Sander and Robbe, Minute by Minute

With What?

He was stable enough for visitation on Sunday. His mom was there in the morning, bringing his clothes and some stuff.

"I am sorry mom," Sander said.

Her mom hugged him, and Sander resisted the urge to move away from the touch.

"It's okay honey." Sander studied her face. She looked at him with concern, with love, but there was no judgement. And Sander was grateful for that.

"I bring your skecthbooks to keep you company."

Sander nodded his thanks and took it. "Did you find my phone, mom?"

She nodded and took it out from her bag. They didn't have mobile restriction in the psych ward, they just attached some kind of medical tape over the camera to protect the privacy of other patients and hospital staffs. They could took it away, if you used them to cause disturbance or harm on others or your own condition.

"Britt helped me to recover it and your other things.." She faltered and resumed, "From a boy.."

Sander didn't say anything.

She picked up a sketchbook and turned to a page, "Is this him?"

Sander looked down to Robbe's laughing face. He looked up, "Yes."

Her mom said hesitantly, "He was there when you— I saw him, but I didn't know him and I was so worried about you.."

Of course Robbe saw him. Sander closed his eyes; layer and layer of shame and guilt and regret.

He took a shaky breath and looked at his mom, "It's okay."

"Do you want me to contact him, maybe?"

"No."

His mom replied softly, "Okay."

She said again, "Britt wanted to come, but I thought that it's better if I came alone first."

"I don't want to see her."

Sander remembered vaguely that Britt was there the night he crashed. Her mom must had contacted her, the only person she knew, that she thought would understand.

"I am sorry sweetie, I was worried and I just needed.."

"I understand mom."

"She cares you know.. she also is worry for you.."

Sander didn't have the energy or interest to argue. Her mom sat with him for a while, but Sander only answered in monosyllable. She left when he said that he was tired and wanted to take a rest. Sander thanked her tonelessly and went back to his room.

He sat on the bed, opened his skecthbook and looked at the pages. He opened Robbe's contact and typed: I am sorry abou— He deleted it. He typed again: I need to see y— He deleted it again. Typing: The previous hotel was better. He sent it. Sander waited, there was no reply. He lay on his back and went to sleep.

*

He was awaken when the nurse came to check his vital and gave him his pills. They had changed his dose. In the afternoon after a tasteless meal, he went back to his room. Some time later, his phone chimed. He read the text from Robbe: I don't know anymore. Perhaps it's better for us to stop. Sander didn't want to believe what it mean.

Please, don't tell me it meant that. He typed quickly: With what?

Robbe replied: With us

His hand shook, he typed: Why?

The next message punched through his heart: Because there is no us

He left. Just like what he always feared he would do. Everything they had, their connection.. doesn't it mean anything at all? Was all of that just in his head? I love you. I love you so much. And I thought you do too. But he left. Just like his dad. Just like the others. He wondered whether his mom would left one day. Sander thought it was not possible to feel anything when he was this way, but he could felt and heard his heart splintering, shattered into broken glasses inside him. He lay at his side and stared at the wall. A single tear escaped him, but that was all. He observed this with cold detached amusement, and watched the shadow claimed him.