Delusional [a solangelo au] sequel to Psychopath

-How to share-

Nico's pov
Trigger warnings: mentions of suicide, mentioned drug abuse,
—

One of the worst parts of living in a mental institution (and there were many bad things) was having to share a room with someone. Someone who was, likely, just as crazy as you were.

In my opinion, I'd hate to share a room with myself, and I think this system is, overall, a bad one.
I had no privacy to talk to (physically) no one, have an existential breakdown, or, you know, cry.

I was lucky to have had a few moments to myself in between roommates, where I could be in my white washed room all on my own. And even that is the worst.

There were no upsides to this place, actually.
I was creeped out and lonely without someone in my desolate room, and I wanted nothing but my own space when I had one.

When I was told I was going to suffer with another roommate for who-knows-how-long, I wasn't very pleased.

It was late at night, about 4 in the morning, when a nurse came into my room to do a check (how are we supposed to get sleep when they come in every other hour?).
I ignored her, and her simple footsteps, and tried to fall asleep. Obviously I wasn't allowed a single moment of peace.

"Nico, I can see you're awake," the nurse from a few days ago spoke,
"I don't want to alarm you, but someone was just admitted into the hospital, and is going to room with you."

I stayed silent, as if I didn't care, or wasn't listening. She sighed, and just as I hoped, left the room.

I rolled onto my back and let out an exasperated sigh. Whoever the person was, they would either want to talk all of the time, or never leave the room. Those were the only types of people here. I hated all of them.

I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling heavy. I ate more than usual that day (15 points great) and I didn't feel sick. But now as it digested, I was regretting it all.
My reverie was interrupted by a crash out in the hall, and then slurred giggling.

I sat up, intrigued by the sudden noise. I'm sure all of the other patients did the same, rushing to their doors and watching the show. It was one of the only sources of entertainment in this jail.

I pushed myself against the wall and wrapped my arms around my knees, as if to protect myself.
Unfortunately, I had a slight idea that the commotion was caused by my new roommate.
I pulled at my hair, that ended just at my ears in the back. It was short again, and my neck was bare. It felt lighter. Sometimes change was ok.

I listened intently, but too bone tired to actually get up and look at what was happening. The sounds were coming towards my room anyways.

I didn't have to wait in suspense for very long, after a minute, a boy and three nurses stumbled into my room. Without meaning to, I jumped, and hit the back of my head on the wall.

The boy looked younger than me, around 15 or 16, and was very obviously piss drunk. Wasted.
As they struggled to bring him over to the bed beside my own in the dark room, I looked him over intently.
His hair was wild and unkept, flying in every angle, and his eyes were squinting in the dark. I'm sure if it was light in the room, I'd see the dilated pupils and red tint to them.
The only other thing I picked up on was the puke on the front of his shirt and the satisfaction in his drunken smile.
I remembered that smile, the one I often wore 2 and a half years ago, when I'd wake up in an ambulance.

He giggled, and tripped over his own feet, falling onto the twin style bed.

"Thank y'all so much for the hospitality," the newcomer giggled, pulling the comforter up so it was completely bunched into a ball, and hugged it,
"Haha, get it? Hospitality like hospital? Cause this is my third time at this hospital?"