Heeeere it is! Finally. Sorry it took a while lol. I don't why, but I got sad throughout this chapter... No, not sad. Anxious. Anxious for John I guess. You'll see hehe. Also, pay attention to the dates. The time period is key in this story.
Enjoy my loves!
It felt heavy outside. It was noon but the clouds were dark.
"It's sad outside." John murmured to himself. And to the shadow sitting next to him. A cigarette burned between his lips. Of course there were cigarettes at a lunatic asylum. If there weren't, the patients would just be even more unrulier.
John looked down at the shackles on his ankles. They were there as a precaution. On John's first day here, he had bolted. The guards couldn't keep up, for John was exceptionally fast. They had to shoot him with a tranquilizer. He could walk in them, but he couldn't run.
He held the burning stick between his lips and inhaled. He held in the hit before slowly releasing the smoke through his mouth. He twitched a little as a soft breathe of cold air hit his fragile body. He wrapped his arms around himself. John hated cold weather. He was from LA. He was used to warmth. The beaches. The sun. He missed it terribly.
John looked up and saw Constantine across the yard. His lip twitched and he looked away from the greasy man. Constantine always looked at John with lust and bad intentions. John's disgusted thoughts were disrupted as he noticed him. That gorgeous man, watching him.
What a beautiful human. John whispered in his thoughts.
"Randy." He murmured to himself, just to feel his name on his dry tongue. It felt lovely.
Randy noticed John as well.
"You're pathetic for staring." The voices scolded. Randy rubbed his temples and looked away from John.
"Staring's rude. Didn't Mommy and Daddy teach you that?" They chuckled. Randy's lip twitched at the mention of his parents.
"What's the matt-" They were cut off by a lovely sound.
"Randy." It breathed.
Randy jumped a little and looked up, realizing that lovely sound was John's voice. He must have walked over while Randy was internally fighting with himself. Randy didn't say anything. Mostly because he didn't know what to say to John. He tried to form words and make sense of them. But every time he did, his mind just scrambled them up again. As if making sure he couldn't speak to the man before him, or speak at all for that matter.
"May I sit?" John asked, gesturing the spot next to Randy on the bench.
Randy nodded, thankful for the "yes or no" question.
John sat, and his pale eyes scanned Randy's arms, trying to decipher the tattoos. "You're cold." John whispered and without thinking, his brushed the back of his hand over Randy's forearm, feeling the goosebumps.
Randy stiffened and pulled his arm away, shivering.
John chuckled quietly. "Don't worry. These hands won't hurt you." He promised in a whisper.
He licked his dry lips and tore his eyes away from Randy, looking at other patients. Pale skinned, shaky and bony. It was like looking into a Concentration camp. Of course, the current year was 1954, so the memories of those places were still fresh in his mind. John himself had never been trapped in one. But he has seen one up close. It made his stomach twist.
John pushed away those thoughts before he snapped. He looked at Randy. "Do you remember a time when you were... okay?" He asked suddenly.
Randy looked up. By okay, he knew John meant "sane". He nodded. He did remember thinking like a normal human being. He remembered smiling. He remembered feelings, touches, and reality. He remembered his childhood- the good parts and the bad.
The longhaired brunette brightened slightly. "When you decide to talk, you should tell me about it." He whispered. He barely remembered being okay. He remembered things that happened but it was hard for him to recall a time where he felt truly happy. It was as if John was too far gone. No matter how well he seemed.
John smiled at him warmly. Randy wanted to smile back. To try and seem normal. Maybe it would brighten the light that John seemed to have. But he couldn't. John reached over again and brushed his thumb over Randy's bottom lip. Randy didn't move, and did not pull away. He didn't want to. His head fell quiet.
Silence.
What bliss.
John abruptly pulled away when Constantine gestured for him to come forward. He looked at Randy.
"I'll see you soon." He said, smiling shakily and stood up. He looked down at Randy, and Randy looked up at him.
The next motion seemed to happen in slow motion. A patient, one John did not know, violently pushed passed the petite brunette. John hissed in pain and looked at the man. The man glared back at him. Before the strung out, nameless patient could say another word, Randy lunged at him.
He snarled, much like an animal, and threw his fists at the man. John stood, shocked as he watched what happened. He watched as Randy unraveled and snapped on this man. All he had done was bump into John. But he now understood what went on inside of Randy. What stirred his emotions.
"He had no right." The voiced hissed to Randy.
"He touched your little obsession." They growled.
"Make him suffer. You love his pain."
And Randy did. He loved the pain of others. He reveled in it. Especially if he had a good reason. Randy wasn't really angry. He was just doing what those in his head told him to do. He was doing what felt right.
John was pulled away from the scene by Constantine as the security guards pulled Randy and the other patient away from each other. Randy looked like a wild animal unleashed, filled with hate. And maybe a hint of.. protectiveness? John continued to watch until he was pulled into the Ward. Constantine and a guard led him to the usual room where Constantine's private therapy sessions where held.
Constantine ushered John inside the room with a smile, the door closing behind them. It was locked from the outside. The guard would only open it if Constantine said so, so no patient could escape.
John sat in the leather chair, the shackles on his ankles having been removed by the guard. He pulled his knees to his chest, looking at the floor.
"Johnny boy. I see you've taken a liking to the newbie, Randy. That's good." Constantine said, sitting across from John, eyeing the smaller man. "You need to be more social."
"No one is social here." John snapped suddenly.
"Whoa there John. Calm down. There's no need to be angry." Constantine said slowly, and condescendingly. "You've made so much progress. I don't want to see that go to waste because you're attracted to a patient." He said lowly. "I know how you can be." He said his last sentence with emphasis.
John wanted to spit on the man. Or cry. Constantine usually made it sound like he was a slut. Like he always was attracted to someone here. And he wasn't. You'd think the man would realize that. John's been here for 8 years, after all. His lip started to quiver. He wanted to leave.
"Oh John, always so sensitive." Constantine sighed. "Have you seen any shadows lately?" He asked, trying to change the subject. He loathed John's tears. But in a way, he loved them. And John knew it. John knew that putting him down gave his therapist a sense of superiority. Like a bully in the school yard.
John nodded to answer Constantine's question.
"I'll have the nurse bring you your pills before you go to bed then." He said, having not given John any meds in a while.
"Look at me." He said forcefully.
John looked at Constantine.
"What Randy did was your fault. You just had to get close with him. He's impulsive and animalistic-"
"You're wrong." John cut him off quietly.
Constantine raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"You're wrong." He murmured again. "He's not an animal. He's scared." He whispered, trying to defend Randy. He didn't even know Randy well. He didn't know his story. He didn't know all of his triggers. His problems. His preferences; sexual or personal. Or even his last name. But John didn't care. He knew for a fact that though Randy had a silent, tough exterior, that the man was afraid. In this place, everyone was.
"Shut up." Constantine hissed. "I've spent years trying to get you're head to where it is today. And you're not even close to to recovery. You're mind will never be normal, because you can never just do what someone tells you." He stood up, pacing around John. "If you'd just listen to me, and stop caring so much about the other patients, maybe you'd be slightly okay." He growled.
John shrank in his seat, shaking. His heart beat painfully. And his head ached.
"Now, stop being such a whore and stop attatching yourself to that patient. Understood?" Constantine hissed.
John didn't answer.
"Say yes or I swear on all that is holy that I will send you straight to electroshock therapy right now." He growled.
"Y-Yes, yes." John said shakily.
"Good." Constantine said and patted John's cheek. "Such a good boy. Maybe there is hope for you." He lied.
And John heard the lies in the man voice. Sometimes, he tried to hope for release. But something always held him back. A breakdown. He snapped. He just... couldn't get his mind straight. He could stay pretty normal at times but it never lasted. Especially at night, when he was alone in his room. The silence became so loud, he'd bang his head against the wall. The silence hurt. The loneliness ached.
John was taken back to his room. He didn't fight. He was quiet. His room was a little worse than Randy's, as it was on the floor below. The walls were concrete. It was cold, and sometimes damp. There was carpet but it was stained and rough. The door was made of steal. There were bloody scratch marks on both the walls and the door, having scratched and banged into them in his desperate attempt to hear angels.
The lonely brunette laid in his bed alone, and stared at the door. He waited for his next bathroom break, or food break. John hated the timed schedules. The light slowly faded from the room, and his pupils were wide and dilated. He flinched as he heard the pitter patter of spider legs scamper across the floor. Or maybe it was something else.
Spiders were too quiet, right?
So it must be something else. Another creature to reside with him for the night. John heard screams from down the hall. They screamed nothings.
"Nothing..." John hissed. "It's nothing."
He sat up. This would not be an easy night. A shiver ran up his spine as he heard a voice whisper in his ear.
"Sweet kleinchen, it will hurt just a tad."
John pressed himself into a corner, clutching the thin blanket tight to him. The words repeated themselves over and over in his head. He hissed as he heard it again, right in his ear.
"Sweet kleinchen..."
He clenched his eyes tight. He tried to make it go away. He scratched at his wrists before a thought floated into his mind. It was so light, so smooth. He thought of Randy's lip. Why? Why did that come into his mind? He frowned, slowly opening his eyes into the dark. He touched Randy's bottom lip. John remembered it clearly. He closed his eyes again and began to guiltily think of Randy's lips again. They were so sad. So pouty. So pleading. They wanted to smile but they couldn't.
Randy's lips.
That was John needed, and all he honestly wanted. He wanted to see Randy's lips smile. He wanted to see them swollen from John's lips. That was an unrealistic possibility.
How silly.
To kiss Randy? The man was so unstable. So gone. So scared. So skittish. So unaware. John felt lucky that his hand got as far as it did. He smiled a little, and looked down at his hand. He slowly laid down, curling up. He closed his eyes, his fingers still warm from Randy's lips. He drifted off into a semi-peaceful sleep, unaware of the screams that currently fell from the lips he was so infatuated with.
Oooh well that was intense. But I kinda liked this chapter.
"Kleinchen" is German for "Little Child"
This IS right after WW2 so that will play a part in John's history. So again, pay attention to the dates. Hope you enjoyed! I love feedback! c: