Hospital AU đź’š
There were two things George knew for sure. 1) He had a terrible memory and 2) He had an eating disorder. Dementia and Bulimia were the more scientific terms for it. Weird, right? Dementia and he was only 20 years old. Isn’t that the thing old people get? Turns out people of any age can get it! It’s simply just more common in older people.
George’s parents didn’t believe him when he started to not remember things. He forgot chores, pets, showers, friends even. They just assumed he was lazy and antisocial and wanted to get out of jobs around the house and hanging out with people. That was not the case, sure he wasn’t always the most social person but he definitely wasn’t ignoring his friends on purpose.
Eventually, after they had enough of him pretending to forget things, they got him checked out. Brain scans. Tests, blood and memory ones. They did it all. He hated it, the hospital was terrible. Little did he know he would practically be living here after that first visit.
He was about 16 when he was admitted to stay in the care of the hospital. More of a psych ward of sorts. When the doctors tested him for memory issues they also found he was severely underweight. He didn’t eat sometimes and when he did he tried to puke it up. He had gotten so much shit from his peers at school about his weight. Some said he was too skinny, some said he was too fat, some called him a skeleton, others said he should quit eating. Some people complimented his body, telling him he was so pretty and had the perfect figure, that he should stay skinny, more girls would like him that way.
Add all of the comments about his body together and you get a too skinny disaster with dementia. That’s where he stood today, 20 years old in a psych ward for an eating disorder and dementia. He bet his parents didn’t expect this 20 years ago when he was born.
Dream couldn’t say the same. He only had one issue, depression. He was passed around family members houses whenever his parents decided they no longer wanted to take care of him. He felt abandoned most of his life but just kept it to himself. He eventually learned later that both of his parents had depression, he was bound to get it too by genetics alone.
He had been caught multiple times, drugs, self harm, random hook ups, even in attempts to take his own life. After a short amount of time and no discussion with him or his other family member at all, his parents sent him to the psych ward.
18 years old, fresh out of high school, in a psych ward. Today was his first day. There was a nice lady showing him around the place, showed him his room, the common area, the places to eat. There seemed to be so much supervision everywhere. Not to mention everyone around him all looked like sad robots who could only do one thing. NPC would be a better way to describe it, like they only perked up and were useable when a player approached them.
The doctors office was the last place the nice lady showed him. The doctors office was for check ups and medication taking, all that jazz. Sitting on the floor outside of the door was a boy. Brown hair, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, extremely skinny, he had a fidget toy in his hands, he seemed zoned out,
“This is George.” The nice lady introduced them.
George didn’t look up right away. She waved a hand over his face to snap him out of his daze, “-huh? Sorry.” He looked up to them.
“George, this is Dream.” She smiled again.
The brunette on the ground held a hand out to the blonde, “it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.” Dream responded. There was something about this kid that set him apart from everyone else. Whether that was good or bad was unknown to Dream just yet.
The tour moved on and ended with Dream getting dismissed. His room was small but at least he was alone. It was empty and only had one lone window with shades that barely did anything. The floors were tiled with typical doctors office flooring. It sucked.
Sleeping that night was going to be harder than Dream could ever imagine. He cursed his parents for sending him here. He could’ve been fine on his own.
He stayed in the small room for the rest of the day. He watched the sun lower and let his racing thoughts provide him some entertainment. There was one thing Dream thought about a lot, George. There was just something about him that made Dream want to know him better. That would have to wait until the morning.
-
George stepped into the doctors office. With routine, there were things he could remember. Any day he had to visit the doctor for a check up, he had to shove something heavy into his bra. Yes, bra. He stole one from a girl he used to be friends with. He could wrap it around his waist, wear a baggy shirt, shove some rocks or something in it, and no one could tell the difference.
Today was no exception to his remembrance. If he wanted out, he had to fake it. So he did, and got away with it like he always did. He went straight back to his room to take off the bra, he hated it but if it would get him out of here faster, then so be it. The bra stayed in the back of his bottom drawer.
The ward wasn’t really as much of a psych ward as much as it was a rehab place for people with mental illnesses. Well, it was laxer than a real psych ward. Thats what made George feel like he was at least a little normal. It wasn’t a full psych ward, just like half of one.
He went straight to bed after that. He couldn’t be bothered to stay awake any longer than he needed to. Another thing about George was that he loved sleep. If he was able to, George would probably sleep about 20 hours a day. Worst part was, his body would let him. Most people can only sleep so much before their body doesn’t let them anymore, George is not one of those people.
The next morning in the ward was quiet like any other. Most didn’t get up as early as George. He could keep sleeping, most of the time he wanted to, but sometimes getting a head start on the day was refreshing.
It was about 6:30 am when George stepped out of his room. The halls had dim lights while nurses ran around preparing for the morning. They all smiled and waved at the boy as he made his way to the lounge. The lounge was one of his favorite places. It was a separate thing than the common room, the common room was filled with board games and a TV with an old Wii hooked up to it. The lounge however, was only for certain people, the older ones. There were kids at this place, mostly kids in fact. Technically speaking, George was slightly too old to be here but he passed as a 15 year old most of the time and everyone there knew him.
No kids under 15 were allowed in the lounge. They had better games there, better consoles at least. Books of all genres were perfectly placed on every shelf along the walls, a few held video game discs and cartridges as well. But the over all best part of the lounge was the window. Each bedroom only had one small window and it faced into a brick wall depending on what floor you were on. George was included in the small brick window gang. He loved being outside, he wanted to be out there so badly.
The window in the lounge was from ceiling to floor and wall to wall. It looked over a ton of hills with a few back country roads that not many people ever used. The sunrises through the lounge window were amazing, it was one of the few things that always made George feel a little better.
Dream couldn’t sleep, we’ve been over this. He heard a few footsteps outside of his door and assumed he was allowed out. More exploring of the place he would be living in for a long while couldn’t hurt. Eventually he too stumbled across the lounge. The beautiful colors coming from the room grabbed at his attention and dragged him in. Part of him wasn’t surprised to see George in there as well. It only added to Dream’s curiosity.
“Morning.” Dream greeted as he sat down on a couch near George.
George turned his head and almost looked terrified, “Do I know you?”
Wow. He though he was pretty nice yesterday but already forgetting his existence? That definitely knocked some points off, “Yeah? We met yesterday, do you not remember?” The brunette boy shook his head softly, “I’m Dream. You’re still George right?” His joke was meant to be funny but he wasn’t sure if George took it that way.
“Hello Dream, it’s nice to meet you… again?” George responded plainly and turned his head to the sunrise in front of him, it really was beautiful.
“Yeah.. you too.” Dream turned away as well, choosing to ignore the awkwardness and watch the sunrise as well, “It’s cool to think that someone else out there is watching the same sun we are.” He attempted to make conversation.
George smiled, “I think about that a lot as well.”
Dream pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, “Where are you from? Most people from around here don’t sound like that.”
That comment was rewarded with a short side eye followed by an eye roll, “I’m from London but I moved here when I was 14.”
“Cool, I’m not from here either, I came from Florida.”
“Why’d you move here?” George asked curiously.
“I’ve never actually been in this state before yesterday, I think you’ll need to know me a little better before I tell you about that though.”
“Guess we’ll have to talk again sometime.” George commented as he stood from his chair, “I’ve got things to do, maybe I’ll see you later.”
George left quickly, it was nice to talk to him but something seemed off. Sure, he was spacey when they met yesterday, but completely forgetting him? Something there was odd.
-
Dream sat down next to George in the common area for lunch. George once again looked a little nervous sitting next to Dream.
“Do I know you?” George finally spoke up.
Dream shot him an almost disgusted looking face, “You’ve asked me that three times now.”
“Oh… I’m sorry. I-“
“If you don’t want to be friends you can just say that, I’ll leave you alone.” Dream began to get a little impatient, standing up from his seat.
The sitting brunette grabbed Dream’s hand before he could get away, “I’m sorry. I- I have bad memory issues. Dementia to be specific.”
“Isn’t that an old people thing?” Dream looked at him skeptically.
“Usually, but not always.” Dream sat back down slowly as George let go of his hand, “it’s part of the reason I’m here.”
“Ok then. How do you remember things then?”
“After a while I’ll remember.” George sounded a little melancholy as he spoke.
“Does writing something down help?” Dream asked.
George nodded, Dream flagged down a staff member to get a pen. He reached out to George, as if asking for permission. The older boy gave him his arm and Dream proceeded to write on his wrist: Dream was here.
“That will hopefully be hard to forget.” George smiled, “I’m sorry, I should have mentioned that sooner.”
“That’s ok, I was just worried you already hated me.” Dream laughed with self pity. One prominent side effect of Dream’s depression was his lack of self worth. He met someone new and immediately assumed they hated him even if he hadn’t done anything more worthy. It was a tiring cycle that never ended. Of course, adding that with George not remembering who he was, you get a for sure reason that shows someone doesn’t like you.
“How could someone not like you?” George asked, looking up from the graffiti on his wrist and meeting Dream’s eyes, “you seem very nice, from what I remember at least.”
Dream grew a little red at that, most people tried to assure him that they specifically didn’t hate him, not that nobody hated him. There was something comforting about being around George. A feeling that let Dream know he could be himself.
“I feel there’s a lot of reasons for someone not to like me.” Dream laughed, “thank you though, that helps.”
George smiled at him, he seemed so blissfully unaware of everything in the world yet he looked like he had been through so much.
“Foods here!” A nurse greeted as she placed some plates in front of them. It was mandatory that someone watch the patients eat, especially ones like George. The nurse stood to the side, keeping a close eye on the two newly reacquainted boys.
-
Wilbur Soot was a different case. He didn’t have an eating disorder, he did have mild depression but that wasn’t why he was here. He was here because he had schizophrenia. He had all the typical symptoms you heard about regularly: hallucinations, voices, he got psychotic sometimes. There was one person he didn’t mind all that much in the ward, George. Wilbur and George got along very well.
With George forgetting things so often, being friends with him made things easier. Yes, he could forget you exist sometimes, but he also can forget anything you say easily. You can talk absolute shit about people to George and he won’t snitch, he won’t even remember. It was great, with all the voices and things Wilbur thought he heard, being able to tell someone who wouldn’t call him crazy was like a breath of fresh air.