Source Of Sorrow [BoyXBoy]

.:5:.

Alex dragged me around everywhere, showing me every inch of the building and acting as if it was the most fascinating thing in existence. How could such an active and joyous boy be on suicide watch? I guess I would never know, until I find out for myself.

I was now quite familiar with the institution and I was able to find my way from my room to all of the crucial locations, like the showers (which I had to share with the patients, as I actually lived here, in contrary to the real doctors who got to go home for the night); the overly-cramped cafeteria; all of the doctors' offices; and the rec room, where group meetings were held. And that was where we were headed now.

After the hour, which Alex was supposed to be spending with Dr Jardine, had passed, it was my responsibility to take him to the group meeting. It was quite a simple thing: sets of 10 to 15 people would talk about their problems and feelings together. However, what worried me most was that Alex insisted that I stayed at the meeting to get a good hang of what was going on. I didn't belong there; I wasn't crazy like all of those people and I felt so out of place, when I took a seat next to my only friend and the other 11 or so patients gazed at us with such confusion that it was almost disturbing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr Armstrong, someone who I had met during my small amount of time here, enter and beckon me to come over with his hand. I did so, and approached the doorframe, which he was leaning against comfortably, leaving the chatting people behind.

"Jack, it's lovely to see you again," he greeted. I nodded my head and looked down at the black-haired man, waiting for him to finally tell me why he wanted to talk to me.

Was it because I wasn't supposed to be here? If so, then Alex would be disappointed, however he wouldn't have much of a choice, but to go along with it, as there would be nothing he could do about it.

"I'm pleased to see that you're here." Dr Armstrong smiled up at me. "Are you going to participate?"

"What? Why would I do that? I'm here to be like a doctor not a patient." I knitted my eyebrows together.

"I know, but the main reason we allowed you in here was because, just like Alex, you have bipolar disorder. We want him to warm up to you. We don't want him to see you as just a doctor, because, if you haven't noticed yet, Alex hates doctors; we want him to see you more as someone who understands him better than anyone else because, essentially, you do understand him better than anyone else. Just act."

And with that he walked further into the room, leaving me awkwardly standing at the doorframe. He wanted me to pretend that I was a patient, just so that Alex would trust me more? I assumed that the two of us already had a pretty strong bond, almost as if we had clicked right away, but maybe that was just my imagination.

What if Alex actually hated me and he was hiding behind that mask, which Dr Jardine explained about? Maybe Dr Armstrong was right about me having to get to know him better by being more of a patient rather than a doctor even though, of course, he already considered me to be a doctor. Maybe he was more open with me because of the similarity in age and he didn't enjoy talking to people who were a whole lot older than him.

I wandered back over to the group and took my seat again. Alex gave me a questioning look, silently asking what I had talked about with the doctor but, before I could explain anything, the session began.

"Good morning, everyone. From now on we will have one more person joining in with our group discussions," Dr Armstrong announced and I knew he was talking about me. "He isn't exactly a patient, like all of you, but you'll see him around quite a lot. Would you like to introduce yourself?" He turned to look at me with raised eyebrows. I shook my head to his question, not wanting to be the centre of attention in a room full of mentally unstable people. Honestly, I was terrified that I would say something which would accidentally trigger one of them and... Ta da! One less stable patient and one more hanging body.