Forked Tongue

If he was really aware the effect his small comment had, Jonas would’ve been over the moon. Getting this guy wrapped around his finger, in his being, in his words–Well, it was a lot easier than he thought it was going to be. He had been looked at this way before–Like he was the center of the universe, like he was the one who made the sun go down, and the earth come back up. But generally, it came after time, lots of time, and it was the peak, before everything eventually came crashing down in a dramatic fashion. “Brain tumor? Wow, that’s horrible, I’m sorry to here that,” he says, feeling genuinely sympathetic for a moment. He hoped the other would be okay, if only for his own selfish desire to have him close, to get to know him, to continue receiving these looks. 

“It’s an okay name, I suppose,” he says, giving off an air of humility, completely artificial, but it would be difficult to spot if you weren’t looking for it, “Though, I think I might like Sunshine better.” There’s was something special about receiving a nickname, Jonas would know that–he used pet names to make other people feel special. When the roles reversed, he couldn’t help but feel special, especially sine he knew it was genuine. He can’t help but laugh at the awkward comment, not in a rude or judgmental way, but just entertained. “I can think of a few things,” he says, swaying on his feet for a moment, before tilting his head to the side, “What do you like to do, hun?”

Sympathy. Sympathy was always good and Jonas’ seemed genuine and it made Rogan relax just a tad more. If Jonas felt sorry for him, the more likely he was to stay, right? Right. Maybe the more that Rogan was around Jonas, the more unlike Jeremey he became but... that didn’t matter. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to replace Jeremey so much as he just didn’t want to be alone and Jonas seemed all too happy to keep him company for a while.

He took the hand offered in a shake. Something about the formality of it made him grin, but he found he liked it anyway. “450,” he answered, but with a slight shake of his head. “But nah, don’t think so mate. I’m hitched up with some bloke called… Abacus or some shit. Mr. Darcy. Haven’t met him yet. Wonder if he’s anythin’ like the Mr. Darcy from the movie.”

“What ‘bout you though? Where they got you? Maybe yer on the same floor or somethin’?”

Rogan hummed and shook his head, “Oh...” He wasn’t entirely sure Abacus was a name - wasn’t it one of those old... counting things? - but he wasn’t going to bring it up and potentially piss Chase off somehow, “Uhm, which movie is that?” he also didn’t know any movies with a Mr. Darcy. None off the top of his head, anyway.

“I’m in 452.. so we’re neighbours, I guess. That’s cool, right?” it was a small thing but it was a thing nonetheless, “You’re from England, right? I went there once, it was a lot of fun.” he hadn’t, of course, but maybe it would build some common ground between them. 

The other looked like he had seen a ghost when he looked up, looked scared and confused all at the same time. His need to know the other’s story grew, but he wasn’t going to push it just yet. “Oh, don’t you apologize,” he says, giving him an understanding smile and a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’ll try not to sneak up on you next time, deal?” Next time, because he already interested in the other, and his large blue eyes that seemed to tell a story. Surgery? Good lord, that must’ve been a bummer. This guy didn’t look too sick, but it wasn’t always that obvious. “What surgery?” he asks, before he pretends to look away bashfully, “Sorry, that’s a little too personal to ask, isn’t it?” Not that he cared that it was too personal, or even felt bad if the question could’ve been seen as rude. When he pretended to be shy, conscientious, they often gave him the answer he wanted. 

Jonas takes the other’s hand in both of his, giving a firm, hearty shake. The nickname Sunshine brings an even brighter smile to his face, “Name’s Jonas, but feel free to call me Sunshine all you want,” he says, finally dropping the other’s hand. There was something intense about the way Rogan looked at him, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. There was something needy about Rogan’s look, and he loved it. 

Next time. Next time. Next time. “Deal...” Rogan smiled gratefully, feeling his cheeks heat up just a little at the look he got, so understanding, not the least bit angry at his reaction. When he asked about the surgery and then seemed to get all embarrassed about asking a personal, Rogan nearly panicked, thinking he might try and leave, “No, no, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it, it’s okay, really... they’re going to be removing a brain tumour, next month or the month after.. they gotta do tests and stuff first.” If he felt it too personal to ask Rogan why he was here, Rogan definitely wasn’t going to ask why the other was here, that was for sure. 

For the first time in his life. Charlie wished the guard would have been sterner. Just to keep him in his little bubble of NOT having a roommate. The boy had no trouble trusting people. Getting to know people. But his room~ Well it was his fucking room. He might mostly not be in it. But the moments he did spent in there. It was a place that was neither safe nor not safe. It was just his. Without the hallucinations that came into his head whilst being alone. He also loved the fact of being alone. Having his own space. A place where he could be up all night without bothering anyone.

How would he be able to stay up the whole night now?! He couldn’t start playing music through his phone, couldn’t turn on all the lights to get rid of the shadows and read the rest of the night. He would have another person that he had to keep in mind. “Nice to meet you, I’m Charlie~” He said holding out his hand a mask of kindness on his face as he was freaking the fuck out on the inside. Already wondering how his new roommate would like him if he would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Or when he would sneak off to take a shower to get rid of all that sweat he would wake up with. All the worst scenarios already unfolding in his mind.

Rogan stepped forward and shook Charlie’s hand, grateful for the save and he laughed lightly. The other looked friendly enough but Rogan was encroaching on his territory. Who knew how long Charlie had been in that room, by himself, enjoying whatever privacy he wanted or needed and now here he was, intruding. “Hi Charlie...” his tone was apologetic and he nibbled on his bottom lip lightly, “You won’t even know I’m here, man...” 

He wasn’t sure how that was going to work with his insomnia but he was sure that Charlie would have some ideas. After all, it was Charlie’s sleep he would be disturbing so Charlie would know best how to... not. “I don’t sleep much, but I won’t bother you, I promise.” he still couldn’t get over how much Charlie looked like Jeremey but at this point he was pretty sure any kid with dark hair would look like his brother. Whatever the case, it was a little unnerving but not enough to put Rogan off of needing Charlie to like him.

The rec room, depressingly enough, seemed to be the most active place in this place. Despite it’s horrible lack of anything actually interesting, people seemed to loiter around here for the most part. Not that most of the people he had met were as social as he was, he still found himself having to initiate almost everything, his force alone generally pulling along the conversation. But, it was better than the alternative of being completely, and utterly, alone. And so, Jonas found himself in the rec room once again, glancing around as he entered for something, someone, anything really to sate his need for attention interaction. 

The man in the rocking chair captured his attention immediately, big eyes that screamed a number of things: that he was hurt, that he was lost, that he was scared. Jonas had met quite a few people already, but no one quite had that look of distraught this guy did, and he was curious why he looked to be in so much pain. It was alluring, and he wasted no time at in approaching the other, carrying himself with the same confidence and energy he always did. Lowering his head slightly, he offers the other a bright smile, eyebrow quirking before asking, “Now, why do you look so down in the dumps, hun?”

Rogan looked up when someone approached and he blanched, moving back in his chair with a confused, bordering on terrified expression for the split second that he saw Jeremey walking towards him. As soon as the figure spoke, the illusion - delusion? - disappeared into a handsome, cheery face and Rogan let out a breath, “God, you scared me... sorry...” he apologized as he wiped a hand quickly over his face to try and get himself somewhat sorted. 

Dixie was having a bad day. She had had two full blown panic attacks since before breakfast and had needed to be sedated during the second one. Now she was foggy and wandering around after having woken up. She felt quite flat (unlike her fucking waistline thanks to these pills). Dixie noticed him a short distance away but he didn’t look happy. She’d never seen him before, was he new? She was a bit dizzy so she ended up tripping and practically falling down next to the chair he sat in. “Damn it…” She muttered, blinking and then looking up at the guy. “Sorry.”

“Woah, woah...” Rogan half stood from the chair, hand hovering out when the girl tripped almost right in front of him, “Sorry? Why are you sorry, are you okay? Do you want a hand?” he held it out a little closer towards the girl, strangely captivated by her eyes. This place was really throwing him for a loop, surrounded by so many people, yet he’d never felt more alone. There was some sort of sadness in her, at least he imagined there was, it seemed like it just from looking at her, maybe he could help more than just by getting her off the ground. @dixielaminer

Levi wasn’t particularly happy as he darted off, quickly he found a hiding spot and had been there for roughly twenty minutes. To Levi it felt longer until he was spotted by someone, quickly he spoke up - his nose scrunching as he answered why he was currently hiding, “I don’t wanna get my medicines - it makes me feel icky.”

Demetria was the same as every child – she believed that a parents love would compare to no other but she was just as wrong as the next kid in Brielle Institute. It had always sucked… Sure, she was an only child which should have made her more LOVEABLE but the second her father had become convinced that she was MURDEROUSLY ill, he was the first to jump on the bandwagon of ‘lets ship her off’. Perhaps, it was all in some bid to get rid of her and her mother. They were a wealthy family; one that moved to California to pursue his dream job but that took up their life. Los Angeles was a place where everybody went to fulfil their dreams – even lawyers too apparently… It had never been admitted but Demi KNEW he was having an affair; the long hours spent at work, the nights spent saying as far away as he could from his mother – but she was still hopelessly in love, just like most women who had married their high school sweetheart. That was the only possible explanation that she could think of for neither of them reaching out in the TWO YEARS she had been in hospitals… No visits, no phone call, not even a DAMN letter. It was no surprise that she wasn’t getting any better. The lack of attention from her parents left her seeking it in other people – mostly men in some desperate bid to have a dominating figure in her life… But even that was difficult at times. Sure, she had Jared and although he was more than enough for her, she was like a V A M P I R E who needed blood and once she had a taste of somebody else wrapping around her finger, well she fell in head first to the ADDICTION that their attention was fuelling. 

Rolling into the recreational room – somewhere she had spent a lot of time lately – the beauty perked up as soon as she saw a new face sat across the room, nervously watching everybody else who was buzzing around between the four walls, trying to figure out his surroundings. In fact, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and allow a smirk to CREEP over her features – her right foot carrying her into the direction of the stranger. She hadn’t seen him before and a girl like Demi knew EVERYBODY who came into the hospital… It paid off being the popular girl. Allowing a sigh to spill from her cherries, hands on her hips as her afire autumns cast themselves upon the brunette, she tilted her head to the side with a coy smile igniting her features. 

“Rough first day?”

Rogan caught sight of the girl as she came over and he wasn’t sure what to make of her. It seemed like she had her eyes locked on him and he even turned to look over his shoulder to make sure there was no one behind him that she was looking at instead. It was just the wall... it was definitely him she was looking and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably as she approached. 

Looking up when she spoke, Rogan managed a smiled and nodded, “That obvious, huh?” he started, “Just not entirely sure what to do with myself... y’know? Ha, any ideas?” he looked up at her hopefully, trying to gauge her reactions and anticipate her next moves. 

He had almost done it. The boy had been stalking through the hallways of the institute since the beginning of the afternoon. Not sticking around in one place. Avoiding any kind of staff. Even tried to get around the cameras that hung around the hallways. He had almost done it. With litteraly five more minutes before the start of curfew. A steel hand grabed his shirt as he got dragged to his room. ‘Nice try Swann~’ a chuckling guard had thrown at him. The guards knew him well enough to not scold him for trying. Even if they would have caught him after curfew. They didn’t know the details. But did know about his diagnosis. Including his horrid night terrors that made him afraid of his own shadow from time to time. With a last pat on his shoulder the guard pushed open the door before shoving him in after. A small chuckle leaving the males lip as he saw the shocked face of the male.

In the entirety of him being in Brielle. The boy never had a roommate. Other then Demi in Cancun, or the nights she came over just to have a sleepover or to gossip the entirety of the night. “W-Well hi there~” he sais a little uncertain. Partly thinking he must be dreaming. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be sharing a room.

Looking up when the door opened, Rogan’s eyes widened a little when his roommate finally showed his face. There was a guard, he didn’t know what had been going on but he stood up quickly, hands clenching into fists at his sides. Eyes darted between the two but it didn’t look like his roommate was in trouble and when the guard left that was all but confirmed. 

“Hi...” he returned, equally uncertain as his brow furrowed slightly. First Chase in the rec room and now this? Why did everyone look like Jeremey? Maybe that’s why he was here at Brielle in the first place, not some stupid “personality disorder”, “I’m, uh... I’m Rogan.. I guess we’re roommates?” what a stupid thing to say, now he was going to hate him. Taking in a sharpish sort of breath, Rogan tried to think of something he could say to fix it but he was drawing a full blank. 

“Tumour? Shit mate, that’s some real shit. Blimey.” He knew there were medical patients here, of course, but for some reason he hadn’t been expecting that. He’d never met a person with a brain tumour before. It was kind of scary, actually. “M’sorry, mate.” He shrugged a bit awkwardly, not knowing quite what to say. 

He didn’t miss the way the bloke sort of blinked a couple times when he looked at him. Like for a moment, he’d seen a ghost, and had to convince his eyes what was the truth and what wasn’t. Chase bit his lip at the corner. “Cheers, Rogan. I’m Chase. Big ol’ Noob, if ya couldn’t tell,” he said with a bit of an awkward laugh. 

Rogan smiled lightly at the other’s reaction and shrugged lightly with a sigh, “Shit happens, right?” he wanted to brush it off, didn’t want to make him uncomfortable and leave him alone again. He was the first person other than staff that he’d spoken to.

Untucking his leg, he slid forward a little in the chair and extended his hand towards the other, “Hey, Chase... I’m new too,” a rare truth, “Which room are you in? Maybe we’re roommates?” he let out a little laugh of his own that had just a tad of desperation in it that he hadn’t wanted. Nothing he could do about it now though. Shit.

The bloke looked miserable. Sort of frozen, and on either on the verge of passing out, or having a full blown anxiety attack. He stared around the room with wild, dark eyes, red in the whites, pupils too small. 

Chase peered as him as he walked in, and after a beat, moved towards him slowly. “’Cor, mate. You look bloody shattered. Y’alright?”

Rogan flinched and then swore under his breath for the stupid reaction, looking up at the guy who had spoken to him, “What? Oh... yeah, I’m fine... tired... brain tumours’ll do that, apparently.” 

He had looked at the guy and then at some point looked away because he had to bring his gaze back up to actually register the face. Ridiculous blue eyes, just like Jeremey, a dark shock of hair, just like Jeremey... one blink and for a second it was Jeremey before Rogan quickly closed his eyes and wiped a hand over his face, taking in a deep breath, “Sorry, I’m Rogan... don’t mean to get morbid on you... you got a name?” @edgeofchase