Young and Doomed | Frerard

Chapter Ten

Mikey had never known the world could look like this.

He hadn't known anything was out of the ordinary, of course, until he'd put them on, but he was amazed nonetheless. This was incredible! Everything was different; clear and defined.

"Glasses make it a little easier, huh?" Dr. Witt asked good-humoredly, and Mikey nodded with enthusiasm. He'd spent the morning with a physical therapist, examining his back (he still wasn't sure what was wrong with it, but the doctor hadn't seemed to know either), before going to the radiology lab for X-rays. It was his first time out of his room since his arrival, and even though he'd had to be pushed in a wheelchair, it had been a rather fascinating experience. The hospital was so big and there were so many people here! Bob said he didn't know any of them when Mikey had asked, and Mikey had wanted to talk to them himself but Dr. Witt had told him it was probably best if he didn't.

"Not all the patients here are mentally . . . stable, Michael." Dr. Witt had said as they'd walked and Mikey wheeled, picking his words slowly. "You shouldn't encounter or have a chance to interact with any of them during your stay here, but it's good knowledge now that you're out and about. Every now and then one will get out and wreak havoc until someone catches them again. I swear, you'd almost think they do it for fun," Dr. Witt shook his head. "I'd tell you how to respond if you did meet one, but I think you know more about that than me."

Which Mikey did not, but he kept his mouth shut anyway.

"Michael," Dr. Witt spoke suddenly, drawing Mikey's attention back to the present. "I have another patient I've got to go meet with so I'd better run. See you tomorrow,"

"Okay," Mikey smiled a little, before turning to Bob. The other boy was on his phone, as usual. The only times he wasn't on the small device was when he left for the cafeteria, was sleeping, or was at school (another thing Mikey had yet to experience).

"Bob," He whispered loudly, and Bob glanced up. "What's up?"

"I can see!" Mikey was still whispering, and pointed to his glasses as he did so. Bob mouthed an exaggerated wow, laughing a little. "Yeah, I heard, dude. Where'd you think I've been this whole time?"

"I don't know!" Mikey got off his bed, walking over to the sink. He was only allowed out of bed to use the room's tiny bathroom in the back corner, and to wash his hands. He hoped that looking at his reflection in the mirror counted as washing his hands as he leaned forward, messing his hair around with his fingers.

"You need a haircut," Bob observed, and Mikey shrugged noncommittally. Maybe he did, he wasn't sure. He looked okay in the mirror; his eyes looked tired and his hair was a wreck, but overall everything was fine.

That was, until he moved his hands down to his neck. His fingers caught on a surface unlike the rest of the smooth skin, and he stopped. Pushing the hair away from the side of his face, Mikey revealed his ear – torn and shredded. Small lightning bolts of scars ran down the side of his neck, stopping before his collarbone. They were pale white in some places, but angry and red in others.

What on Earth?

"B-Bob," Mikey said, slowing his words in an attempt not to stutter. Bob let out a huff. "What, Mikey – " He stopped short as he looked over at the boy, his hair held away from his neck. "Whoa, dude,"

"What are they?" Mikey asked, running a finger along one of the lines. They didn't seem like they were supposed to be there, but they weren't painful either.

"Uh, scars?" Bob suggested, before sitting up a little. "Get over here, lemme see,"

Mikey complied, tilting his head for examination and staying still as Bob looked over them. Bob released a long breath, his brows shooting high on his face. "It's almost like a paint ball exploded on your neck or something." He said, and Mikey pulled back, letting his hair fall again. "Paintball?" He asked, and Bob sighed. "That's unimportant. Does it hurt?"