Clean » 1D Fanfic

Liam

SORRY FOR MISTAKES

ENJOY

I can't sleep, as usual. It's my third day in this strange, uncomfortable bed and I'm still not used to it. For the past couple of nights, I just lay here listening to this place's version of "night". Where the lights are never fully off, doors never fully closed, and at least one person on guard.

Margret, the assistant counselor, is who is stuck with hall duty tonight. From my room, I can hear the click, click, click from her metal knitting needles as she knits a hideous thing she  tries to call a sweater. I can hear her deep, dry wheezes who obviously has a bad history of smoking. If you were to picture a drug addict in your head, it'd surely be her. Not me. Not your every day, next door white boy.

It's been about ten minutes since Margret last checked on me. It will be another five until she's back again. All this fuss because the stupid doctor asked, "Have you ever had thoughts about hurting yourself?"

What seventeen-year-old in rehab could honestly say no?

I sigh deeply as I blankly stare into the hallway. I wonder if the constant blinking of the lights has ever caused anyone to have a seizure. Or if the steady clicking from Margret's knitting needles has ever driven someone to hysteria. Total silence would be nice. I could get used to that. But that may be bad for someone of the people here. The silence may be the reason some may be insane.

But tonight was different. I can hear Margret's walkie-talkie cackle something about a "late-night admit". I then hear her light footsteps as she makes her way down the hall to my room. I quickly close my eyes and pretend that I am asleep. Margret pokes her head in my already open doorway to check on me. I can smell her signature smell from my bed—cherry blossom mixed with sweat. Absolutely disgusting. Margret soon leaves my room and I hear the beep, beep, beep of the code-locked door to the lobby. I hear the door open, soon slamming shut afterwards. Then silence.

It's several minutes before I hear Margret come back into my room, but this time, another pair of footsteps are with her.

"I can't believe I can't have my own room." A new voice says, a boy, Irish that is, with a stuck up tone.

"Niall, please keep your voice down. People are trying to sleep."

They leave the room and I fear the sound of another door opening and closing. It's to the Nurse's office. Everyone knows the sound of that door. I can't hear their voices, but I know Margret is asking Niall questions for the "paperwork". She's telling him all the rules and procedures. Going through his bag, checking every pocket on his jeans and shirts and any other place he could hide things, confiscating any possible weapons.

I continue to pretend that I'm asleep when I hear them come back into my room. Well, our room now. Wow, I don't like the sound of that.

Margret turns on the overhead light and talks to Niall in a terribly fake whisper. You know, that kind of whisper that is almost, maybe even louder, than the person's original voice?

I turn over so I'm not facing them, so I'm not tempted to open my eyes. I don't want to suffer through an awkward and embarrassing introducing with my stinky breathe and pillow-creased face. I try to focus and keep my breathing slow and steady to make it seem as if I'm sleeping.

I hear a bag or suitcase flop on to a bed, zippers unzip and drawers open and close. "That's your sink. Bathroom n'showers are down the hall, to the left. Wake-up's at eight sharp. Someone will be down here to come get you. That–sleeping over there–is your roommate, Liam. Nice boy." Margret says.

Nice boy? I wait for Margret to say more, but that's all she says. Nice boy. Oh well, I'll work with that.

There's a heavy silence in the room. It's almost suffocating. I imagine them staring each other down: Margret with her permanent frown on her face, hand on her hip; this Niall kid with his snobby attitude. He's probably just a another skinny white boy like me, that Margret could crush in her hand if she wanted to.

"Do you need anything?" Margret asks, her tone basically hoping for Niall to say no.

The silence still lingers so Margret says, "All right then. I'm down the hall if you need anything. Try to sleep off whatever you're on, yeah?"

"But I'm not on anything?" Niall says.

"Yeah," Margret scoffs, "That's what they all say."

"Aren't you going to close the door?" Niall asks.

"Not until your roommate is off suicide watch," Margret tells her, "Night kid."

I hear her steps fade away as she goes back to her perch, the click, click, click of her needles following.

I lie still, listening to my roommate move her things here and there. He's moving faster than anyone should at this time of night. He continues this for a few minutes, then walks over to the permanently locked window. I peek my eyes open a little to see him, shadowed, only a thin outline of his lips and nose provided by the moonlight. I can't tell if he's cute or not, whether he's scared or sad or angry either. Darkness makes everyone look the same.

He soon turns around, making me shut my eyes tight. He gets into his bed between the door and mine. Neither of us move. I try to match my breathing with his, but he's too erratic. He breathes fast, then slow, then holds his breath, as if he's testing me. Margret does come by to check to make sure I haven't killed myself, so surprise there, but once she leaves, the new boy and I sigh at the same time. After, our breathing falls into a kind of rhythm. Everything else is silent.

The room is empty except for us, two complete strangers. Close enough to touch, pretending to be asleep.