A/N: Hello! I've read plenty of Homestuck Fanfics and decided that it was about time for me to actually sit down and write one! This AU idea randomly came to me as I was stupidly hitting my head against the railing of a bunk bed so if it's crap, you know why. But I hope you enjoy it anyways!
~Hilda :)
"The patient in Room 413!" A nurse exclaimed hastily. "Doctor, he's hurting himself!"
The doctor to which the flustered nurse was speaking, looked up with wide eyes and concern creasing his forehead. He immediately arose from his seat and followed the panicked nurse out of his office and into the hallway.
He didn't need to rack his brain to remember who was in Room 413. He knew the patient all too well and because of this, he suspected something like this to happen soon enough. His patient was a strong one – a relentless one. He was not above killing himself in front of the entire staff, just to spite them. And that was a dangerous trait, indeed. Doctor Makara picked up the pace, walking ahead of the nurse that had alerted him to Mr. Vantas' disruption. The doctor was a couple heads taller than the nurse's slight form – one of his strides equaled three of hers. But the small fidgety nurse followed closely behind, right on his heels.
The room was only a few doors away but even from here, Doctor Makara could hear other nurses' pleads, suppressed yells, and the thuds. The thuds were accompanied with stubborn grunts but with each thud, Doctor Makara's heart tightened. Oh no…
All but ramming through the white door, the sight that met the doctor's eyes made him gasp. It wasn't because all the furniture in the room had been turned over and stacked atop each other; it wasn't because said stacks of crisp, white and glossy furniture had been strategically placed around a sole chair in the farthest corner of the room like a makeshift fort, which kept the exasperated nurses away. It was because that on top of the chair, away from the doctor's grasp as he moved closer, stood his patient, Karkat Vantas, with his back to the medical staff, and with both hands on the wall on either side of his head.
Thud.
Karkat Vantas was banging his head against the wall – hard.
Thud—CRACK.
Thin trails of blood ran down the wall to meet the floor. Doctor Makara could not see Karkat's face but he was sure it was also stained red. The doctor opened his mouth to say something but no words formed.
Thud.
His heart stopped altogether. Doctor Makara wanted to cry.
"Karkat, please!" Nurses continually pleaded, trying to get over the fort of furniture that separated them. "Karkat, you're hurting yourself! Stop, Karkat! Kark– "
"IF YOU SAY MY NAME ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR I'LL–" Karkat interrupted himself by growling wildly. His fingers clawed against the wall, wishing he could claw through it – wishing he could escape. He trembled as a new, fresh wave of fury overcame him and unsure of what to threaten the stupid nurses with, he decided to take the anger out on himself. Again. THUD. Again. He hated himself. THUD. He hated that his tear-ducts betrayed him and that he was crying. THUD. He hated that it hurt so badly. He hate, hate, HATED IT.
THUDTHUDTHUDTH–
Before his head could hit the wall again, he was falling. He was falling backwards but when he opened his eyes, all he saw was red.
He hated the color red.
Doctor Makara ignored his charge's flailing limbs as he grasped the smaller man tightly and cradled his body close. He barked at the nurses to clear a path for him as he felt Karkat's screams and protests weaken. Looking down at his face, Doctor Makara's gut twisted. It was painted the most brilliant color of red that had leaked from the gashes and cracks on his forehead. The corners of the doctor's eyes prickled with tears as he noticed Karkat's own tears mixing in with the blood on his face – still streaming down his cheeks even after blacking out.
But Karkat's stillness only fed the panic in the air. And panic, Doctor Makara did.
~/~
Doctor Makara ran a shaky hand through his hair as he sat outside the door of the small clinic on the sixth floor. He looked around the hallway – wide and bright with white tile flooring that gleamed and glistened under the intense fluorescent lights. The wall before him was white as well, save for the pale yellow trimmings and outlines that swirled across the wallpaper in barely noticeable and indiscernible shapes and patterns. The walls of Noir's Mental Institution weren't all the same – they differed slightly in color (from floor to floor and area to area) in a pattern only the doctors understood. For example, the white hallway walls on the second floor were lined and trimmed in a pale blue. Pale blue trimming and other cyan details said the patients housed in that particular wing on that particular floor were tame and accepting, nonviolent – and mostly older folk. If you travelled one story up, on the third floor, the white walls sported a dull lime green detailing, marking the floor on which mostly those who were not only mentally sick, but also physically sick, resided. The first floor, however, was off-limits to patients unless they were outgoing or incoming, deeming the need to have a certain color scheme for the walls down there unnecessary. On the first floor, also, was the lobby, the doctors' offices, the staff locker-rooms and various lounges, and another small clinic. A lot of the medical staff lived right on the hospital campus, as well, in a different building a few acres away from the main hospital. Here at Noir's, the doctors tended to become very close to their patients, but it was not entirely recommended. Especially when befriending a patient on the fourth and fifth floor. Although it made Doctor Makara's heart sink whenever he heard it, he knew it was true: The patients on the fourth and fifth floors had no hope for recovery. Their causes were lost ones – as dull as the diluted lavender color that graced their hallway walls. The mere thought made the tall, lanky doctor gulp and shift uncomfortably in his plastic seat.
There had to be hope.
Doctor Makara jumped up from his seat when a woman walked through the clinic door. He searched her face, desperate for an answer to the question he hadn't yet voiced. The woman closed the door behind her silently and then proceeded to absentmindedly flatten out the wrinkles in her skirt with her free hand. The other held a clipboard, which she skimmed over before looking up at the much taller doctor and giving him a soft smile.
"Don't worry yourself, Gamzee," She said reassuringly. "He didn't do any serious damage to himself, even if the stitches look a little scary. Nevertheless, we must increase his dosage of medication–"
Doctor Makara opened his mouth to interject but the woman quickly finished.
"–for his, and everyone's, sake." Her expression dared him to counter.
Instead, he just sighed. "I understand, Aradia, but I don't think he can take any more fucking meds. It's cruel what we're doing to him."
"It's cruel what he's doing to us!" Aradia snapped, making Gamzee flinch. "He could have killed himself today! And nevermind him, think of our friends. The nurses today are probably scarred for life. Oh, didn't you hear about what that little devil did to Nurse Pyrope? He blinded her! Saying that 'it was her destiny to be blind' and that 'she wasn't allowed to see'." Aradia scoffed. "It took not two but three male nurses to hold him down so that I could sedate him. Vantas has no mercy, Gamzee."
Doctor Makara's jaw tightened. "You just don't understand him. It's a miracle how far he's made it, how much he's improved!"
She shook her head in disbelief. "I honestly don't know how you do it. How can you be in the same room with him for hours on end and emerge unscathed? Completely unharmed? How can you even stand his incessant yelling?" Her eyes closed and her mouth twisted in distaste remembering how loud and insufferable the deranged human was. It hurt her ears just thinking about it.
"I do just fine," Gamzee said plainly. He changed the subject. "How long until he's out of the clinic?"
Aradia sighed and handed her coworker the clipboard. "Until tomorrow. We must also see to clearing his room and putting it back together. Unless you allow us to give him a fresh, new room." She let Gamzee flip through the papers, knowing he was displeased with the whole situation. Once he got to the last page, Aradia stopped him and pointed at the blank line at the bottom of it. "Please, Gamzee, sign here to clear Karkat for his extra dosages."
Gamzee looked at her with a sad, small fire struggling to stay lit in his eyes.
"You're his doctor, his guide," She said softly. "It must be you who authorizes it."
He wanted to fight but deep down he knew Doctor Megido was right. Gamzee sighed again. "My doctor/patient visits with him will increase to four times a week, instead of two." He pulled out a pen and signed his name on the line. "Make it happen."
And without another word, nor another look in the eye, Doctor Makara handed Doctor Megido the clipboard and walked away.
~/~
Karkat opened his sore eyes to see golden sunshine flooding his room from the window. His room… It was not the same as his previous bedroom. The door was to the right, not to his left. The window was on the left too, which felt wrong. Even the nightstand was on the opposite side. Nothing was as it should have been. Karkat scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion and slight panic. Nothing was the same. He sat up abruptly and also realized that his right wrist was tied to the bed's side-railing. He gasped at the sight of the leather belt. Oh no! He couldn't have been restraint! Yet… he was. Hesitantly, his left hand came over to touch the leather strap. Why was he…? The memory of what he had done yesterday (was it yesterday?) surged back into his mind and he immediately felt terrible. Felt terrible for causing so much trouble, and for letting his anger get the better of him. His head felt terrible too. But Karkat knew that the pain was not as strong as it should have been. The nurses had probably doped him up with some morphine or something to help deal with the pain when he awoke. Knowing that he had been harassed and moved around while he was unconscious made him more uncomfortable than any kind of physical pain could have. But he was used to it. He stopped getting pissed off for being forcibly knocked out by the nurses a long time ago.
Karkat sighed and lied back down. Looking up, Karkat almost gagged in horror.
Even the ceiling of this room was different.
He turned over onto his side and buried his face into the unfamiliar pillow. A dry sob threatened to break through his chest. They had moved him into a different room. They had taken him out of his comfort zone – nothing in this space was familiar. Everything was foreign, grey, and uninviting.
Karkat gulped; he knew what this meant. If they didn't trust him before, they certainly didn't trust him now. And trust was a very difficult thing to gain here. Especially from the nurses and… his doctor. Karkat's eyes widened against his pillow as his entire body tensed. Doctor Makara! How was he ever going to get Doctor Makara to trust him now? Doctor Makara was the only person who ever showed Karkat genuine care and concern! The only person who wanted to help him! The only person that even seemed to believe him. But now, after what Karkat had done… He had ruined everything. Karkat screamed into his pillow, gripping at the ends of it with his fists and thrashing around in his bed. He hated himself.
How could he have been so stupid?
It wasn't long before his screaming had turned into crying, and his thrashing into trembling.
Why did he have to be so terrible?
A/N: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AND I HOPE YOU CRIED. Well no you didn't have to cry but I hope you're intrigued! Please leave reviews!
Suggestions would be much obliged because the way I left this idea so open, leaves room for many many plot twists and essentially, because I don't have a definitive plot idea idea yet, this story could go anywhere. So, suggest away! (Although, I need GamKar to happen eventually but I'm not sure if I want it to be pale or red yet O_O"...guess we'll have to see!) Critique is good too! Thanks!
I'll hopefully update soon3
~Hilda :)