Reunited

[potassiumboron]

​

Aubyn Whiteley was bored.

Okay, maybe that was an understatement. He was excruciatingly bored. There wasn't much you could really do inside a mental hospital when interacting with the other patients made you feel physically sick. Alas, there was also so much staring at the ceiling above him that he could take, hence why the young man had taken the huge step in venturing into the main study. It was a rarity to have him present and one that most of the other criminally insane patients didn't find intriguing - even by their standards, he was considered different.

But boredom had practically forced him into taking extreme measures like this, just to find something to curb the tiresome monotonousness he was currently overwhelmed with. If he had to sit down and attempt a game of chess with someone who hadn't the intelligence or the patience to play properly, so be it.

Predictably, he ended up getting pissed off within five minutes of playing with some irritable oaf who hadn't a clue what he was doing, which Aubyn wasted no time in muttering beneath his breath. If he had spent more time with the patients in the relaxed setting, he'd have realised that the man had excellent hearing-- though he worked that out for himself when the giant of a man leaped across the table to pin Aubyn to the floor and offer him a punch to the face for his rude comment. Not that Aubyn really acknowledged the punch, or the blood trickling from his nose - it was nothing compared to what he'd done to himself, after all, and even if it hurt, he knew better than to react and show that. He was an expert at hiding how he felt, so much so that even his psychiatrist had begun to yell at him in desperation to have him open up. After 7 years in the adult hospital, he'd barely uttered anything the doctors didn't already know from his files.

Although, once a nervous young nurse stumbled into the room and stammered her way through her sentences, he was a little too taken aback to rearrange the shocked expression that had momentarily flooded his face. Apparently, he had a visitor-- and that was equally as unlikely as, say, Aubyn sitting down for a good old gossip with a patient. It just didn't happen. In all the 12 combined years he'd spent institutionalised, he'd never once had a visitor come to see him.

He knew it wouldn't be any member of his family. No member of the Whiteley family would be caught dead visiting the hospital - it was, in their eyes, social suicide. He didn't think anyone from his school would be curiously coming to visit, either. He hadn't had friends there and, after his little murder spree, he figured the survivors probably had therapy to try and deal with what they had seen. They were hardly going to rush to visit him. He eventually decided that it was a journalist or someone interested in his story. It was, after all, a pretty intriguing one, if only because he was a Whiteley. He'd had journalists try and get into the asylum in the past to talk to him but none had been granted entrance-- but he also knew that the lead psychiatrist was easy to bribe. Perhaps one idiot journalist had finally worked that out.

Snatching the offered tissue from the nurse to hold to his nurse, he only briefly delighted in the chastisement the other patient received for the violent attack before trailing through the corridors to the visitors' room. Not that many people visited, full stop. This was a hospital for the criminally insane, after all. The friends and family people had outside of the hospital had more or less all burned their bridges with them, which made the fact Aubyn of all people had a visitor all the more strange.

He really should have realised who was visiting him, given Philip was the only person he really ever befriended, but 7 years had passed since he last saw him - he had assumed that their friendship had just dwindled to nothing. Which was why, for the second time that day, he stood in clear shock at the sight of the other man sat at the table awaiting him. Eventually kicking himself into gear, he wandered over and took a seat opposite, his back perfectly straight and posture rigid and stiff-- though that was normal. He never really ever relaxed.

For a while, he stayed silent, just observing the other after 7 years of not seeing him. Well, he'd read the papers, but it was different seeing him in the flesh.

"...What is it I can do for you? I assume you aren't here for a friendly visit," he began slowly, remaining perfectly calm despite the presence of two burly men nearby with their hands unsubtly resting on their guns. "Whatever it is, can you make it quick? I have a game of chess to get back to."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"... I'm doing fine, how are you?" Philip replied simply as he tapped his foot on the linoleum, his lips curled into a smile. "I've missed you, you know... though, it doesn't seem that you've been lacking any stimulation here. That was my biggest worry, to be honest - that you'd be some brain dead simpleton bashing his head on the wall," he said slowly as he adjusted his cufflinks, his eyes never leaving Aubyn's face as he, too, took in the man.

The two were visual opposites, in that moment. With a finely pressed suit and loafers, Philip was clean shaven and clearly in pique physical condition... in comparison to Aubyn, with his sweats and bloody face. Nonetheless, the man leaned over the table a tad with a slowly growing grin before moving to wipe the dribble of blood from his friend's cheek.

"Don't worry, will you? Do you honestly think I'm just going to show up to taunt you? You know I'm better than that, Abby. Now, why are you so urgent to play chess? You and I both know no one will play with you in here," he scolded softly before returning to his seat and tap his finely cut nails on the table absently. "You can thank me later, but I was planning on doing something better... like, say, going out on the town. That is, unless you enjoy rotting away here. I can't force you to do anything," he lied with a coo.

 

[potassiumboron]

Flinching at the other's touch before he could compose himself, he jerked away from his hand and dabbed the remainder of the blood away with his tissue instead. He wasn't the greatest when it came to physical contact, unsurprisingly, but he had always allowed Philip to, say, hold his hand or stand closer than most.

At least, he had done before the 7 years he felt he'd been left to rot and suffer in the asylum alone. While his so-called best friend was off living the good life, if his smart suit and new title were anything to go by, Aubyn had been sharing his life with idiots. He'd been deprived of everything he thought he was entitled to, made to share the company of people so beneath him that they didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him. So yes, he was a little pissed off at the moment, especially when the first words out of the other's mouth weren't an apology-- though he knew Philip wasn't the sort to go apologising when other people were present. If he was ever going to murmur a sorry, he'd do so when the two were completely alone.

"I've been playing chess. You aren't special, Philip. Other people can play chess with me," he retorted in a sharp tone he had become infamous for, his lips pursing as he tried to hide the grimace that was daring to show. After all, while other people could try to play chess with him, they were so useless that it did make him want to start banging his head on walls-- but he hardly wanted to give Philip the satisfaction of being right.

"I don't think you can just whisk me on out of here. Mayor or not, you're not omnipotent-- but then again, I'm sure you don't plan on something silly like the law getting in the way, right? What are you going to do, bribe him? Threaten to kill his family? You haven't changed a bit, have you? Here's me, thinking you cleaned up and went straight..."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"I'm anything but straight, Abby," he replied with a snort as he folded his hands neatly. Taking in the walls of the room, he knew better than anyone that it was most likely the nicest one in the whole building. After all, the hospital most likely wanted it's visitors to think their patients were being treated well, especially since the place wasn't cheap. He held back his urge to laugh at the fact that the chairs seemed to be nearly untouched, though it was hardly surprising.

"Listen, you should know better. If I want something, I get it, and I want you out of this helllhole. Sure, it took a bit longer than I was hoping, but I had to do it right. It's not easy getting a mass murderer out of an asylum, Aubyn. I have it all set up, you know? I've got a job for you the minute you get out of here, and I have no problem with you living with me. It can be like how it was when we were younger, yeah?" He offered slowly, all the while cracking his back wearily. "This is a once in a life time opportunity, Aubyn."

Impatiently leaning back in his chair, he motioned for a guard to approach by a simple wave of his hand. He had already set up the process to get his friend out, and he fully expected Aubyn to take the opportunity, so the clearly fake resistance was naturally annoying. The longer this took, the antsier he became.

"Come on, mate."

 

[potassiumboron]

A job? He'd gotten him a job?

Sure, the effort was appreciated and, if anything, it was proof that Philip at least cared for him enough to want him to be on his feet when he got out. He could quite have easily just broken him out and left him to his own devices, which he really wouldn't have coped well with. The last time he was released, he'd attempted suicide three times just because he didn't quite know what else to do with himself, so of course he was grateful for the offer of a job and a place to live.

But he couldn't help arch an eyebrow and smirk at the idea, feeling comfortable enough to allow his usual deadpan expression to break. He still thought his surname meant something in this city. He may not have his parents or his family behind him anymore, but he was still a Whiteley. The thought of working some menial job was hilarious. He was sure the job Philip was offering was one most people would work desperately for, but it wasn't ever going to be enough for a Whiteley.

But given he'd murdered people and had spent half his life in an asylum, he probably shouldn't be too fussy.

"I appreciate it, you know I do. I just find it difficult to trust someone who not only left me here to rot for 7 years," he continued, easing back against the chair with his own hands laid flat in front of him, that being yet another stark difference. In contrast to his friend's perfectly nails, his had been bitten right down to the quick, the dried blood around each nail evidence of just how severe his nail biting had become.

"...What's the job, Philip? I don't think many people want a mass murderer working for them, as you so sensitively put. I'll agree to leave if I think the job's worthy enough for me. I'm not lowering myself and degrading myself, okay?"

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"Working a humble job is the embarrassing part, is it? Not the way you are now? You're better than this, Abby. You don't have to stay in this place. Sure, you can't be the mayor, but I am still down an assistant. There's nothing I'd love more than to see you in a nice suit and tie, to be honest. You'd look utterly handsome, definitely better than what you look like now. You could become a successful member of society, outdo your parents in every way if you follow my plan," he explained simply as he folded his legs, his brow raised as his smile faded to a scowl.

"Look, this is getting annoying. I told you your position, offered you a place to stay, and the fact that you're acting so ungrateful is pretty disgusting. If you really would prefer to wallow in this shithole, go ahead. I'm going to give you a minute to think about it before I leave, though I would much prefer you coming with me. If you do, I promise I can make up the fact that I spent the last seven years working hard to achieve what we both wanted."

 

[potassiumboron]

"An assistant? To you? Are you fucking deluded? That's probably ironic, given I'm the one sat here in an asylum, but fucking christ. Don't insult me, Philip. That's just degrading. I'm worth far more than that. I'm... I may have had a few years where I disrespected my family name, but if I ever intend on building myself back up, I certainly don't expect to start at such a low wrung on the ladder. Me, an assistant... fucking hell..." He grunted, the smirk on his face growing derisively at the very idea. Although, as angry as he appeared to be given the uncharacteristically loud outburst, it at least had the advantage of breaking the cold, robotic posture he'd purposely portrayed. Philip knew full well that he only held himself in such a way with people he disliked, which was almost everyone. He wanted to make Philip aware that he didn't regard him as a friend at the moment, hence the cold stance, but it did dissipate the second his anger flamed up.

He may not speak to many people, but Philip was someone he'd constantly talked to when they made friends all those years ago so, as shocking as his cussing might have seemed to outsiders, it wasn't anything too surprising. He did have a tendency to swear in almost every sentence he uttered, when he chose to speak, so it was at least proof he hadn't changed too much.

"...It's the best offer I'm going to have, isn't it? And anything is better than this, I suppose. You know, none of them respect me in here. Not even the psychiatrists. Doctor James dines with my parents every week, and yet I'm treated like shit. I'm still a... a Whiteley, you know? I deserve a hell of a lot more than this, I just... Fine. Okay, fine. I relent. I'll come with you and work for you and... and whatever, I just want to get out of these clothes and into something classic."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

As he listened to the other speak, Philip's face remained stoic as he watched. It wasn't until Aubyn had agreed did his grin return. Getting to his feet, he offered to hold out his hand for a shake, his eyes locked on the other critically as he fully expected to have a handshake in return. The last seven years had been a struggle for his ego, sure, but now Philip was surrounded by people who would listen to him at the drop of a hat.

"Good, I'm glad. I really didn't want to have to bribe your doctor into keeping you here, that would be silly. I have a suit all fitted for you already, in the car - I managed to get your medical data through some good conversation. I have your medication list as well, if you choose to keep taking those things. You know my feelings toward them, but hey, maybe you pop 'me for fun now," he insisted with a wink.

 

[potassiumboron]

Eyeing the outstretched hand, Aubyn gave another very unsubtle snort and another blatant eye roll. As much as he genuinely cared for Philip, even after all this time, and as impressed as he was with his rise in power, there were just some things he was never going to do. Shake his hand was just one of them. He saw it as beneath him, really, and there was also the fact he didn't like physical contact much. He had, at one time, happily walked with Philip's hand in his, but seven years apart with the feeling that he'd been abandoned had had its effects - he wasn't going to just slip back into his life like they hadn't been apart. It wasn't that easy.

"You looked at my medical records? Oh, had a right good read, did you? You're unbelievable. That's... it's personal, Philip. I suppose you read that I tried to kill myself too, hm? Did you have a chuckle at that over your breakfast? I know, it's hilarious, isn't it?" He remarked drily, his lips pulling into another grimace before he managed to return and compose himself back into the flat expression everyone had grown accustomed to seeing. Standing up from his chair, he did delight in the fact he had two inches over the other. Having always been the short one when they had befriended one another, even when they were 17, he wasn't afraid to take his slightly taller stature as a win.

"...For the record, I want to continue my medication. It does help me. I'm not insane, you know? I'm ready to leave. They just have a personal agenda against me. I've always been completely sane."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"I did enjoy skimming over them, yes. To be honest, I was expecting a lot more - a bit disappointed, in that sense," he admitted casually as he set his hand down and peaked up at the other a tad. Clearing his throat, he pulled the release forms that he held in his suit pocket, fully being prepared to shred them if his plan didn't work out - though, of course, he knew they would. Deciding to keep their height difference quiet, even though it was just a measly two inches, he continued down the hall casually, unable to hold back a smirk as nurses and doctors greeted him.

"If you're as sane as you think you are, why take the medication? A sane person wouldn't need medication. I've read all the shit they've got you on, Abby; Olanzapine, thiothixene, lorazepam, fluoxetine... the list goes on. Do you want to keep being on those? Fine. Your family isn't paying for the health insurance, so I'll help with taking care of your popping candy," he reassured as he smiled kindly to the nurse. He had already filled everything out, it was all a matter of getting Aubyn to agree. "Oi, do you have anything you want to get? I don't want you getting upset because you left a journal behind, or something else sentimental."

 

[potassiumboron]

"Do I strike you as a sentimentalist, Philip? I don't have connections with any items I have here, no. I don't keep journals. The last time I tried it, someone stole my pencil and swallowed it whole, so I quickly gave up my venture into the literary world," he droned tiredly, beginning to tap his fingers on the table to emphasise how tedious this was all becoming. For his reunion with Philip, this was all incredibly anticlimactic. He wasn't sure what he'd expected from his first meeting back with his dear friend, but he sure as hell didn't think it'd be like this, because he was bored out of his brains.

Saying that, there wasn't much fun that could be had while in the asylum. As Philip had mentioned, he had plans to go out on the town. That sounded appalling, but it must be better than standing in the dreadful sweatpants in this dreadful asylum.

"Can't we hurry this along? I agree to leave. I won't be any trouble. I'll be so drugged up most the time that I'll hardly acknowledge your existence. The drugs zone me out. I won't be a problem. I'm actually rather committed to getting my life back on track. Staying with you might prove to be detrimental to that, but I haven't got a choice, really."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"Who knows? Seven years is a long time, Aubyn. For all I know, you could have fallen in love with a stuffed bear some cute inmate gave you and didn't want to leave it behind, or maybe you couldn't leave behind your favorite pair of generic gray sweatpants," he replied sarcastically once everything was settled with the paperwork. Leading the other towards the entrance, where a nice black car waited patiently just outside of the doors, he thanked the guards at the door and strolled into the back with a whistle.

"I don't understand why you're so upset, Aubyn. Sure, I was seven years late, but I never stopped thinking of you. Be honest with me, yeah? You probably totally forgot me, huh?" He questioned casually as he lifted up the ice bucket featuring his favorite bottle of wine and two glasses. Sure, it was clear that Aubyn wasn't really responding with the praise he was expecting, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to celebrate the way he wanted. "We can enjoy ourselves tonight, just you and me. What was the thing you missed the most from the outside?"

 

[potassiumboron]

Now this was more like it.

As pissed off as he was at the moment, and as long as he could hold a grudge for, he would have been happy to be in some rusted old car, heading to a one bedroom apartment in the rotten part of town if he was with Philip. Regardless of how he was acting, he did appreciate everything Philip was doing for him, and he had definitely missed him, far more than he was currently willing to admit to. He'd go anywhere Philip was, no matter where that place was.

It was a bonus, therefore, that he was experiencing the luxury he thought he really ought to have. He'd been used to nothing but limousines and surrounded by money for his first twelve years of life, and that hadn't ever left him. He deserved the best, there really was nothing wrong with admitting that, was there? He knew where his standing was in society, so of course he was going to soak up the first taste of luxury he'd had in his adult life.

And it was nice to experience that with the only person he'd really ever seen to be his equal in life.

"...I am proud of you, I hope you know that. Doing all of this, becoming a somebody in this shitty old town. I'm immensely proud of you, Phil. I remember when I read about it in the newspaper. It was a fabulous photo of you, by the way. The people really seem to like you," he began quietly, reaching for his glass of wine and downed at least half in one gulp. It wasn't graceful and it wasn't how he usually drank his wine (with elegance and poise) but he'd missed alcohol. He'd last had it when he was 17, so he thought that he was okay to act a little piggish at the moment.

"I'm not entirely sure how much they'll like you when they realise that your new assistant is me, by the way. My family will probably be in contact with you, demanding you throw me back into the hospital. I threaten their perfect reputation in this town-- oh. Oh, please tell me they went to your celebratory party. Did you invite them along? They wouldn't turn down an invitation to a social function."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"No, I didn't. In fact, I wanted to wait until you were out so I could properly invite them then," he admitted with a snort as he took a sip of his own glass carefully. Despite his cocky smirk, there was no one in the world that could really make his heart flutter like hearing Aubyn being proud of him. Sure, this was his plan already, but it was just a nice little cherry on the success cake.

"I was planning on making the whole thing public, actually. I have the speech already together, actually. I'll say that me getting you out was to show the public not to fear those with mental illness, and that reform is possible or some bullshit," he explained as he lounged out on the leather chair, yawning. "This is more complicated than you think, actually."

 

[potassiumboron]

"I didn't doubt that you had a whole plan ready to set in motion. That said, I am... grateful you chose to make a big display of this. I'm not fond of fuss or being the centre of attention like you, but... I think this may just be the thing to tear my family from their perch at the top of society. I think it's marvellous, actually. Assistant or not, me just being freed from that place with you at my side will infuriate them-- Oh, Phil, this is brilliant. I can't thank you enough, can I? Maybe I forgive you for abandoning me as you did, that's a relatively decent start to repaying you," he admitted, turning his face away before his smile could be seen. He was alone with Philip, if he forgot about the chauffeur, which, once he reminded himself of that, finally turned to lock eyes with his old friend and offered that smile across to him.

It at least made a nice change from the often permanent frown he'd worn at the asylum for 7 years straight.

"You mentioned that I'd be living with you. Are you sure that's quite alright? I don't feel entirely comfortable allowing you to do all this for me-- if I ever get my inheritance back, I'll financially repay you for all of this. That's a promise. Pigs might fly first, it's that unlikely, but I don't know. Maybe my parents will decide I'm their son and bring me back into their arms. Stranger things have happened."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"I have ways to get you your inheritance, if you want me to," he offered as he easily kept his eyes locked on the other in return. It took every fiber of his being not to squeal in delight at the fact that Aubyn was clearly impressed with his plans. Sure, the echo chamber of people who surrounded him every day told him how wonderful he was, and it certainly boost his ego, but the fact that the man he nonstop thought about for seven years was praising him unashamedly made him blush.

"Look, there's no problem with you living with me until you get back on your feet - or, forever, if you want. I want to rekindle our friendship, have everything go back to the way it was, just... not in a mental hospital, you know? You're a free man, with power above the law, and I want you to enjoy that with me. That's all I've ever wanted, actually," he admitted coolly as he took another sip of wine.

 

[potassiumboron]

"I don't want my parents dead, Philip. I have no emotional attachment to them, don't get me wrong, but I think death is far too good for them. I'd rather have them alive and, once I get my life back on track, have to watch me become somebody again. I think they'd hate that, and their misery is amusing to me. I... I plan to get my inheritance back myself. It's something I need to do, I think-- but should I get into trouble, I suppose it's handy having the mayor of this town prepared to help me. Having you as a best friend is certainly helpful," he admitted as he quietly rested a leg across the other and rested his head back against the car seat, happy to just sit there for a few minutes, sipping at his wine and watching the city buzz with life outside the window. He hadn't seen it for years and he was pleasantly happy to see that little had changed. He didn't cope well with change, so he was delighted to see the same sort of humdrum activities he'd seen 7 years prior.

"How have you been, anyway? I haven't asked you. I suppose you've had a few good years," he continued softly, turning his head back to him curiously. "Have you been lonely? I know you have a status now and everyone just adores you, but they aren't your friends, Philip. None of them are, not really. You can't trust anyone in this town. People are bought far too easily. You can trust me, though. I'm never going to let you down."

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"I know you won't. I wouldn't let you disappoint me," he replied simply as he turned his attention to the window himself, watching as people wandered the streets, his finished glass of wine absently set in his hand. After a moment of silence, he glanced back at the other with a smile. "In fact, I'd be not only incredibly surprised if you did, I'd be heartbroken. If I can't even trust my best friend after I got him out of a mental hospital, who can I trust?"

Adjusting himself, he fully turned to face the other as he leaned against the door. Eyeing the other in his sweatsuit and ragged appearance, his smirk did fade a tad at the mention of loneliness. He, in response, rolled his eyes.

"I don't allow myself to be lonely, Aubyn. There's too much to do, you know? Did I miss you? Of course. I thought about you quite a bit, but I did keep myself busy. I had some fun times at parties during college, but I mostly focused on my studies. You used to say I was a nerd, didn't you? I suppose you're right," he snorted before moving to pour himself another glass.

 

[potassiumboron]

He wasn't entirely expecting the other to break down and admit that he'd been lonely, but he was sort of hoping for a more sincere reaction, because he would admit to being lonely if the question was directed at him. He wouldn't want to admit to it, given his penchant for holding his cards close to his chest, but he found it exceptionally difficult to really lie to Philip. The other man had gotten far more out of him than any psychiatrist had, so, while he was hardly an emotional person, he would admit to him if asked that he'd been lonely.

"I never called you a nerd. I... maybe I did, I forget. It was a while ago since we last 'hung out', Phil, I can't remember everything I said," responded the other man as he absently picked at the dried blood on his t-shirt, only realising when he scrunched his nose a bit that it stung. Though, he didn't entirely mind that. Sometimes, with all the medication he was on, he didn't feel anything at all. Pain, therefore, was often welcome as far as he was concerned. He'd rather feel something than nothing at all.

"I don't want to go out on the town. I want to get a nice suit on, I want a nice dinner and I... I just want to stay in. You know I don't like talking to people. I don't want to be dragged out to some fancy restaurant or a bar or... or anything like that. It makes me uncomfortable. Do you want me to feel uncomfortable, Phil?"

 

[saturnia pavonia]

"What if I did?" He questioned with a raised brow, though a second snort was a good enough indicator that he was being sarcastic. "Of course not. I'm not going to bring you to a party, but I was planning on going to a nice restaurant. If you don't want to do that, I won't. It's a bit disappointing, to be honest," he murmured before raising his glass.

"Were you lonely? Probably. I mean, I'm sure you made plenty of friends, had lots of meaningful conversations," he laughed. "I've had an eventful seven years, let's just leave it at that. My parents are dead and I'm the mayor, that's about it."