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The story is simple.
Depressed boy meets crazy, possibly legally insane, girl at therapy and their whirlwind adventure begins.
Korin and Micha had only one thing in common: they had each discovered the...
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Imagination running wild:
Plant magic beans then climb the beanstalk
Fight a giant or mob of angry midgets
Embrace my Romeo without the suicide ending
Yell at the sun like a crazy old person (don't forget the angry fist shake)
Korin left me alone to shower in his bathroom and to get comfortable. The hospital scrubs were giving both of us an anxiety attack: one of the commonalities we had. I wasn't sure what he has for me to change into since I was so much taller than he was, but it'd be interesting to see either way. Taped to his mirror was the napkin drawing I did at the café; it was kind of sweet in a creepy stalker like way.
Why did he keep this? It isn't a very good picture. If he wants something nice, a decent rendering, I can make him one. It's the least I could do since he broke me out of the hospital.
Would he get mad if I use his toothbrush? I wondered, looking at the toothbrush on the vanity.
If I washed it off really good with water then splashed it with Listerine when I'm done it should kill any mouth germs I might have, right? If he gets mad I can buy him a new one I suppose.
Being the semi-nosey person that I was, I played in his medicine cabinet and vanity drawers as I brushed my teeth.
It was anticlimactic to say the least.
The soft knock at the door startled me.
"Did you fall in?" Korin asked through the door.
"No. I'm looking through all of your stuff." I opened the door and continued to brush my teeth with one hand while the other went through his medicine cabinet. "Do you take these?" I asked, appalled, holding up a bottle of anti-depressants.
Korin leaned against the doorframe and watched me. "Not any more. I tried them for a month. Killed my sex drive, not that I really had one, but I was literally reading Playboy for the articles while I was on those damn things. Dad thinks I need them because Dr. Joyce informed him that I did, so I flush one a day down the toilet in the morning. The good doctor has been writing me prescriptions hand over foot since our sessions started, but usually I toss them."
"They have good street value," I mumbled before spitting then rinsed his toothbrush off.
Korin looked between me and the toothbrush. "Did you want to get dressed? John has his own room here so I took some of his clothes. The pants might be a bit long, but at least they won't be high water... Not that I'm complaining in the least about the towel," he said, blushing.
"Damn, and here I was hoping to get in your pants," I said. "I'm a bit disappointed. Your medicine box isn't nearly as exciting as I was hoping it was going to be. Now mine is impressive. I have enough drugs in there to make a Mona Lisa and Van Gogh out of pills!"
