A hospital friendship program unexpectedly brings together a pessimistic patient with an overly charismatic stranger. However, just because two paths cross, it doesn't mean everything else perfectly aligns.
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After a rare diagnosis alters the cou...
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03 | Jason
The support group room was spacious for a small area, with big windows touching the ceiling, a beige-creme color palette, carpet, and an expanse of walls filled with fancy art pieces. There was a foldable table with refreshments and food pushed by a wall, and in the center were the god forsaken chairs. Other than that, this room wasn't special.
I tried to lay low, not wanting to talk to anyone because everyone already seemed familiar with another. I kept his hood on, trying to melt in the background. There were four others, three boys and one girl— all that looked like friends.
I hated this, hated meeting new people with a passion. I was basically incapable of weaseling my way into established friend groups without getting punctured in the jugular by anxiety, or well, and also the lack of a social battery to get me through any interaction.
I wasn't a person people wanted to be friends with. There wasn't anything special about me that anyone wanted to know. Hell, I didn't even know shit about myself. The most I could talk about was my hospital experiences, but I doubt that conversation would go anywhere .
Besides that, nobody seemed to acknowledge me, which was good. I was fine observing, and maybe there was a chance I could get out of here without speaking to—
"Twix boy! It's you!" My eyes scrunched shut when I heard the familiar deep voice call me out. It was at that moment, I wanted to castrate Carwyn because now everybody was looking at him, and god this guy was going to fucking die.
When I whipped around to face him (begrudgingly mind you), I noticed Carwyn still looked douchey. Pretty douchey. It was probably the gray sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and the pair of shades that sat above his messy hair. He took them off, tucking them into his pocket as he greeted me with a smile fit for a pompous asshole.
"No we're not. Shut up." I said flatly, now regretting wearing the inverse of the guy's outfit. I probably should have tried harder, because now this assface was going to bother me. Fun.
"Oh sure," I rolled his eyes, crossing my arms over my chest, letting my fingers dig into the sides of my nonexistent biceps.
"Come on, lighten up, Kang."
"I'm pretty pale already," I rolled up my sleeve to show my awfully paper-white forearm, "Look you can see my veins."
"That's weird."
"I know, I was trying to scare you off."
"Well it didn't work."
"I can show you my translucent ribcage if that'll scare you away. Y'know I'm ET in my free time?"
"Well, uh, cool. Just come on, you'll love them my guy. Taemin really wanted to meet you, you know?" Carwyn was tugging his arm despite the nasty glare I gave him.
