#...idek

The Donk.

He woke in a fog, unsure how he’d arrived in the bare room. He thought nothing of it at first, assuming it to be the aftermath of one of his bad episodes before he remembered he wasn’t living at the hospital anymore.

Someone soon came in, a young doctor, bringing a tray of food. “Glad to see you’re up,” he said cheerfully, as if there were nothing unusual about the circumstances. “And how are we doing today?”

“Where am I?” he asked, only a slight tremble in his voice. Was this some sort of sick joke? Some strange retribution against the terrorist?

The doctor clicked his tongue and frowned a little, but didn’t seem shaken by the question. “You’re at a private clinic. You’ve been here for a while - for months, actually, ever since being released from the hospital after waking from your coma. Do you remember that?”

“I…” He clenched his jaw, trying to process what was being said. His head felt heavy though, and it was difficult to focus enough to keep a train of thought. “I moved into Doyoung’s house,” he finally forced out.

The doctor smiled, but it was a tight, sad smile. “Doyoung is another of our patients, he became your roommate when you moved in here. After the injury that caused the coma, you’ve been prone to delusions and hallucinations - that’s why you came here. Some days are better than others.”

He frowned, trying to piece this together. “So, I didn’t live with Doyoung?”

The doctor smiled, pleased at how easily he grasped this. “Not in his house, no. Your mind just warped what you actually saw. But it’s alright, you’re safe here, and though it may not seem like it right now, you’ve made vast improvements since you first arrived.”

He nodded dumbly. He didn’t want to believe it had all been a dream, more or less, but his mind was too sluggish to come up with an argument. Hell, it explained some of the stranger things. After a few minutes, the doctor left him alone, and he soon drifted back off to sleep.

He grew more alert over the following days, staying awake for longer stretches and becoming curious, asking the doctors what had really gone on during the past several months. Everyone was thrilled with how well he was doing, chittering about how this was his longest period of lucidity yet, and answered his questions readily. Whatever doubts he may have had soon faded - the responses were too consistent, full of too much detail, for it to be fake. Besides that, it was a full building - albeit one he never got to explore in detail - and a full staff. Who could design so elaborate a hoax?

“So… does that mean my friendship with Doyoung was all a lie?” he asked one day. It had take. A few weeks to work up the nerve to ask that question, afraid as he was of the answer.

“Oh goodness, no!” the doctor exclaimed, looking aghast at the idea. “That much was real, your mind just changed the circumstances.” The doctor smiled warmly, and added, “He helped you come a long way from when you first arrived. It was a shame we had to separate you.”

“Why was that?”

“He took a turn for the worse,” the doctor said, trying to keep his tone even. “And he nearly took you down with him, which is why your last episode was one of the most extreme. But you’ve recovered with flying colors, and he’s in isolation now, receiving a new sort of treatment.”

“Isolation?” he repeated, suddenly panicked. “No, you can’t! When he was a kid, he… they…” He trailed off, the look from the doctor confirming what he realized before the words were out of his mouth. “Another delusion,” he mumbled.

“One that’s not your fault, though,” the doctor reassured him. “He insisted on it. In your state, it was only natural that you’d easily believe it.”

He let out a sigh, and was silent a few more moments. “Still, he must be… Is there any way I can go see him?”

The doctor was hesitant for what seemed a long while, then finally admitted, “I wasn’t going to ask just yet, but I think you’re ready.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, gathering his thoughts, then went on. “The treatment he’s receiving… it’s experimental, so I can’t quite explain details. But ideally, someone that he knows and trusts - as much as he trusts anyone - should be keeping an eye on him. Observing. There’s a room adjacent to his, with a glass wall between them. We’d like you to be stationed there.”

He looked at the doctor, a little warily. “Is that alright, after we had to be separated? And how do I know you’re not really having him watch me?”

“It will be fine. We’ll monitor you, to make sure things don’t go south - but with your progress, I don’t think they will. And you’ll have access to a panel that will tint the glass, changing it to a two-way mirror, so you’ll have privacy whenever you like.”

He demurred, and the doctor said he didn’t have to decide now. It made him uneasy, and he wasn’t sure what to think. It was never brought up again, though, and after a couple days that was almost more maddening than constant pestering would be.

“I’ll do it,” he blurted out one day. “I’ll watch Doyoung.” Though it’d come out seemingly on impulse, there really was no other answer he could give. Hadn’t Doyoung looked after him all this time? Even if his memories were… not quite trustworthy, even the doctor said that the other man had helped him along. Shouldn’t he return the favor?

There were a couple days of prep, during which he was given some rules about how to act around Doyoung. “Most importantly,” emphasized the doctor, “don’t mention the nature of his isolation. That is, don’t tell him he’s in a hospital, or that it’s part of a treatment, or even that anyone is involved besides you. If you do, the progress we’ve made could be compromised. It will be hard, but you’ll have to trust us that it’s for the best for him.”

He couldn’t imagine what sort of treatment it could be, with restrictions such as that, but he said nothing, only nodding while pursing his lips together. With that, he entered, seeing his friend curled into a tight ball and immediately assuring him that this wasn’t their fears becoming reality, but rather, for the other man’s own good.