Getting Better

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"Oof," he replied quietly in an attempt to try and seem calm, though it'll he couldn't stop himself from nervously glancing at Colby, his eyes scanning the other's face. Grabbing onto his pillow, he stayed behind the self titled 'expert' once turning his attention back to the door.

"You're not serious, right?" He whispered, his cheeks still reddening more and more in fear. Nibbling the corner of the pillow anxiously, he sniffles a tad. "You'd break a wall? That's... not good. I'll make sure you don't do that, right?"
 
"Hm? Oh, nah, don't worry. I'm not violent. When I'm high, I do stupid stuff, but even then I'm violent towards myself more than to anyone else, don't worry about it. Like... god, don't be fucking scared of me, I'm really not some horrid guy who's gonna suffocate you in your sleep or whatever. I have problems but I'm not... violent to other people that often. My ex is... an exception, but it was an accident and I was off my face and-- I regret telling you that now. See, this is why being honest doesn't work out for me. My skeletons are best kept locked up in the closet," continued Colby quietly, though, despite the wide grin on his face, he had been struck by complete regret, which in turn didn't do much for his sense of self. He hated himself a lot these days, and the fact he'd already succeeded in freaking out someone he'd assumed would become a good friend hardly helped boost his confidence much. He usually dealt with these feelings by grabbing some heroin, and without that, he didn't quite know how to handle the self-loathing he was hit with.

"I, uh... what am I even going to hurt you with? Let's be real. I can't stand straight without fidgeting, so sure, I could throw a punch, but I'd probably fall before I hit you," he pointed out, continuing to smile in the hope he seemed cheerful enough on the outside to fool him. "Seriously, chill. Let's just-- Let's go for a walk, you can check the place out properly."
 
His own guilt set in once noticing the other's unsubtle upset. He almost immediately panicked, his own arms lightly shaking as he trailed behind, though that anxiety was soon diverted by the sounds of other patients. He didn't really know what to expect but the whole thing was more than just outside of his comfort zone. It just reinforced his wish to have been less of an idiot and 'do the job right'. Instead, he was forced to deal with strange nurses eyeing him cautiously.

"I didn't think you'd hurt me," he eventually replied once away from the sounds of hard sobbing coming from a room. "I just - I never really understood the whole thing with drug addiction, I guess. This experience will help me understand that more, right? There isn't much to learn about me, though, except to remember to lock the door before you decide to kill yourself," he teased meekly. From what he could tell, it seemed that Colby was a fan of dark humor. Wasn't that dark enough? Or was it too dark? He offered a smile nonetheless.
 
Joking about death was hardly the sort of thing that would cheer most people up, but Colby's humour had always been decidedly dark. There were some things he understandably wouldn't find funny, but if he couldn't laugh at himself and the situation he had gotten himself into, then all hope was lost. The fact Jake seemed to joke about his own state did lift Colby from the brief moment of depression, grinning quietly to himself the more he thought about what was said.

"Mm, will do. And if you wanna help a guy out sometime, you could sneak me a bottle of glue when you go and do some arts and crafts? I'm not allowed to use glue, obviously. Be a bit idiotic of them to give it to a drug addict. Mind you, I think they should use the non-toxic kind they give to kids in nursery, but they don't listen to my suggestions," he shrugged, silently offering a wave to some nearby familiar faces, which, as nice as it was to see them, did shock him a little. They had been here when he was first admitted, and they were still here now, almost five years on. For all he knew, he could be like them; institutionalised for years without chance of being allowed out because they were dangers to themselves.

"...I'm kidding, you know. About the glue. You don't need to sneak me anything," he pointed out, flopping into a chair beside the window, with a nice view of the River Thames just outside. "Kinda detrimental for me to get high when this place is trying to help me out."
 
"Oh, I thought the whole 'sniffing glue' thing was just a weird joke?" He admitted as he took a seat, his own eyes landing to take in the water below. After a moment of silence, he had to blink hard to block the thoughts of his dates with Chris along it. He looked forward, taking in Colby's frame, before carefully setting the pillow down to sit on.

"I guess I've never really thought about that. The most devious thing I've rver done is get a bit too tipsy at a party, or smoke a cigarette once in school. I'm... boring." He insisted after a moment of contemplation. "That's okay, though, right?"
 
"And taking drugs is cool? It ain't cool. I'd do anything to, like, be like you randomly dabble with cigarettes at parties. Last party I went to, I almost choked on my own vomit," he pointed out casually, propping his feet up on the table and, after casting another glance around the room at the few patients he recognised (and some he didn't), he focused his attention back on the other opposite. He had been terrified when he was first admitted, and he wasn't heartless to the fact Jake had lost his husband.

"My mother will be visiting me later on, I imagine, so if I could introduce you as my friend, it'll stop her worrying so much about me. She's overbearing and overprotective, but she means well and she'll at least lay off me if she knew I'd made a friend in here who wasn't a nurse or doctor, y'know?"
 
"Oh, sure. Yeah! I think I can do that. Although, she'll probably be a bit disappointed in me, huh? You're supposed to surround yourself with people who will help you improve and I don't think I'll be improving much of your life," he replied as he looked down at the puzzle, his brows furrowing at the puzzle set. He had done a few for his mother to frame above their fireplace but he absolutely hated every moment of it. Sure, it wasn't a 1000 piece puzzle but what with the headache from crying for so long and the weariness of it all, he knew he couldn't focus on it.

"I may not b good at much, but I'm very good at getting parents to like me," he admitted as he tried to hide his growing smile. "I've been told I match that 'sweet Catholic boy' aesthetic, after all. I mean, I've been raised to act a certain way in front of them so I'll be fine."
 
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"My mother will like anyone who isn't helping to fuel my addiction. She'll love you. You're cute and soft-spoken and you're not going to start leading me down dark alleys to slip me some coke, are you? Nah, mate, she'll like 'ya," he promised as he immediately reached to start slipping pieces of the jigsaw together. Anything that distracted him from his pain, both physical and emotional, was welcome, even if it was something as simple as a puzzle.

"...I shouldn't even talk to her. She's the one who forced me in here and I get why she did it, but I... I dunno. I could easily refuse to see her if I was childish and petty, but she's the only visitor I get, and she brings these homemade cookies with her so... it'd be dumb to cut her out, right?"
 
"Don't cut out your family," he replied simply as he moved a puzzle piece to the side carefully. "They're important to you. When I came out, my parents essentially cut me out completely, you know? It's nice that your mother is so loving, even if it's... misdirected. Not to mention, I could go for some cookies," he admitted.

"I haven't been hungry but I'm a sucker for sweets, especially handmade. My mother made the best oatmeal cookies for church every Sunday, I was always excited. You say the food is good here but it can't compare to some home cooking," He cooed, sighing at the thought.
 
"Hey, I'm sure you'll enjoy some home cooking soon enough. You won't be here for, like, years, like some of the folks. Nah, you'll get out and have a nice life and-- and hey, if I get out too, I'll have to make you my famous spaghetti. Even my mother likes it, and she's fussy as hell when it comes to food. I haven't cooked for a while, but it's something to look forward to. They recommend that in here - making plans and looking to the future. After you've gone through hell reexamining the past, anyway," he murmured, absently tapping his fingers on the table while focusing as best as he could on the puzzle. As glad as he was to be in a familiar environment with familiar faces, he would still much prefer to be on the outside, able to do and go wherever he desired.

At least inside this place he was safe from harming himself, anyway. That was a bonus.

"So, how'd you do it? Overdose on pills? Hanging?" He murmured casually, lifting his eyes back up to examine him. "It's something you've gotta go through with the psychiatrist here anyway, you may as well tell me. I'm not judging. I'm hardly in a position to fucking judge anyone, Jake."
 
"... overdose. I tried to overdose on some pills I had laying around," he explained quietly, the light air falling like a lead balloon as he nervously looked away. His cheeks grew red at the memory - or really, lack thereof. "It didn't work, obviously. Chris... he hanged himself in our closet and it worked for him, I probably should have done that myself," he admitted. He wasn't going to lie and say that he regretted trying to kill himself because he had so much to live for, rather he was just embarrassed to have done it wrong.

"My sister found me before i was past the point of no return, apparently, though she said I was nearly blue. Then all I remember after that was waking up here, yeah? You probably think I'm an idiot."
 
"Nah. Your overdose was at least intended. I'm the idiot that accidentally overdosed, you know? At least you knew what you were doing, hm? Not that you should do that anyway, but... hey, you're not an idiot. We both overdosed, so maybe we're idiots together," he grinned, offering a faint wink as he broke his attention from the puzzle briefly. He had met a few people that had attempted suicide, but only now did he feel a connection to someone who had purposely overdosed to try and end their lives. Up until recently, Colby hadn't overdosed on anything, so had no real connection to those that had. Only now did that happen, even if his own was accidental.

"...You know, I've contemplated it. Suicide, I mean. I know a guy who knows a guy who could get a gun if I really wanted it, but I chickened out. It was just when my boyfriend left, but I got through it. I... hey, I'm sure it'll get easier for 'ya. Time's a great healer and all that."
 
"Yeah, well, it's doing a pretty shit job," he murmured, his lips pulling into a frown as he connected two pieces together. Pressing them hard into place, he pulled a fake smile.


"Look, call me dramatic but I don't think I'll get over this, Colby. He... was my soulmate, you know? We were together for nearly a decade. It just hurts. He said in his note that I didn't do anything wrong b-but... but why else would he kill himself?" He whispered, his voice cracking as he clearly grew upset.
 
"I dunno. Why did I ruin the friendships I had since I was 4 years old? Why did Barbara over there try to jump in front of a train a day after renewing her wedding vows? People are complicated, kid. They might have good lives with good people around them but it doesn't mean they're happy, you know? Sometimes they just... think they can't go on and it's sad but it happens. I dunno, I ain't a fucking psychiatrist, dude. Ask the Doc about this stuff, I'm probably doing more harm trying to give you answers when god knows I haven't got 'em. I mean, hell, I'm as damaged as anyone else in this joint," he laughed, offering a quick wave over to the middle-aged woman when she heard her name, offering a charming smile to reassure her everything was fine. It worked, of course. Having formed friendships with people during his frequent visits since he was 18, he was comfortable enough around them to be charming and even flirtatious now and then. He didn't do it for himself, but he'd learnt that Barbara, for instance, would smile over the simplest flirty comment, with the remark often making her day. If he could try and make her and the others just a little happier, he would do that.

"I mean... you know, I'm pretty fucked up. I tried to cut out my own organs when I was off my face on crystal meth once. I don't know why I did it. Like I said, people are fucking complicated."
 
"You were under the influence, though. If you weren't, you wouldn't have done it, right? Chris never did drugs. Hell, he barely finished a beer before getting wasted. He... was perfect, you know? There was nothing he couldn't do. Did I not talk to him enough? H-He never hid anything from me before, I thought," he whispered, his words coming out as babbled as he began to sniffle, his cheeks reddening in upset as he let go of the puzzle pieces and instead wipe his face, especially when he noticed a nurse watching them.

"I just wish I could have talked to him. He's the only person who I really had. My parents abandon me, my sister barely cared, and now he's gone? Who do I have left? A sister who yelled at me the moment I woke up? She just panned me off to this place so she wouldn't have to do this again."
 
"Oi, just because I do drugs doesn't mean I'm not perfect. I've got a fucking million dollar smile and I could so be a model. They're all doing cocaine anyway, everyone knows it. I'd fit right in," he joked, trying his best to alleviate the sadness from their conversation, feeling responsible for having brought it all back up. Whilst it was important to come to terms with their pasts and figure out how to move forward, he didn't necessarily want to sit all day talking about it. He was happy to listen to him, of course he was, but he also wanted to talk about normal things: about TV shows and hobbies and music. Not about death and being alone.

"Like you said, we're mates now, so you have me. We'll be here for at least six months, dude, maybe a year. I'm not gonna be leaving, and you ain't gonna be leaving, so we have each other. We're, like... overdose buddies or whatever."
 
"I'm sorry," he whispered, being hyper-aware of how others felt more often than not. He immediately assumed that Colby was uncomfortable - why wouldn't he be? He grew silent for a moment, only to let out a snort of disbelief at the 'overdose buddy' comment. Wiping his tired eyes with the oversized sleeves of his pastel sweatshirt, he offered a nod before rubbing his face completely.

"Six months?... Oof. I mean, I didn't really plan to be here so I wasn't expecting it to take so long, I guess?" He admitted as he rubbed his neck, sniffling a bit to stop his nose from running. "Do you think we'll get out at the same time? I don't want to be here alone without you, okay? I'm... needy. Super needy, aha."
 
"I'll be in here a while, dude. I've spent five years coming to this place for a few weeks at a time. I'm pretty sure they're not going to let me out until they're absolutely sure I'm not a danger to myself. And hey, I'm actually serious about this rehabilitation stuff this time. I wanna, like... get clean and have a life, even if that means being stuck in this place for a year to achieve that," he pointed out, lifting his eyes up from the puzzle again to offer another quick smile. He didn't at all mind the fact Jake seemed to have formed a bond with him this quickly. He needed the friends, especially someone around his age who could maybe become a positive factor in his life. He needed people around him who weren't involved in drugs, who could at least encourage him to stay away from them. The friends he had outside the hospital were all recreational users, and it was difficult to be around them and not partake in dabbling with some new drug.

Having a friend who wasn't into that would only be beneficial for him.

"Where do you live, anyway? You seem kinda... I dunno... not posh, but pretty... middle-class? Like, you seem like you don't come from the estate, I guess that's what I mean," he shrugged, resting his head on his hand. "My folks were pretty rich when I was a kid, had a whole business and all that. Then my Dad died and we found out he was, like, in debt and everything sorta went south pretty quickly, so that was fun. You said you were Catholic, right? Do you go to Church and do that whole thing?"
 
"Yeah, my parents were pretty well-off. I pay for everything on my own now, I'm pretty proud of it," he admitted with a soft smile as he returned to the puzzle, though he lost interest in really completing it. It was more so just to avoid looking at Colby in the eye.

"I live in a flat above the cafe I work for in Notting Hill," he explained. "I've always wanted to live there, it was always so cute. I was stealing some money from my parents when I was 16, and Chris did the same. We managed to find jobs before we graduated, knowing that we'd be kicked out, you know? I was pretty proud of the both of us."
 
Hearing the life that he had once had did make Colby genuinely sad for him, because it was a life that wasn't going to be the same without his husband. That said, at least Jake had all those memories of a happy, put-together life. In contrast, Colby lived with his mother and had no significant achievements to speak of. He had no qualifications from school, no real friends to speak of, and an ex-boyfriend who was off with their childhood friends doing everything Colby wanted, but had fucked up on. He had nothing to fondly recall in his head, so hearing Jake did make him realise how shit his life had been the last few years.

"I live with my mother," he admitted casually, forcing a smile to cover up the long silence. "I don't think she'd let me out of her sight these days. In her head, I'm safe if I'm at home. That's utter bullshit but... meh, she cares. That's nice enough."
 
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