Disclaimer: I know nothing, I own nothing, I only do what the voices in my head tell me.
A/N: I would like to thank everyone who reviewed. A special thanks to Dinni who's comment made me blush to high Heavens. I read your poem on your bio and it was soo great! And, to Ikhny87, I'm a girl, so err, sorry. But I'm glad you like the story! If you can't tell I'm smiling and waving like an idiot, but since this formatting crap sucks, it won't let me put stars! Now I'm grumbling about the unfairness of it all.
He sighed heavily, staring up at the cracks on the ceiling. Groaning softly to himself he stood up, taking his bag with him and walked over to the wooden dresser. He opened the top drawer and peered inside, frowning when he saw stacks of white clothing. He lifted his hand to pick up one of what appeared to be shirts, but looking down at his grimy palms, he decided that might not be the best idea. He really did hate white.
Placing his hand on the top of his dark pants, he began rubbing his palm on the fabric furiously, trying to get rid of as much dirt as he could so that he would not leave any incriminating evidence. Lifting his hand again, he inwardly nodded with approval and once again reached into the drawer. He pulled out a t-shirt and scanned it up and down. It was probably a size larger then what he wore, so any thoughts of borrowing his roommates clothing were out of the question. Not that he'd thought about that. How low would a person have to be to think about stealing…borrowing…clothes from people they'd never even met? Probably as low as him.
He attempted to fold the shirt, but failed miserably. Muttering a profanity he placed the shirt back in the drawer and shut it. He opened the next drawer, only to see it was filled with white pants. 'You've got to be kidding me. Oh Kami, please don't tell me I'm living with some psycho who only wears white.' He kneeled down a bit in order to get to third drawer. A load groan filled the room as he saw that this drawer, too, was completely full. Though, not with white shirts or pants. It was filled with several different styles of boxers. Blue, yellow, red, green…those moose from Brother Bear? What the hell? With a sort of startled gasp he quickly shut it.
Reaching the fourth and final drawer, he carefully opened it, making sure that it was empty. Sighing with relief, he opened his bag and proceeded to dump it's contents into the empty drawer. With a small, self-satisfied smile, he began to shut it, only to find that it wouldn't close completely. He shrugged, the fact not bothering him. He hoped that his roommate wasn't some type of neat-freak.
He stood up again and stretched his arms over his head, slightly relaxing as he felt his tense back muscles popping. The door swung open, causing him to snap his attention towards the entrance of his room. In the entry stood a man completely dressed in white, with long silver hair pulled back into a pony tail. At first, he thought it was one of the orderlies and was prepared to throw a pillow at whomever it was who was going to disrupt his 'me-time'. He watched as the man shut the door and slowly stepped inside the room. The unknown man looked at him, his golden eyes staring at him impassively before he turned on his heel and flopped down on the bed opposite his own. Standing for a few moments, he just blinked at the silver haired man, waiting for him to do something. A minute passed and the man had said nothing. Taking it as a sign that he was supposed to be the one to break the ice, he approached the man cautiously.
Unsure of what to do, he stood above him. The man didn't move, only laid still, his eyes fixated on the wall. "Hey," he said finally. He received no answer, only a kind of grunt, which he assumed meant hello. Content with this form of speech, he went to sit on the edge of his own bed. "So…I guess we're roommates." There was another grunt, one which he took as a sort of yes. "What's your name?" He wondered if the man was actually going to answer this question, or if he was just going to reply with another wordless grunt. He hoped not. Suppose he had to speak to this man in the hallway. The image of himself, standing in the hallway, jumping up and down as he waved his hand, grunting as he did so, wasn't very appealing.
"Did they not tell you who you would be rooming with?" the man questioned.
The sound of him speaking surprised him, and he nearly fell to the floor. Quickly gripping the sheets -the damned white sheets- he steadied himself. "No," he answered. "Actually, no one told me much of anything," he said with a frown, remembering the nurses who passed him by with not so much as a glance.
"Sesshomaru," he answered.
He nodded, then stopped, the name sounding very familiar, and yet very not. Where could he have heard it before? One of Naraku's messenger boys, maybe a client? No. A waiter at the restaurant, or maybe someone whom he had waited on before? No. Then, suddenly, a memory came back to him.
Ah…bastard! Why did you have to do that? Use a coaster! Damn it Sesshomaru, you fluffy fucker!
Ah yes, that was it. He furrowed his brow. The silver hair, the golden eyes, the obvious attitude problem, though this Sesshomaru didn't seem to be as angry as the other.
"Do you know anyone named…Inuyasha?" he questioned.
The man turned to him then, his face a stoic mask as he sat up. "Yes," he answered slowly after a few moments. "Why?"
"Oh uh, no reason. I was just wondering. You kind of reminded me of him." Upon hearing the sort of growling that the other man made, he quickly took back his comment. "I mean, looked like him, a little."
"I look nothing like the mutt," he hissed.
He blinked for a few moments. Staring in confusion, he watched as Sesshomaru turned back over on his side. A small smile tugged his lips upwards, and he tried to contain his laughter. Eventually, he fell over on the bed and buried his face into the pillow. The silver haired man turned back over to stare at him, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance.
"And what, prey tell, do you find so funny?"He giggled, not being able to hold it back any longer. "You're Inuyasha's brother," he said as he sat up.
Narrowing his golden eyes, Sesshomaru asked, "So?"
"It's just…" he began, laughing softly. "You…well…"
"What?" he growled, quickly losing patience with his new roommate.
With a soft smile, he gazed up, his purple eyes locking with gold. "Why does he call you Fluffy?"
And all Hell broke loose in room 279 of the Sunny Pines Rehabilitation Center.
----
A buzzing sound entered his ears, floating around his mind, causing him to open his eyes a bit. He tilted his head a bit, looking up to see a black alarm clock on the dresser. A song drifted through the air, filling up the room with an annoyingly happy 80's song. Narrowing his purple eyes at the object, he placed his hand on top of it and, making sure he had a firm enough grip, proceeded to pull the alarm clock out of the wall. Sighing with his content, he plopped back down on the bed and buried his face in the pillows, intent on catching up with some much needed beauty sleep.
"Morning sleeping beauty," someone said from above him.
He groaned into the pillows beneath him and slowly turned over on his side. Squinting his dark eyes, he made out the figure of a woman dressed in white, her long silver hair spilling out past her shoulders. 'Am I dreaming? Why would such a lovely woman be waking me up?'
"Get up!"
Surprised by the woman's not-so-womanly yell he fell out of the bed, hitting his forehead on the side of the table. Cursing underneath his breath he placed his hand on his head and glared up at the person who had woken him.
"Was that completely nessacary?" he questioned as he rubbed his temples. Staggering a bit, he lifted himself back to the bed.
Sesshomaru stared down at him, unblinking and uncaring that he appeared to be injured. "Breakfast," he said simply.
He turned to the other man, hiding his laughter of first mistaking him for a woman. "In bed?" he questioned with a small smile. "Oh honey, you shouldn't have."
The silver haired man sighed in annoyance and turned to walk out the door. He tossed a glance back at him, speaking loudly so he would gain his attention. "You should be there. If you're not, you'll get a demerit."
"Demerit?" he questioned. "What is this, grade school? They don't really give us demerits."
"They do, they have, they will."
Still rubbing his head he watched Sesshomaru disappear through the doorway. 'That guy is creepy.' At this decision he shrugged, happy that at least he didn't have to share a room with some crazy guy like he'd had to last time he was at one of these places. He stood up, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and walked over to the mirror which hung above the dresser. There were dark circles underneath his eyes -as well as a bruise from where Sesshomaru had hit him; apparently he really disliked being called Fluffy- and his skin was paler then usual, making him look more like a walking corpse then just a sleep-deprived druggie. But hey, what was really the difference? If he did look dead, then he looked exactly like he felt.
He ran a hand through his hair and then decided screw it. It's not as if he was trying to impress anyone. He was going to have to a find a way out of here soon anyway. After brushing his teeth and throwing on a new shirt and boxers he headed out the door. He wandered around the hall for five minutes, still lost in the just-woke-up-at-six-in-the-morning daze. When he finally reached the cafeteria, he was ready to pass back out in his bowl of Cheerios.
But, of course, he was in rehab he reminded himself. They weren't good enough for Cheerios. Not the real kind, anyway. The cheap kind that came in bags, the ones that didn't have any sugar on them and were too stale to eat anyway, that was what they got. Sort of like him he mused idly. 'How pathetic can you get? You're comparing yourself to old cereal now. Not even the kind with a brand name. You haven't been in this place one full day and already it's fucking with your brain. What you have left of it anyway.'
Poking his cereal with his spoon, he decided to screw that too and pushed it away, instead letting his forehead hit the cool surface of the table. Though, re-thinking it, maybe he should have left the bowl where it was. After all, then maybe he would have fallen asleep. Drowning in the cereal, so much more of a dignifying way to die then jumping out of a speeding car.
"You should really try eating that."
At first he thought it might have been Sesshomaru again, and he was prepared to pay him back for some of the hits he'd taken last night when he'd been too tired to hit back. When he lifted his head he saw the woman again. She was wearing a different pair of scrubs this time, the colors still pink and green, which he believed was a very unusual combination, but what was he, a fashion critic? She smiled at him in an almost sickeningly sweet way, making him glad he hadn't eaten his breakfast, or else the contents would have probably left him anyway.
"Not hungry," he said gruffly.
She sat down by him, her smile fading just a bit, looking a fraction more genuine. "I can understand why," she said, looking at the bowl and wrinkling her nose. "I hear lunch is supposed to be better though."
"What are we having?" he questioned.
"Chicken," she answered smiling. He stared at her for a few moments, his expression blank before he allowed his head to drop to the table again. She sighed a little. 'This one is going to be harder then he looks.' A feeling of determination settled in her, causing her to smile a bit. She could tell by the looks of him, when she had first seen him wandering in the halls, that all he really needed was someone to care. "So…" she began, attempting to get him into a conversation. "You're first group therapy session today. Did Sesshomaru tell you about it?"
He lifted his head again to look her in the eyes. Upon seeing she was actually serious he raised his eyebrow. "Um, no. He's not exactly Mr. Talkative."
She laughed quietly, her smile widening. "No, he's not. Well, it's not really as bad as you might think." He continued staring at her, his expression blank as he blinked once or twice. She sighed again in defeat. "Okay, so it's bad."
"How bad exactly?" he questioned. He'd been to them before, but of course he'd been stoned so many times since then, his brain cells weren't exactly working correctly.
"Really bad," she admitted. "But it does help. After awhile, I think you'll start to like it. After a few weeks, even Sesshomaru started to open up."
'Sesshomaru? Opening up?' Now there was a scary thought. She smiled at him and patted his shoulder. He tensed immediately, and had he been awake enough, he probably would have quickly flinched away. She noticed his uneasiness and frowned a bit. 'I hope I'll be able to help him eventually.'
----
He stared around the room, his eyes lingering on each face for only a few seconds before he looked to another person.
"I see we have a new face with us today," Dr. -and he used that term lightly- Takahashi said, his bright smile plastered to his face much as it was every day. He nodded towards him. Not feeling up to starting this little meet and greet, he just raised his hand in a small wave. A few others waved back to him with excitement. "Well, who would like to start?" The doctor nodded towards the silver haired man, who begrudgingly began to stand.
"Hello, my name is Sesshomaru."
"Hello Sesshomaru!"
Stifling a giggle as he watched the other man's eyebrow twitch at the shrill chorus of voices that greeted him, he quickly quieted and listened for him to continue.
"And I am here because I have an addiction to pain killers."
As he took his seat, the rest of the group began clapping, and a few whistles from some of the female occupants filled the room. He simply stared impassively at them and went back to glaring at the 'sharing rug' which was on the floor.
"And, why do you think you have this addiction Sesshomaru?" Dr. Takahashi questioned.
Narrowing his golden eyes, he simply questioned, "Have you met my brother?"
Ignoring the question and, scowling at the silver haired man, he moved on to the others in the room. Finally he came to him, much to his dismay. With a smile, the elderly "doctor" -again, using the term, very, very lightly- encouraged him to stand.
"Hi," he said slowly as he stood up. "My name is Jerry Lewis."
"Hi Jerry!"
"I am here because my addiction to pixie sticks has made me a danger to society."
A few gasps of disbelief, snickers, and giggles erupted from the circle. Sesshomaru just shook his head as a ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. Fuming, Dr. Takahashi stood up, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him out of the room.
"Hey!" he yelled trying to pull away from the doctor. "Let go of me you psycho. Get your damn hands off of me!" Just as he was about to yell another protest he was grabbed roughly by the collar and pushed into the wall. He winced in pain as the doorknob hit his back. "What the hell is your problem?" he nearly growled.
"You are," the doctor replied, narrowing his eyes in an almost threatening way. He stood up straighter, taking in a deep breath. "Do you think your funny kid? You're not here to make jokes."
"Then what am I here for, huh, old man?" he questioned.
Clenching the back of his teeth together the man raised his hand as if he was going to hit him. Smirking a bit as he winced he lowered his arm, instead grasping his chin and forcing him to look into his eyes.
"To get some help," he said, his voice dripping with sweetness that made him cringe. Releasing his chin, the doctor lightly hit his face. With a smirk, he hit him a bit harder, leaving a stinging sensation and a slight redness on his pale skin. "Now, I expect a serious attitude. I'm helping you here, and I don't need any more problems."
Dr. Takahashi turned on his heel and headed back into the therapy room, muttering about difficult druggies underneath his breath. As soon as the doctor had shut the door he turned and slammed his fist into the wall, cursing angrily as he pulled a bloodied knuckle back to him.
'Damn bastard. I knew this place wouldn't be any different. Why'd I let myself think that maybe…maybe this time…'
As soon as she saw he and Dr. Takahashi in the hall, alarm bells began to ring in her mind. 'What's that crazy doctor going to do now?' She began walking towards them, breaking into a run when it looked as if the elder man was about to strike the other. 'If he lays one hand on him I'll slap him all the way to the Feudal Era.' Calming herself, she watched the doctor head back into the room. She watched him for a little bit longer, wincing as he hit the wall, before she cautiously approached him.
The sound of footsteps caused him to whirl around, only to have him come face to face with that woman he had seen the day earlier and at breakfast. 'What is she doing here?' For a while the two just stared at each other, neither wishing to say anything.
"Did you…want something?" he questioned, trying to keep himself calm. 'I could at least try to be nice to her. After all, she's one of the only people I've ever met who isn't treating me like some worthless garbage.'
She nodded a bit, then leaned back on her heels, peering through the small window into the room of patients. "Actually," she said with a soft smile. Walking towards him, she gently wrapped her arm in his. Stunned, he could only gap at her as she began leading him down one of the halls. "I was wondering if maybe you would like to enter a different kind of therapy?"
He just stared at her, not really knowing what to say. 'This could be interesting.' With a sly, perverted smile, his hand slid from her arm to other areas of her body.
"I think I would like that very much."
Slap.
"Not that way you pervert," she told him, straightening the top of her scrubs. Holding his stinging cheek, he watched in confusion and slight amazement as she once again gave him a warm smile. "Now, if you'll follow me, I think we'll need to have a talk with Mrs. Kurosawa."
Too many weeds in the flowers
Too many pills in the pharmacy now
Too many bugs in the shower
There's too much shit in the air we breathe now
There's too much anger inside me
There's too much scarring when I bleed
There's too much therapy I need
There is no God that I have seen
There's too much doubt in my mom's words
There's too much fear in the way she sees life
I wonder if I'm just like her
I wonder if I can make myself right
You try to help
You listen well
You cannot change the way I see
Therapy: (drum roll please) Smile Empty Soul