One Day at a Time

"I don't know, maybe the medication won't work? None have worked so far so I don't see how thi will magically help," admitted Casper quietly as he ran his brush against the canvas more evenly and smoothly. He was exhausted and he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep so it was best to at least spend some time being proactive. Pausing, he looked over at the other with a shy smile, his hands gripping the brushes tight.

"I don't have very high hopes, if I'm to be honest with you, Pat. Why would I? No medication has helped with my visions before, after all, s-so... s-so why should this matter? I dunno. I'm usually a pretty upbeat person but this is ridiculous," He teased quietly, his eyes staring blankly at the canvas. "I would be happy to see change, I... I guess. I don't really want to lose you, though. You're the only good thing out of this all."
 
"...I'm working on some ideas to stay around you permanently. Maybe. None of them have really worked so far," they admitted with an awkward, clearly embarrassed shrug, their eyes only locked on the mishmash of colours in front of them. They didn't want to admit the tactics they had tried to ensure they stuck around permanently, perhaps even able to move about the others realm and be seen by everyone, not just Casper, but withholding information seemed pointless. They wanted to help Casper, and if they were in need of help, it felt only right to let Casper in on that and see if he had any ideas to help them in return.

"I tried... I don't know, it was silly. I tried... I don't know the word, but I wanted to take over someone's body. I can phase through walls, I figured I could just... phase into someone. It didn't work, obviously. Plus I'd feel bad if it did work. The nurse had a life of his own so... I couldn't just take him over, that's mean-- I just wanted to be in your world properly. It doesn't matter. As long as you see me, I'm happy," they nodded firmly, tapping their fingers on their knees. "You're not mad, right? I know it's bad, I just... I wanted to be around."
 
"Maybe try it on a patient?" He suggested suddenly, his eyes taking in Pat with a flat expression. He was a kind person more often than not but that didn't mean he couldn't be particularly blunt or rude. In his eyes, the other patients meant nothing to him - after all, some patients had been left at the clinic for years without any contact with family so what would be so wrong if they suddenly were taken over by Pat?

"They're more susceptible, I imagine. I mean, it isn't morally right but... but you deserve to stick around. And if this medication miraculously helps, you'll still be there. I like you, Pat. You're my best friend."
 
"...That's mean, Casper. I... won't pretend that the idea isn't tempting, but I don't think it's... right. It'd feel cruel. If you get better and stop seeing us, then-- I'd be upset but also happy, you know? You wouldn't have to see us and you'd have a life, so-- so I'm fine with that. I'm just happy we have some weeks left before the medication arrives," they nodded firmly, forcing back the urge to get upset by the very real possibility that Casper might one day stop seeing them altogether. It was a terrifying prospect but one they knew would potentially happen, so bracing themselves for that possibility would help if the time did arrive one day.

"Besides, I tried already and it didn't work; I just phase through them. It was silly to try, so-- let's not talk about it.You're my best friend -my only friend, really- so let's enjoy the time we have left before you block us all out with pills-- which I think is good, by the way! I want you t-to be normal, Casper; and happy and healthy, so..."
 
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"That will never happen," he countered, his head shaking as he continued to paint. Taking in Pat, he decided to paint the creature much like the others he had painted over time. They wwere interesting subjects when they weren't touching him or trying to hurt him, after all. What better way to commemorate their friendship than to paint Pat and have it hung up on his space?

"I'm not normal, I've... never been normal. Just ask my father, he'll proudly call his son a freak and whatnot. I mean, I don't blame him, yeah? My sister, she's... she's so successful. She's back in Belfast while I'm left here in Australia, you know? I feel horrible, being on the other side of the world from her. She has her own flat, a great job - she has a Bachelors degree and everything. I'm proud of her but I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous. I'm going to be spending my life here and I've accepted that."
 
"That's... stupid, Casper. You're going to leave, I know it. You're not ill! They can't keep a-a healthy person here who doesn't require help, that'd be silly. The doctor said he'll help you get out of here and-- and there's nothing more I'd like than you to leave and have a good life, even if it means you forgetting about me. I'll get over it in time, as long as I know you're happy," they declared with a firm nod, their eyes lighting up a tad more once they took into account Casper's picture, recognising all at once who the black shadowy figure depicted on the canvas was. They had seen themselves in mirrors and reflected in the pond outside, though naturally, Patrick tried to avoid looking at themselves; being reminded of how scary they looked in comparison to the human they desperately wanted to look like was never a comforting thing.

However, seeing Casper paint them did make them happy; it meant that, should Casper ever stop seeing them, he would always have a reminder of them before that potentially happened.

"Keep that painting, okay? If you stop seeing me, at least you have that," they nodded again, returning to their own canvas of bright paint splodges. "...Mine's terrible in comparison but that's okay; I like bright colours. You could keep this one too, when you leave, so you can remember me even more."
 
"I think it's lovely," he countered with a smile. The concept of them leaving stressed him out and he had already been left shaking from stress recently so putting off the idea was great, in his eyes. "The colors are pretty together - my sister calls that modulation or something. She knows all the big art words, it's cool. She said she has a friend who has a gallery and Dublin and that she would love to put my art up in it. I can always ask her to put your art up, too. I mean, I think it looks lovely, don't you? You're a great artist, Pat." He praised, his smile only growing as he took in the other, especially their bright eyes.

If I move back home, I want you to come with me. I'm certain I won't stop seeing you, that... doesn't mean I won't find better ways to cope with it all. I just - it's scary, I guess? All of those bugs c...crawling up my back and all that. It's gross and makes me feel dirty - it's not pleasant. How am j supposed to ignore that?"
 
Pat could say that they found the likelihood of them ever leaving the hospital slim, and the likelihood of Casper seeing them his entire life even slimmer, but that just made them upset, and they didn't want to feel that way. For all they knew, they only had a limited time like with Casper, and marring that with sadness was not how they wanted to leave things. Instead, they nodded and tried their best to show how happy they were. Without a mouth, that was difficult, but the glimmer of their eyes tended to brighten whenever a positive emotion was present, and currently, that glimmer was shining brightly.

"I'd love to come, it sounds like fun," they remarked easily, wiping paint from their face. "I... don't know how you'll ignore the bugs but I'm sure you'll find a way, with Nathan helping you. He's a very smart man, Casper."
 
"Yes, well, a lot of doctors have been 'smart men'. The difference is that Nathan seems to actually care," Casper countered, watching with a laugh at the sight of the paint contrasting with the only substance Pat was made of. It didn't last long and he watched as the ink covered the colorful paint quickly but it was still a sight to see.

"See? I think this is proof that you're real... unless I'm somehow painting both paintings and I don't realize it," he insisted, his arms motioning to the two paintings. "It's just a matter of right place, wrong time. I think. That's the saying, right? Like, if someone were to come in they'd at least see a floating paintbrush."
 
"Nathan didn't see the bathtub full of water from my bath yesterday. Maybe they genuinely can't see, I... don't know how this works, Casper. All I know is that they can't see me, besides you. Nathan can't see me yet, just... the weird goo," they smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the table to observe his painting from a short distance, deciding that the longer they looked at it, the more they liked at, especially if Casper was telling the truth about wanting to take it with him when he did eventually leave. He might doubt that that was a possibility but Patrick was equally as certain that it would happen, however long it took.

"I can't really-- go with you and have things be the same, Casper. Your family will just think you're mad when they see you talking to me-- they'll think you're talking to yourself. But we can sort that out, can't we? I-I'm just... happy being around you."
 
Getting up himself, he moved a good distance away to take in the painting from a distance as well, feigning dramatic, thoughtful hums of curiosity. He then let a grin grow, proud for his new friend. It almost felt like he was talking to a normal human being, as long as he ignored the fact that the other had no feature other than white eyes. They could talk and interact and at that point, that was all that mattered to him.

"I think it's lovely, really. I could picture it hanging up in a well lit cafe or something of the sort," he continued to praise before taking in his own painting, his smile softening. It was much nearer than his others mostly because he wasn't in a complete state of panic unlike the rest. He only moved again when he felt his nose begin to bleed, sighing deeply.
 
Spotting the nosebleed didn't panic them as much as they thought it would, being well aware of the frequent nosebleeds Casper had to abide as a result of the monsters and strange beings he reluctantly saw. All Patrick could do was sympathetically watch on, too afraid to lend a hand in case their friend reacted poorly to the black ink that would ultimately be left behind as residue on Casper's face. It was probably a good thing Patrick had resisted the intense urge to lend a hand, with Nathan appearing into the designated art room just moments later. From the cheery expression on his face, the young doctor evidently had some good news, probably regarding the pills he had promised to put an inquiry in for, but that smile dropped within moments; not just as a result of the heavy nosebleed, but also because of the painting. He seemed completely oblivious to the canvas of colour Patrick had painted, apparently not seeing anything painted on there at all, but even if he could see something, his attention would ultimately be drawn to Casper's.

He had only heard descriptions of Patrick, so didn't really visualise what the supposed creature looked like. He could guess from what he had heard that the painting depicted that creature, but that realisation only made him grow a little pale, realising once and for all that it couldn't possibly be fake; not when he had knowledge to back it up.

"...Is that... the being you see? Patrick, yes? I... I've seen this before-- not myself, of course, but-- in case files, I-- In a book, actually, from my university days when I was studying psychology and-- someone's seen this monst-- being before, I'm certain of it. I-- It freaked me out when I first saw the patient's drawing, I couldn't possibly forget it-- I'll have to research it again, make totally sure, of course."
 
Pinching his nose with the tissue paper he had grabbed, he jumped when he heard someone else enter. The art room was rarely ever occupied by more than one person at a time and Casper liked it that way. To have someone suddenly enter only caused him to squeak, only really relaxing his tense shoulders when realizing who it was. With a small smile, it faded just as quickly when he didn't receive praise for his art as he expected to.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he admitted, his voice nasally as he took a seat on the bench, trying not to look over at Patrick and cause alarm, not when he was having a good time. "So... it's psychology related, then?"
 
"I'd prefer to see this as evidence that someone else saw -or sees- what you do. I can't remember the details, it was a while back since I was studying for my degree, but-- I can't forget the picture, it scared the living daylights out of me to imagine that somebody thought they saw something as terrifying as this," he murmured with his eyes locked back onto the painting, shuddering in the realisation that this was now real. The puddle of gooey ink on the floor that had yet to disappear into the floorboards was evidence that Patrick was there, in the room - or at least had been recently. The talk of the being terrifying and disgusting by the oblivious doctor didn't give Patrick much desire to stick around, disappearing into the wall to avoid feeling upset any longer.

"...I'll research this, find the details. Maybe we can contact the person who claimed to see this being, see if they managed to block them out-- I imagine they were here at one point, a patient, so they shouldn't be too hard to track down. This is good news, Casper!"
 
"I'm trusting you, Nathan..." he replied slowly, his hands now nervously wringing themselves as he watched Patrick hurry off. In a way - despite not having been proven it - he felt as if Patrick could protect him in some way. He didn't know how but the fact that they were gone when he was around just proved that, especially when he noticed the familiar bugs slowly crawl from cracks in the walls that werent really there.

"I think I'm ready to go," he quickly declared, moving to pick up both paintings with a huff. "Where can I put these? P-Pat did this really cute colorful one," he explained in a babble and in his desperate attempt to move faster, he stumbled and fell onto the ground, hissing when his knee hit the concrete directly. He forced back tears as he struggled back to his feet, taking in everything with horror.
 
"What colourful one-- there's only one painting, Casper," the doctor began gently, staring at what he thought was an empty canvas, his confusion only broken by the almighty clattering on the ground. Then, the paintings were completely inconsequential, his full focus now on getting Casper to his feet and making sure that he was alright, frowning at the dried nosebleed and the apparently new injury to his knee.

"...Let's get you to your room. You can eat your lunch in there later, I don't want you to put pressure on your knee and make this worse than it needs to be. I'll be in my office, researching, but you call a nurse if you need me. I'll pop by later anyway, if I find that case file about that patient-- it's good news, you ought to be excited about this. Someone seeing what you see, the same figures-- I'll look into it, but I think this means that-- well, this isn't delusion or hallucination, it's... real. I see that now. It's a good thing, Casper."
 
Desperately fiddling with the paintings to keep them as sort of a crutch under his arm, he offered a smile through the pain when hearing just how excited Nathan was. Casper, on the There's hand, was terrified. He felt the creatures and saw them but a small part of him relied on the idea that he was just ill and it was all in his imagination. While a part of him was relieved that he was being validated, he also knew that he had to genuinely fear his life.

"So you really don't see the painting?" He confirmed after a pause, the idea confusing him the more he mulled the fact over. "Patrick painted it. If... if Patrick is real, wouldn't their painting show up? I find it beautiful..."
 
"I don't know how to answer that, I... just know that I can't see anything on it, Casper. It's... certainly a weird situation but we'll figure it out. I.. have to go and work now, I sometime forget I have other patients when I'm around you - it's entirely my fault, of course. I just... want to help you out more than I've wanted to help anyone out before, you don't deserve to be here, not really-- I'll check up on you later, just go and get some rest," he smiled as he helpfully held the door open, only really forcing himself to leave when he was sure the other had settled down on the bed and was okay to be left alone - at least, left alone by humans. There were always going to be the strange bugs that seemed drawn to Casper and proceeded to edge daringly close to him, something that seemed to occur more in Patrick's absence.

Patrick didn't reappear for the remainder of the day, either consciously staying away or not realising how much time was passing by as they opted to keep a distance. It wasn't the doctor's comments or his expression of horror that caused the being to stay away - it was the fact that he seemed to have some knowledge of a former patient who claimed to have seen Patrick. With no memory of that, it obviously petrified them, not knowing why they failed to remember something as significant as that was.

Nathan, however, did pay a visit back to his patient as promised, though the optimism he had previously had had now dimmed a tad, despite his efforts to smile upon entering Casper's room at around 9 at night. It had taken him all day to finally get around to researching the case file he vaguely remembered from his university days, where he had read about a patient who had distinctly drawn a figure Nathan now recognised as Patrick. He had hoped to track down the former patient, learn more about the things he and Casper both apparently saw, which was when the disappointment sunk in, finding out that the patient case file was from the 1920s, ultimately leaving him back at a dead-end.

"So obviously we can't get in touch with him," he explained tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "His name was Jake, He died here, way back in the 20s, Casper. Not that I think he'd have been much help to us. He never claimed to see the figures about him; he said he saw that shadow monster -Patrick- in the mirror, not out around him. He just sounds like he was hallucinating, seeing visions. I'll admit, it's eerily spooky how similar the sketch he gave his doctors and your painting are - but I can't imagine they're depicting the same creature. It's just a scary coincidence," the doctor smiled as he handed over the sketch from the patient, having printed it out to compare beside Casper's painting. "See? They're similar but... well, it can be coincidental, hm? It makes no sense that he wouldn't see your... friend, Patrick, anywhere but in the mirror, you know? The poor man sounded like he suffered a lot, I... can't imagine researching him would help us out with your case, it was a waste of time, really."
 
The rest of the day was quiet for Casper. He had his knee wrapped up properly, cringing when realizing he had managed to damage it enough for him to be wheelchair bound for awhile. The only time he was wheelchair bound was when he was once transport, often being drugged quite a bit to lessen his anxiety. Just because he himself was quiet didn't mean the creatures were, his eyes trailing along the bird-like ball of ink that fluttered about his room, a small smile on his lips as the thing struggled to leave. He couldn't leave without asking for help so he knew there wasn't much he could do.

He was also wrapped quite nicely in thick blankets that also restricted his movements, though it was at least a comfortable restriction. He wasn't tired - far from it - hence why he was entertaining himself by watching the bird but that didnf mean he wasn't startled by Nathan peeking in.

"... That's unfortunate," he agreed quietly, his hands fiddling with the edge of the blanket absently. "I don't mean to put you through all of this, doctor. I... I don't want to stress you out and it seems Ike that's what I'm doinf..."
 
"Doctor-- I told you, didn't I? You can call me Nathan; it's less formal. I still find being called 'Doctor' weird, I suppose. Besides, I'm keen to build up trust with my patients, not detach myself from them. I... I don't know, I think we're friends, aren't we? I want to help you, you really need to stop assuming this is stressful for me," he sighed as he took a seat in the chair opposite the bed, twiddling his thumbs after carefully slotting the picture back in the case file. As disappointing as he thought the outcome of his research had been, he was also happy to admit that he found that interesting too; working towards something that might help Casper out. He hadn't been as motivated as he was during those few hours, and while the result was something he thought was useless to him, it still didn't cloud the fact he had realised that he cared for Casper as a friend, rather than jut a patient he had a duty of care for.

"...So, hey, cheer up. I enjoyed researching this. Was it a dead-end? Sure, but it's always interesting to read up on past patients. Makes me realise how far we've come. I can't imagine this place was good for people back in the 20s, I doubt they had the understanding about mental health we do today, so-- it's really nothing you need to apologise for, I found the research interesting and it's probably something I should do more often; look up past cases and past history and all of that. The board here like that sort of thing, an active involvement with the facility's past-- it'll probably earn me some brownie points at the next meeting to be honest."
 
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