damned_institute | Day 25: Intercom, Evening

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Day 25: Intercom, Evening

The intercom clicked on with its usual jingle, the Head Doctor's voice carrying with a bit more authoritative ease than it had earlier.

"Good evening, patients, and I'm pleased to announce that we've finally finished organizing when our new batch of patients will be introduced, and unfortunately, it'll have to be tonight while you're all in bed. Truly sad, that, as I'm sure all of you are eager to see our new faces as soon as possible!

"In any case, the dinner that will be brought to you tonight will be herb-marinated pork roast with buttery corn-on-the-cob and fluffy mashed potatoes. Of course, we have our usual vegetarian salad available to those who request it, along with our regular assortment of drinks."

He paused and sighed. After all, it had been a long day.

"Oh, of course--Some of you may be unhappy to hear that Dr. Crane and Dr. Jiyani will no longer be serving us here at Landel's Institute. For those of you who were scheduled to have sessions with them, we'll be providing a substitute group therapy session in upcoming days. More details on that tomorrow.

"I believe that's all for now. Enjoy your dinner!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ As always, post to this entry with separate threads for each set of roommates. Thanks! ]

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Renji looked up slightly, just enough to confirm that it was Hisoka, and that Hisoka wasn't standing anywhere near him. "Hey." He waved vaguely toward the desks, where dinner was sitting, then turned back to the wall. In the brief moment his hand had been up, the new scabs across the palm had been visible; they were just starting to go tacky. "'m takin' a nap," he said. Hopefully Hisoka would take the hint and leave him alone.

Oh yes, Hisoka had gotten the hint alright, but being the stubborn 'brat' he was, he wasn't about to just back down just yet. The bastard had poked and prodded him (although not that much, so Hisoka would show mercy) about talking to others when he needed to get stuff off his chest. Was he about to ignore his own words now?

The brief sight of the nail marks in the palm of his hand only further convinced Hisoka that something had happened. Something beyond the usual fights that took place.

"Did you get into a fight?" He asked casually, keeping a sharp eye on his roommate's body language, waiting for something to give him away.

A fight would explain things, Renji supposed. And it wasn't a lie. It had been a fight, a fight he'd lost, and...

One shoulder slowly moved up, and down, in a shrug. "Yeah. Got sedated." Also not a lie. Just not in that order. The smell of food was starting to make him feel ill all over again. He told himself it was because of the drugs; those did bad things to his stomach. He hadn't felt right the last time he got sedated, either.

There was something being left out and, like with Tsuzuki, Hisoka couldn't figure out what. It was irritating beyond belief and Hisoka didn't even know why he bothered. He didn't care about what his roommate did during his free time, it wasn't his business.

"...Both the goddamn same," he muttered under his breath, stalking over to his desk where his his dinner waited.

Hisoka's muttering aside, he didn't actually ask anything else, and that was just fine with Renji. He drew his knees a little toward his chest, laying more comfortably. Maybe he would be able to sleep. The doors would unlock soon, and then he would have things to do, things to think of. He had to figure out how to teach three raw kids, one of whom was injured. Maybe he'd have enough in him to try to heal Tamaki again, but he doubted it.

His hands hurt, as did his wrists. It probably didn't help that he was clenching his hands in time with his breathing.

Hisoka ate his meal in silence, a dark glower on his face as his fought to keep his eyes from wandering over to the other side of the room. It wasn't his business, Tsuzuki was the one to jump into everything and try to comfort everyone without knowing the situation before knowing what the hell was even going on. So far, all he knew was that the guy went from down-to-business to screaming to sleeping in the Sun Room, which was interupted when orderlies--

He froze, choking on his bite as his mind made the connections. There was no way. Really. There was no way what he was thinking could have been even remotely true. Hisoka beat against his chest, coughing as tears welled up.

This place couldn't be that fucked up, he was hoping. And Hisoka rarely ever did that.

Again, Renji looked slowly over his shoulder at Hisoka. "You okay?" he asked. He gave Hisoka a tired, ghostly version of his normal smile. "Food was meant to be swallowed, not breathed."

Hisoka graced his oh-so-intelligent roommate with his usual 'fuck you' sign even as he took in the appearance of his face. That did nothing to help, it only convinced him even more of what happened. Or what could have possibly happened. Still coughing, the boy grabbed the glass of water nearby and took a large gulp.

It made sense. Doctor sessions were still going...

When Hisoka no longer seemed on the verge of death by choking, Renji once more turned to the wall, closing his eyes. Conversation with Hisoka was challenging on the best of days, like a verbal sword fight rather than a pleasant pastime. While it would've been a welcome distraction - a much needed, desperately needed one - he didn't have it in him right now.

Swallowing the rebellious bite of food, Hisoka placed the cup back into its place and sighed. So now what? ...Why the fuck was he even still thinking of this anyway? Didn't he have other things to deal with? (And whatever happened to 'none of his business'?) The boy sighed, pushing his dinner around his plate.

"You had therapy last shift."

Well there went 'none of his business'...

"Yeah,so?" Renji mumbled. His shoulders crept slowly up, tension making them tight.

So that was it. Something happened during therapy... There could be no other possibility, the red haired man was looking like he was about to snap with the tension. If anything, now was probably a good time to pull back from questioning and leave things as they were. But it was gnawing at him.

What were the chances that Tsuzuki and Renji could have the same doctors?

It was such a small probability... Hisoka wasn't sure if it was the hatred and urge for revenge taking over his logic, deciding that Muraki was behind every bad thing that had ever happened. The boy wrestled with himself. To ask, or not to ask?

Midway through the silence, Renji realized that he was grinding his teeth. He made himself relax by force. Out of habit, he ran his fingers through his hair, only to encounter the nasty snarl that the... gag that had been tied on to him had left behind.

He sat up; he managed to keep that slow, because he really did feel tired. But as he began working his fingers through his hair, trying to get the knot out, there was a tremor to his hands and a jerkiness to the movement of his arms that made the motion frantic even if it was slow.

The nagging, biting, just plain annoying feeling to ask finally won out as Hisoka watched his roommate. He was too frazzled, something Muraki was wonderful at doing to others. Things were adding up and as paranoid as it sounded to constantly blame the silverhaired doctor, Hisoka was now positive that it had something to do with him. So without further ado, the boy casually turned his eyes to his fork, watching Renji out of the corner of his eye.

"You had Muraki..."

Renji froze for a moment, then visciously tore the remains of the knot out of his hair. He dropped the ragged ball of hair on the floor, then laid back down.

"Does it matter?" he asked. Hearing the name made him feel sicker, made his voice thick.

It did, because it answered everything.

Absolutely everything.

Hisoka could feel a vicious lash a hatred well up in his chest at the knowledge that there was something else Muraki had ruined. Someone else Muraki had broken. The boy didn't want to know what the bastard had done and merely took another bite from his dinner, not replying to Renji's question.

Renji squeezed his eyes tightly closed, glad that no one could see the shameful expression. "Don't," he said, quietly. "...please."

...He sounded like Tsuzuki. He sounded like the idiot behind his mask of smiles and laughs whenever something was wrong. The similarities sickened him.

A part of Hisoka was waiting for the other man to straighten up and laugh it off like whatever had happened was nothing.

"...Don't what?"

What was he thinking? This was Hisoka. The kid would leave him alone if he just shut up. Or at least he could hope. And... whether he knew or guessed or what, he knew he could at least trust him to keep his suspicions to himself. That was the way Hisoka was.

The kid already hadn't liked him, probably hadn't respected him. Nothing changed. Except now, Renji didn't feel like he deserved any respect, either. So it didn't matter. None of it.

"Never mind."

Never mind.

Never mind.

Hisoka didn't get what irked him by those words so much, but just as Renji suspected, he kept quiet. He had learned exactly what he wanted to learn even though that changed just about nothing. Muraki was still as untouchable-- unkillable-- as ever. Knowing that he had done something else (and that he, himself, was bound to see him tomorrow) did not do anything but make the boy sick with hate. He pushed the mashed potatoes around his plate, eyes narrowed as he fought to think straight.

And not about murder either.

Renji opened his eyes. He didn't want to stare at the wall any longer. Hisoka had brought it up, had shattered his fragile illusion that he really was just going to take a nap. He had things to do before the doors opened. He needed to be responsible, to stop being so pathetic and weak about it. He'd already been pathetic and weak enough for one day.

He stood, still a little unsteady on his feet, and started pulling the sheet off his bed.

Despite Hisoka's attempts, thinking straight didn't come to him easily. If anything, it didn't even bother to grace the empath with even a moment of clarity, leaving the boy even further frustrated and enraged.

Why pick Renji? Did Muraki know he was a shinigami or was whatever had been inflicted done for kicks? Wrong place wrong time...?

"You were beautiful that night."

Hisoka nearly shot out his desk, deciding to follow Renji's lead in preparing for nightshift. Sitting here thinking would only lead to further disaster, he knew this from experience. He didn't always finish his paperwork for nothing...

Renji glanced at Hisoka. Maybe he needed to get stuff ready to. Or maybe... stuff he didn't want to think about. Renji gave himself a little shake, then went back to pulling the sheet off his bed. He laid it out neatly and started collected the metal from the previous night from the places around the room he'd hidden it in. He arranged it carefully on the sheet, mostly so it'd make a manageable bundle that wouldn't clank too much as he ran. Mostly.

And the more detail, the easier it was to ignore everything else.

There were many things he could do right now. He just had absolutely no idea what his assignment would be and bringing the proper equipment would probably help-

It took three long seconds to realize he was itching to pace. He hated dinnershift, being locked in a room was always enough to drive him mad, but being locked in with someone else...?

Hissing under his breath, the boy turned sharply and stalked over to the closet. He could figure out what to bring later, he might as well train now. He had been putting it off for too long already.

Renji paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to see what Hisoka was doing. It was more a nervous tic than any real curiousity. The kid was just getting ready for the evening, he guessed. Which was what he ought to keep working on.

Renji went back to getting the metal into order. After a moment of consideration, he pulled the pillow case off his pillow. He could use it to pad and muffle things a bit. He also had the old, dirty sheet from last night as well.

Day 25: Intercom, Evening

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