ash was out there. Not when Ash had promised to wait. To call. To still want him once Viv got out.

Viv gritted his teeth and rocked forward and backwards slightly, pressing his palms hard into his eyes like he could squash the memory of the woman who looked like his mother, smelled like old perfume and sweet tea, and had sat there like she was real.

It wasn't real. He knew that now. Fucking hell, she was speaking English for christ sakes. That should have been the dead give away. But knowing she wasn't real didn't make it any less terrifying because she seemed real. So so real.

He just had to keep it together. That was all.

Stay calm. Go to therapy. Keep eating. Keep smiling in group.

Don't mention hallucinations. Because if he wanted any chance at being with Ash again, then he needed to get the hell out of here.

And nobody needed to know he'd slipped. Not even Dr. Jacobs.