A/N: Honestly, I should be updating "Taking Chances", but I wanted to write some sort of psychiatric hospital one-shot, so here it is. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Square-Enix, Disney, or any of the characters in this story. Just the plot.
Warning: Swearing, Lime-y goodness.
He Can Save Me
My numb hands fumble for the keys on the coffee table. The room is pungent with the smell of disinfectent, and my wrists and ankles feel tight, like the skin is being stretched. The key goes into the brass door knob, and I have to bite my lip so I wouldn't scream out in pain. It's excruitating to even flick my wrist.
I step out onto the front porch, and I feel like I will collapse any moment. I stagger off the steps, landing face first onto the sidewalk with a moan. I lay my palms down, trying to bring up my weight and get back on my feet. My back arches, but my black Converse flail with a screech, and I'm back on my stomach. My white sweater is beaded with the gray gravel that ocassionaly comes off from sidestreets and onto sidewalks. My indigo jeans are torn and my nose is bleeding steadily, my head throbbing.
On the other side of the street, I see a man. His hair is sticking in all sorts of different directions, his hair so vivid red it makes my headache worse, making me clamp a hand to my forehead, shutting my eyes tight. I hear footsteps. I squirm as a long, fragile hand invades my hair, stroking it with bony fingers.
"Shh, it's alright."
But I know it isn't.
The world beneath me starts to shake. I can hear things fall- houses, cars, people screaming- everything is crumbling. I open my eyes. I'm flipped over, on my back now, falling into the depths of oblivion.
The man with the headaching hair. He stays in place.
My eyes open. I'm back in reality.
The real reality is I'm strapped to a bed, four pointed, with straps around my wrists and ankles, in the state hospital. The man with the red hair is above me, his bony hand in my mess of blonde hair.
"Shh, it's alright."
Tears fog my eyes, so I shut them tight, and let everything fall freely from my face, including the blood dripping from my nose.
"Nurse, can I have some tissues, please?" Porcupine Head calls. I forget his real name, so that's what I've nicknamed him. Porcupine Head.
PorcupineHeadiscute. The words jumble together in my brain.
Myfuckeduphead. Those words jumble together, too. The words I hate.
I blush at the thought of calling him cute, even though my face is already flushed from all the straining and screaming I've done in the past hour.
"Shh, it's okay." Porcupine Head wipes off the tears, then the blood, which has now stopped it's massive stream of red ickyness down Roxas' face.
That is my name, right? Roxas.
I open my eyes, everything coming in a blur. I tilt my head up, looking at the square, flourescent lighting on the ceiling. Whimpers vibrate on my lips.
"Babe, it's okay." Wait. Hold up. One moment, please. Did a guy just call me babe?
Well, I'm not surprised. I must be mucho sexy right now. Mental patient is so in this season. I try to chuckle to myself, but it doesn't find its way out of my achy, dry throat.
"Are you ready to go back in group?" He asks. I nod. I sigh when I feel the leather cuffs unravel their way off my body. He takes my hand and lifts me off the bed. I stumble as I stand up, my legs still feeling like Jell-O. His hand has a warm vipers grip around mine, whose is barely holding onto anything. We walk out my bedroom, the one only fit for a crazy bastard like me, and turn to the right, only walking a few yards into the group room, passing the nurses desk and white board with all of the patient's names on the way, my bare feet gliding on the mint green tile floor the whole time.
Porcupine Head leads me to one of the stained brown chairs in the middle of the room that are all arranged in a grotesque circle. I sit down, folding my palms in my lap, and staring at them. It's embarrassing to look at anything but yourself or the floor when you're crazy like me.
I notice that Porcupine Head takes a seat in the corner of the room, keeping his eyes trained on me.
"Okay, so does anyone have any issues today?" The group leader asks. I can't remember his name, only his hair color. Much like Porcupine Head, his hair is all over the place, except a silverish color. His nickname- I haven't thought of one yet. I don't think he deserves one. I hate the therapists here.
You're probably thinking, isn't Axel- I mean Porcupine Head- a therapist? No, he is my one-to-one. That means he's a staff member here, but instead of one staff member watching, say, seven of us at a time, I get my own. Because I'm just that special- I mean crazy.
No one raised their hand when group leader, therapist, whatever, asked if we had any issues.
Uh oh. He's going to call on-
"Roxas." See. I knew he was going to call on me. I knew it.
I don't look up, just stay staring at my hands.
"Why were you in four points just now?" And I knew he was going to bring that up. Honestly, I wish someone had an issue today. Usually, I hate listening to people go on and on about whatever, but I don't want the attention on me. You should never want any form or sort of attention on you in a place like this.
"I-I don't remember." The words stutter out of my mouth, barely a whisper.
"Speak up. I couldn't hear you."
God, somebody say something!
"I don't remember." The words are half-audible.
"Xemnas, I have an issue." The flamboyant guy with the pink hair raises his hand. Don't remember his name.
"Marluxia, we'll get to you next. We're on Roxas right now." I can feel everyone's gaze on me.
"I said, I don't remember." My words are hushed, with a hint of anger in them.
Xemnas- that is his name, right?- moves on to Marluxia- hope that's his name- and I completely ignore his issue, which literally takes up the whole group. God, he talks a lot.
When the therapy session is dismissed, I stay in my seat until everyone except Axel- his name came into my head about five minutes ago- leaves. When he walks towards me, I lean over my chair and fall to the floor, my limbs like Play Dough. This gets him every time. First, he gently shakes my shoulder, and says, "Get up, kid". When that doesn't work, he carries me in his arms, and takes me to the staff office, putting me in one of the swivel chairs. Then, he says, "If you don't quit playing me, I'm going to spin you around and around until you throw your guts up". Usually, by this time, I open my eyes and smirk at him, and then he takes me to dinner. But, if I'm still playing dead, he really does spin the chair around and around and around.
I don't see why he hasn't gotten sick yet of playing my games.
After dinner, I go back to my room to take a shower. Then I usually chill out in the lounge and maybe watch a movie with everyone else. But maybe, I go crazy. To fuck with Axel.
When the movie's over, I go back to my room and wait until it's time to take my medicine. Then Axel comes in and says it's time for my medicine. So I go to the nurses station. Take my pill. Or that's what they think.
I'm walking back to my room, down the hallway. I take the pill out of my mouth and slip it up my sleeve. And who catches this but Axel.
He steps in front of me and says, "Roxas, if you do not take your pill right now I am going to put you in seclusion". I shake my head and start running the opposite way, just to fuck with Axel.
Did I mention how much I love fucking with Axel?
I run into the lounge and jump over the couch, Axel hot on my trail. I run for the bookshelf, and knock that over, almost hitting Axel's feet. He calls for help, and I run out of the lounge room. I know the drill by now.
Axel called for the nurse to come, so I run into my room and hop in the shower. This way they won't give me a shot to sedate me or whatever.
When I'm done with my shower, Axel is waiting outside the door. Before I have the chance to run, he picks me up and carries me to the seclusion room, and shuts the door. I slump to the floor, my head in my hands, Axel in the corner with me.
"I knew what you were going to do, Roxas. You're so easy to read." He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it.
"You know you're not suppose to have that kind of stuff here." I scold him.
"I've been working here a while. And what they don't know won't hurt them." He smirks, taking a long drawl from his smoking stick.
"Oh, you're such a good influence, Axel." I roll my eyes.
"I bet if you had one of these you'd be a lot calmer."
"Oh, so now you want me to smoke, too?" I add flirt in my tone. He growls.
"Did I say that?"
"No, but you implied it."
"Well, I should break the habit anyway, but it's too hard."
"And you're telling me this because...?"
"I have a lot on my mind right now, Roxas. I need to let it out, somehow."
"And talking to a psych patient about it. What a good form of therapy."
"You're not crazy. You just like to do stupid shit and fuck with people."
"Like breaking my house arrest."
"Exactly." He finishes his cigarrette, not bothering to put the butt in his pockets.
"I would kiss you right now, but I your breath smells like shit." I flirt with him.
"Please, Rox. I'm way to old for you."
"I'm seventeen."
"And I'm twenty six. Think about it."
I do think about it. I think about how his soft lips would feel and how his cigarrette breath would play at my tongue and how his warm hands would feel on my face and how he would like it if I put my hand up his shirt and caressed his nipples between my fingers.
I give him a flirty look, raising my eyebrows.
Axel leans in, his lips inches from mine. He's like the hawk and I'm the mouse. I don't care if he eats me right now. I guess I'm a suicidal mouse.
His lips press mine roughly and my wrists are pinned up against the hard tile wall of the crazy room and then are tongues wrestle and I slowly bring one of my hands down to slide up his shirt but not before he grabs it and pins it back up against the wall.
I must admit, I like his dominance.
"Let me have a nipple," I whisper harshly as our mouths pull away, and he takes his shirt off and I pounce into him, his back hitting the padded floor. I don't really get why the wall is so hard but the floor is so soft.
My tongue darts up his chest and Axel moans, his body shivering and goosebumps are on his arms. His legs wrap against mine and I fall down onto his body, my palms on his torso and leaving faint kisses on his neck.
He unwraps his legs and stands up, pulling me up with him, only for me to be pushed back down and invaded again, every part of me touched.
Axel does everything with such control, such percission, such movement and swiftness and it's so beautiful and hot and sexy and it turns me on so much.
"Axel, f-fuck me!" I moan, the words escaping my lips with a drawl, and he huffs, and says something I can't hear and unintelligible.
Our chemistry is so high. We've known it since we first me. I came in with a police escort, what, five weeks ago? And he gave me a tour and everything. And then I found out he was going to be my one-to-one, and I was like, oh shit, I can't handle this, and I went crazy, like I do everyday.
You see, I overexaggerate everything, like I blow everything out of proportion. What happened was, about two months ago, I got on house arrest for getting into a fight at school- it was pretty bad, mind you- and then I broke that, and I went to juvie for like, two days, and then they sent me here to get an evaluation. I should've been out a month ago but no, I'm just so fucked up.
My hands found their way into Axel's hair and his arms were wrapped around my tiny waist and are lips were sucking on each others and we were both hard like crazy.
So hard it was hurting. I had to have him. We needed to be apart of each other, physically. I couldn't handle the mentally part right now.
He fipped me over, and clothes came off, and I can't describe to you in words how it felt. I can, however, do a play by play with grunts and moans and screams, if you wish.
When it was all over with, I was out of breath, but the words came out.
"He can save me."