Psycho Hot (BoyxBoy)

NINE

Today is Monday. Meditation Monday to be exact.
It's the one day of the week that the asylum allows patients to roam outside for an hour and a half. There's a fenced-in area behind the main building where they're able to walk around. The site is heavily guarded by the towering fence and many on-duty employees.

I immediately consume a gasp of fresh air when I step outside. Being cooped up in a penitentiary all day without any windows can become quite claustrophobic. Some days it makes me go nuts, not seeing any natural light. I can't even imagine how the patients must feel.

Scanning the fenced perimeter, I observe the patients frolicking around. Most of them don't do a lot. Quite a few inmates are resting on the grass. Others toss a foam ball, one that can't be used to hurt themselves or anyone else. It's satisfying to see these poor people enjoying their small amount of freedom. I wish it were more than a once-per-week deal.

My visual target lands on a mop of curly hair relaxing on one of the wooden benches in the mini-garden. I casually saunter over to him.

"Is this seat taken?" I aim my finger to the unoccupied part of the bench.

Darren takes a drag of his cigarette then says, "Well, I was saving that seat for Fredrick over there, but I guess you can keep his spot warm for now."

I advert my attention to a man in his mid-fifties. He's shouting out random phrases. They're unintelligible, so I have no idea what he's saying. He sporadically has a fight with the air in front of him, throwing his fists up. I feel guilty for doing so, but I have to let out a tiny laugh.

"I highly doubt Fredrick will be joining you anytime soon," I plop down next to Darren.

"I'll have to ask for a rain check then."

It's silent for a second or two as another puff of nicotine-filled air escapes past his lips. The fumes almost cause me to cough. I frown, "Why do you smoke?"

"I've been addicted to these lung-killers since I was at the ripe age of sixteen," he shrugs, examining the smoking stick in-be-tween his fingers.

"You're definitely the only person I've seen that can make cigarettes look hot."

"And that's a compliment?" Darren's eyebrow raises as he pretends to be offended.

"Soak it up, baby!" I send a sly wink his way.

He doesn't reply to my presumptuous comment. He just sits there, legs crossed, while pondering about something unbeknownst to me.

I take this silence as an opportunity to enjoy the chilly September morning. With my lids shut, I allow the light breeze to woosh right past me. There's still a bit of dew clinging onto the grass. I can smell its mild, earthy scent. I haven't felt this calm in a few weeks.

Unfortunately, that stillness is interrupted by Darren's need to instigate. He audibly wonders, "What happened?"

"Huh?" I blink, confused at his ambiguity.

"That night with Dr. Hu- Edward," he clarifies. "You said it was a rough night."

"Oh."

"Tell me," Darren demands, clearly annoyed at my hesitance.

"It was nothing, really. We went to the drive-in and saw a film. I got a little drunk off the bottle of gin Edward brought with, and then we went to grab dessert at this diner he likes-" I stop myself from rambling on. I have a feeling he won't be pleased about what comes next.

"That's not all that happened," he encourages me, gripping the front of the wood.

I huff, "After we left the diner, we walked to his car, and my drunk self accidentally confessed that I thought he was cute."

"I knew you liked him," Darren says with a voice full of venom. His knuckles start to turn white from how hard he's grabbing the bench.

"What's the problem with that?" I knit my brows.

"You said that you two were just friends."

"And that's all we'll ever be. So what if I find him slightly attractive?"

I find it ridiculous that I have to defend myself for being attracted to Edward. He acts as if I need protection.

"Whatever," Darren rolls his emeralds. "Finish the story."

"Anyways, when I said it, his whole personality switched. The car ride back was silent, but right before I left, he threatened me not to tell anyone else at the asylum, or I'd be thrown into a cell. I even had to drive home, still a bit drunk."

"I'll fucking kill him!"

Darren shoots up, his fists clenched at each of his sides. His face turns bright red in anger.

"No! Stop it right now, Darren!" I whisper as loud as I can in an attempt to avoid any extra attention brought to us. There are too many guards around. We could easily be found out if he keeps this tough guy act up.

"He humiliated you. He attacked you when you were most vulnerable. You were drunk! That bastard deserves to be punched at least."

His violent outrage doesn't subside one bit. I have to deescalate the situation quickly, or else there will be severe repercussions.

"Please, Darren," I beg. "You could get badly punished for this. It's not worth the fight. Don't you think your reaction is a bit excessive?"

"I'm afraid that Edward might tell the warden about your sexuality. Places like these don't take that sort of information lightly. If I simply threaten him a little, he might withhold from revealing anything," Darren tries to justify his reasoning.

I hate to admit that he could be right. However, I genuinely don't think my coworker would be a tattletale. As much as Edward may disagree with who I am, I think he has enough heart to ignore it and move on.

"He won't tell. I know it." I whine, "Please promise me that you won't do anything stupid!"

"Alright, I won't," he finally obeys my plea. "The only reason that I'm doing this is because I don't want you to be upset."

"Promise me, Darren," I repeat. I honestly don't believe him.

"I promise I won't go after Dr. Hughes," he grunts, sitting back down in defeat.

Thankfully, the last thirty minutes left of Meditation Monday are spent conversing about silly topics. There's a lot of flirting mixed in. With each second I spend talking to him, the farther I hopelessly fall into Darren's trap. Frankly, I barely care how deep down into the pit I go. He's successfully got me captured.

Ultimately, all good things must come to an end as the customary alarm blares throughout the yard. All of the patients are directed back to the confinement of their cells.

When everyone's back inside, I stroll back to my office. There isn't much to do for the next hour, so I decide on an early meal. My watch tells me that it's almost noon anyways.

I've made a personal pact not to eat anything made in the asylum's cafeteria, so I pull out my pre-made lunch.

The food here is a downright disgrace. Darren has told me how he barely eats anything from this place. I promised that I would slip him some actual human food once in a while.

Once I've finished my sandwich and chips, I begin to review the manila folder that contains the knowledge necessary for my next session. The patient seems to have a history of extreme violence. At the young age of twenty, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

I read up on his medical records, family history, and past therapy sessions. There has to be something in this file that will help me to make a connection with the boy.

Before I have any more time to browse the information, Catherine bursts through the entrance of my office. She didn't even give a warning. This must be urgent.

"What can I do for you, Cathy?" I present my fake smile curated just for her.

"May I talk to you about Darren Walker?"