Fix Me

8: Oliver

I sit in bed, goosebumps prickling my arms, my room feeling way too big, facing Jax's empty bed. They moved him out almost a week and a half ago, just took his clothes and bedsheets. Haven't even emptied his drawer yet.

I slowly limp my way to his bed, sitting down on it. The pillowcase is still there, and I bring it up to my nose, slowly, gently sniffing it. Lilac laundry detergent smacks me in the face, and I throw the pillow back down. It isn't him.

The sheets are too crisp, the air too fresh, and I realize that I can't feel his presence anymore. Frantically, I tug his drawer open, finding each item I've given him lined up methodically, carefully in order, organized my color and size. The sight comforts me, lets me know what he's been doing all this time: organizing his knick knacks. Resting on top of a handful of paper cranes is a yellow notecard, folded in half, that says, "Open Me," in spindly cursive letters.

I unfold it desperately, fingers terribly trembly, and bring it towards me to read.

Hey, Oli.

You seem the type to rummage through my belongings, so I'll leave this for you. As you likely know now, I'm leaving soon. I know they won't tell you the room number (it's 159), or that the spare key card is kept under the rug, but what's a guy to do? Please know that I miss you dearly, and that my bed is cold without you, and that, at this very second, I'm probably lying awake under my covers, waiting for you to come and rescue me... And that if the little door window is only half covered, I'm totally free to run away with you.

Jax

I reread the note, fold it carefully into my palm. Gathering a few of Jax's favorite things from the drawer, I stand to go to the door, determined to see him, when I see Max lurking.

"Oliver, hun, you've got an appointment today, remember?" I groan internally. Since my mood has dropped considerably lately (shocker), I've been scheduled a few counseling appointments with the local shrink, Dr. Warden. He's a pretty okay guy, when he's not questioning me non-stop.

I slide Jax's things further into my palm and trudge to the office down the hall, head down, Max's hand lovingly placed on my shoulder. She sits me down in the soft grey chair in front of Dr. Warden's desk, then leaves quietly, closing the door softly behind her.

Dr. Warden glances up, smiling at me. He clicks the pen in his hand into a writing position. "Hello, Oliver. How are we today?"

"We are doing pretty crap, Dr. Warden. I miss Jax, my room is too cold, and I can barely hear myself think over the silence in there." I bring my hand up over my mouth, gently resting it there, my other arm wrapping around my torso. "It's deafening."

Dr. Warden puts on his "I understand" face. "I'm very sorry to hear that, Oliver. We'll talk about those things after we go through the usual routine questions, okay?" I roll my eyes in response, and the doctor takes it as a confirmation. "Rate your mood on a scale of one to ten?"

"Three," I answer, eyes wandering up towards the ceiling.

"Have you been taking your medications?"

"Yes," I lie, studying the speckles on the ceiling tiles.

"It says here that you haven't been eating much?"

"Haven't been hungry."

"You've been sleeping in Jax's old bed, it says?"

"Not on purpose. And don't say his old bed. It's still his bed."

Dr. Warden gives me a sympathetic look that I don't want. "Okay, Oliver, if it will make you happy."

"I'm not happy." I look back into his eyes. "I'm quite unhappy, Dr. Warden. To be honest, there probably isn't much you can do to fix it. Can I go now?"

He looks flustered. "I- I still have more questions-"

"I do not care. I can't imagine a scenario in which I could care less about those stupid ass questions. I could lie on every single one, and you'd never know." I push myself out of the chair, fully aware that I'm being unreasonably rude, and unable to stop myself. "I'm sorry. Bad day. I'll see you on Thursday, sir."

I turn and walk out of the door, look both ways, and speedwalk down the mostly empty hall. I can hear Dr. Warden calling for security, and I move faster heart racing, tracing the embossed room numbers with my fingertips as I pass.

145...

150...

157...

I skid to a halt in front of the door to room 159, tapping the number with pulsing fingers. I take a deep breath, peeking at the curtain in front of the little, square window. It's pulled aside, and I stoop to slide the entry card from underneath the rug.  I glance behind me, then slip through the door, closing it behind me with a little click.

The most striking thing about the room is the darkness. Dust swirls through the musty air in eddies and waves, highlighted by the thin light reaching from behind a heavy, velvet curtain. Jax is nothing but a lump on a bed far too large for him, covered in blankets, a tuft of his dark hair poking out from the top. His uneaten lunch sits on a tray by his bedside, looking soggy and abandoned.

"Jax?" The lump stirs with a grunt, and I smile, remembering how hard it always was to wake him up. Inching closer, I set his items in a neat row on his nightstand, lining them up according to color. Then, I gently rub his arm. "Jax. Wake up."

He groans, mumbling something, rolling over to look at me through slits of barely opened eyes. Soon, they widen, his silver irises glowing at me. "Oli?"

My heart melts when I hear his voice, a little scratchy, deeper than normal from sleep. "In the flesh," I nod.

He sits up, reaching out for my face slowly, like he's wading through molasses. When the tips of his fingers brush my cheek, he gasps, pulling back like he almost doesn't believe it. "It's really you? You aren't... You're real?"

I reach out gently, touching his hair. He nuzzles into my palm. "It's me, Jax. Are you okay?"

Jax pulls me down onto the bed by my arm, curling himself into my arms, resting his forehead on my shoulder. "I... Apparently, I've started hallucinating," he breathes with a shaky laugh. "Not optimal. I haven't really been taking my meds either, though, so that's probably um... Not helping." I can feel a wet spot growing near his face and pull him closer. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry. I should take them, I know, but they make me feel so sleepy. I feel like a zombie, and I can't remember how you smell sometimes, and... Oli," he sobs.

"I'm here, babe. Don't cry." My hand wants to fly up and cover my mouth when the word babe slips out, but I keep it around the boy in my arms. "Don't cry. It'll be okay. You're okay." Jax just fists his hands in my thin shirt,

When the orderlies finally find us, he's cried himself to sleep, curled up against me.

A/N: Woo I updated! Yay!

I'm really tired, and working on quite a few things at the moment... Sorry, y'all, the next update might be a while. But, it will come, along with a few other projects :)

Thanks for reading!