Thank you to all who are taking the time to read this! This is a rewritten version of my previous fanfic, Clorox Bleach. It's.. Interesting to rewrite this, really. I'm mostly interested with doing art for this hah…
Please enjoy the first chapter! I will try my best to update as soon as possible, make sure to favorite and review this story if you are at all interested in it, it does mah soul good.
He hadn't preferred the view, though no one really would if in his position. He hardly knew any other view, but seemingly being an orphan left him with curiosities about the outside world. Light bounced and reflected in a perfectly serene room. The room was simple; as simple as teen's bedrooms were, of course. Two windows sat straight across from the door, lined in black metal. The windows were permanently opened, as the shades sat inside the middle of two bullet proof acrylic slabs of window. This allowed sun to always come in, and he didn't quite mind, especially at night, when the vast city was lit up and available for his creative mind to soak in.
The walls were an odd pastel green at the bottom, 3/4 the way up the wall was plain white. Matching the walls, the floor was also a dull white tile without any spec or colour. The room was empty, save for a screwed down wooden bed and matching wooden desk. The bed had upon it a cold blue mattress and sheets with a matching blue quilt. A thin, pale body laid fetal position in the center of the bed. The sound of the shades on the door opening and closing were the only sound echoing through the hollowed room. Screams and laughter started to echo through the hall, loud yet muffled by his walls.
He stirred. Eyes screwed shut in a scowl as he attempted to fall back into unconsciousness.
"It's 7:00am already. You need to be up. Wait in line for a shower and allow us to get your vitals before breakfast." a voice resounded after a creaking of the door. His frame shot up into a sitting position, disgruntled, he stretched out his limbs and combed a hand through a mop of unruly orange hair. Hesitant because of the light, he slowly opened his eyes to reveal pools of violet and grey. His features fell dull, no scowl or smile, but a still stare out the window as the smoke of working facilities and clouds blocked his view of the outside world. He head sunk down as if his neck gave way to exhaustion. Slowly he rolled his head to face the door on the opposite end of the room.
He saw his reflection in the closed blinds of his door. He was young. He knew his own age, 14, though he always looked at himself in reflections and wondered when he'd really stand out as a man. He smoothed out his hair quickly, allowing it to settle in a more neutral position that left it less than unkept and spiky. Reaching to the wooden cutouts under his bed, he grabbed a red sweatshirt and pair of socks to change into. He skipped showering, which his nurse would obviously scold him, for none of the workers would put it om his chart as a finished chore.
Straightening his form to seem taller than he was, he crossed his arms at the chill of the cold hospital and reached for the door handle. Noise assaulted his features immediately. Children of all ages made their way past him in different speeds, overwhelming him with their presence. He was an introvert, he knew that much, and the crowd of children storming in immediately began to tire him out.
He kept to himself, a small scowl growing on his face out of irritation. Most of these kids were like siblings to him, but he was a natural only child. He kept out of the middle of the hall and made his way to the main lounge where psych techs were waiting with two machines for taking vitals. He stood in line with a bored look, gazing upon the lunch tables laid out. They would be separated by groups as to allow less mentally ill children to coexist in a place at once. 6 tables were laid out separate from one another, each table held 4 chairs. Most children had sat themselves down at a table instead of waiting for their vitals. Morning was long and drawn out as everyone waited in their sectors for showers, waited for others to leave showers, dressed, did chores, and of course the suspenseful waiting for the food tray to come by.
This morning, no nurses were on duty, which he thought odd. He gazed at the tv sealed away in the acrylic casing, watching the slide show of charts, who's doctor was whom's for this week, which nurse belonged to who, and the round schedule for the psych techs. Caught off guard, he felt a poke at his back that brought him back to his task at hand instead of day dreaming in a daze at the screen.
"Morning Ichi." A psych tech smiled. She was young, most psych techs were still only college students in the medical field. Her blonde hair was pilled back into a ponytail, many young blond students worked as psych techs, and as a child he had thought they were all one person until he was old enough to discern facial features.
"Morning." He replied, a small smile playing on his features. One thing he liked over the years was being close to the psych techs, they were mature, quiet, and patient, which was more than he would ever ask for and he felt lighter interacting with 'normal' people. He sat on a stool beside the psych tech and waited patiently.
"Remember your name?" The psych tech, Brooke, asked. He nodded lazily.
"Ichiro Kurosaki." He replied. Brooke gave an approving smile.
"Uncross your feet Ichi, cmon." She sighed in sarcasm, grabbing a blood pressure cuff from the basket at the top of the vital machine.
"Oh.. Sorry." Ichiro quickly murmured and he unwound his feet. Brooke pulled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wrapped the cuff around his fore arm. On the side of the basket was a small machine with a telephone cord connecting to a needle, carefully Brooke took the needle and placed a plastic strip upon it.
"Alright, put this under your tongue." She commanded, watching the vital screen. Ichiro obediently placed the needle under his tongue; it stabbed a bit at the under parts of his tongue and more than anything else he was excited to take it out.
"Your temperature is a bit low, but that seems to be something normal for you... Any pain this morning?" Brooke asked, taking the needle and disposing the plastic into a small container. Ichiro shook his head, no other pain than he was used to having for the last 10 years, and nothing the nurses could do about it.
"Next!" Brooke called out, motioning for Ichiro to leave and gazing upon the thinning line of kids. Ichiro didn't take his time getting up, he quickly moved away from the crowd and sat down at a table. It seemed the psych techs had opened the game cupboard this morning. Despite the noise, Ichiro was fond of watching the children play games, and even more so, playing the games with them.
Crossing his legs underneath him and leaning on the table, he began to drift off into a slight sleep, slight dreamlike state whilst waiting for the sound of the tray... Or more like the sound of all the children cheering at once like they had never seen food in their lives. The sound of the metal doors opening and psych techs yelling for the children to stay behind a particular red line was the first cue of breakfast approaching. A full scowl was upon Ichiro's face at this point as he placed his hands to his ears in irritation and anticipation. Children began to yell, which led as the every day ritual signal for the rest to join in and show their hunger. Screaming, banging, jumping, and stomping filled the whole wing with similar echoes further down from other wings.
"Quiet guys quiet!" A psych tech yelled, waving his arms about to at least catch their visual attention. Ichiro watched as the psych tech, Furukawa, did his part in the chaos like every morning. He enjoyed the kids and was fond of them, being a consistent figure in the morning schedule. The kids didn't have to hear Furukawa to know it was time to eat, seeing his figure next to the food cart was enough to quiet them down. Ichiro let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in as the room quieted to a normal chit chatter of overly stimulated children. Furukawa opened the first large metal car, its two doors widening to show the trays stacked neatly inside. The wing now smelled of hospital food, which wasn't as bad but the mixture of it all, along with the smell of hospital made for an interesting odor.
His large violet eyes watched as children filed out when their names were called, some returning to their rooms, some picking food before leaving the tray, others bringing their food to their clique groups. Quietly, Ichiro took his own plate, opening the black cap on his plate and reading through the different food items and calories on the receipt.
Ichiro Kurosaki
Allergies: None
One Milk
No Knives
He smirked as he read the bottom of the small paper receipt. Once the kitchen had put a knife onto his tray, Ichiro was more amused than anything but the psych techs quickly rid the wing of the small, dull, plastic item. The kitchen made few mistakes, though besides this ward and their multiple wings, the hospital had a total of 5 wards for the mentally ill. Often Ichiro found himself getting a completely different meal than what was ordered, despite the receipt telling him otherwise. Ichiro worked quickly on his eggs and oatmeal, leaving his muffin on the counter next to the sink, where the majority of older kids would leave unwanted food for either the staff or kids who wanted extras. Finishing quickly to return to his room, he sat up quickly... Too quickly perhaps, as his whole world began to spin. Motions flashing around him, Ichiro became incredibly dizzy and unaware of the floor he was standing on. He stumbled to the table and attempted to brace himself on it until his weight began to tip it. Kids began to laugh and yell as the dog piled on the other end of the table, evening it out before Ichiro fell to his knees, his tray now thrown about the floor.
"Ichiro!" Furukawa yelled, quickly pacing himself to Ichiro's side. Ichiro's vision had cleared and everything was now steady. His head ached a minor bit from the strain on his eyes, but otherwise he felt nothing out of place. He slowly made his way to his surroundings, his eyes finding Furukawa's worried face.
"Lets take your vitals again..." Furukawa said carefully, placing the tray and it contents onto the table as another psych tech made their way to clean the mess. Ichiro nodded his head and allowed himself to be dragged to a standing position by Furukawa. Ichiro wasn't sulky, nor was he confused, odd spinning spells happened once in a while and so like a robot, he followed where he was to go and sat obediently and patiently. He knew in the back of his head that someone again would be by to take his blood for testing, which was most certainly is least favorite.