Bruised (Phan) [EDITING]

8

Pj toyed with his oversized shirt, uncomfortably. He tapped his fingers on his bed frame; he was jumpy and anxious. His breathing was shallow and the window above his bed was dark.

Dan couldn't take it any longer, he groaned and turned to face Pj. "What is it? What's wrong?" The tapping was getting to him. He wished Connor were here, he would be able to sleep then.

Pj couldn't seem to find the words he wanted, he hesitated with each inhale. He shook his head, cold sweat dotting his forehead. Dan seemed even more concerned at this, it looked like he was about to puke. Instead, he shot up and ran to the bathroom.

How to be comforting? Dan had no idea, he simply frowned and lay back against his pillows. Then a knock at the door came, a voice followed, "Meds."

Dan rubbed his eyes, sitting up and exhaled a sigh. Supposedly it's a crime to want sleep around here.

The female nurse with the click clackity heels walks in with a silver tray. Pj walked out then, he looked pale and sickly. He grabbed his cup of water and his two pills drinking them down with a gulp.

"Group therapy in ten," she smiled. Dan pulled back his covers and grabbed his cup of water. With a roll of his eyes he gulped the pills.

"I hate group therapy."