Creating the New Reality

The two young nurses whispered together with shifty eyes, their hushed voices meant for each other's ears, and each other's ears alone although the same words had been spoken many times, and by many before them. They gossiped of a boy—well, young man, really—who was 'due' to wake up that evening, some time soon. They whispered with wide eyes about how strange and queer the situation really was; a seventeen year old young man, who sunk into comas regularly, and woke from them, regularly. It was planned, in the mental hospital, though only those who tended to him knew of this. But, a date set up like a holiday did not easily go unnoticed by a relatively small institution such as theirs. As such, buzzing whisperings akin to that of the two nurse's were going on all over the hospital at this time, though ranging in the level of belief and interest on the matter. There were many rooms in the mental hospital which only a select few staff had ever seen the inside of, so why should this one patient be so different? Although, the more disbelieving of them thought, it was almost... unimaginable, his symptoms, that was; regular comas, which everyone prepared for in advance, everyone aware of this queer event but the perpetrator his self.

Mind-blowing, one man in particular thought, a smile on his face and white coat dawning his form professionally, yet casually. He held an air of suavity about him, maybe even a hint of smugness, as he strode in a graceful, yet still masculine, manner down the glowing, bright white hallway one would expect as a feature of a place such as that. His brown hair was smooth, just like his self, his strong jaw and relatively high cheekbones adding greatly to his captivating appearance and atmosphere. His tall form rounded a corner in a deliberate and flowing movement, coming to a natural halt before the door featured in the rut of a dead end. The indented place in the wall went about seven feet deep, and spanned about five feet wide, the walls still white and smooth, but lacking the unnatural glowing of the rest of the hallway in which it was a part of. An almost ominous shadow, some would and have said, cloaked the last few feet of the unique space, while a brother of it's kind had crawled and settled over the left over surface area, keeping the area dim and subdued. One could barely read the lovely message on a silver plate that decorated the, for the most part, plain door, reading: Restricted. All in all, this dead/beginning end both repelled and attracted those who passed it when going about whatever business it was they had, it's mystery calling out to some, and it's dark aura choking others, appealing to their instincts with warnings to flee—warnings of danger.

The doctor stepped forward, heading for the darkness as his smile morphed into an impish grin that spoke of more innocence than what truly existed. His silver plated name-tag, reading Dr. Gore simply for his amusement, glinted one last time in the light of the hallway before he was encased in the darkness of the daunting door. One would have missed the strange glint in his eyes as he reached for the handle of his patient’s door, and pushed it open to reveal...

--

James lounged on his side, having just awoken from another of his... unsettling 'dreams', though he could not remember them a bit. He could just recall the feelings it brought forth from inside him, of contentment, of insecurity, of desperation... and, this was what unsettled him, a feeling of love. Yes, where ever or who ever it was that he went to in those blank periods of time, he was in love with them. Every time he awoke, the feeling was stronger and his certainty on the matter was strengthened. Along with his uncertainty. For, why would he continue returning to this bland, box of a world if he had all he'd ever need to be happy some place else? Was it because he had something to live for here as well? Was he being tested to see what he craved the most? Or... who he craved the most.

He looked over from the place on the ceiling he had been staring quite intensely at, for however long, to see his only comfort in the 'hospital world', as he called it, walk through the one door in the only room he could remember ever inhabiting. He imagined the door to have made a sound upon his doctor's entrance, because he could not yet admit to his self that he was waiting for the moment in which it would open to reveal the man.

“Are you feeling well?” His doctor spoke kindly, wonderfully, as he closed the door soundlessly behind him, not even the click of a lock.

“Yeah, I'm fine...” Jerick eyed the door the doctor had just entered though, sitting up in his bed to better view both his doctor and room. “Why is that door never locked?” Don't you think I will run away? At first, when he could first remember waking up in this room, that was, he hadn't noticed it, hadn't cared a bit about his surroundings, too lost in his confusion to care for anything else. Why was he there? Why couldn't he remember anything? That was the only manner in which he could think back then: of himself. Now he wondered about the doctor, wondered about the hospital in which he was encased, wondered about the situation of his existence, and wondered why nothing ever made perfect sense. His mind was only ever truly at peace when he stopped wondering, and let his doctor sweep him away in careless talk of nothing in particular. He'd thought he wouldn't prefer it that way, but he did. He loved to just toss his thoughts and musings aside, to focus solely on the admirable man... who was now stalking forward, an unrecognizable look in his eyes.

Dr. Gore sat on the edge of his bed abruptly, breaking whatever spell of fear he had somehow cast over James in that freezing moment when he sighed out thoughtfully, tapping one side of his chin as he 'hmm'ed to his self. “What would make you think that it isn't locked?” He finally answered, grinning just slightly. James felt his mouth drop.

He waved an impatient hand towards the door; “Because you never lock it! And I never hear you unlocking it before you come in!”

“But maybe I'm just smooth like that, eh, James?” He shook his head slightly, smiling alongside the other, not without some resistance, and feeling the effects of his doctor's infectious grin, like always. He kept his gaze locked on the man pointedly, feeling almost stubborn enough to put his hands on his hips and demand a better answer.

The doctor stared back at him, his gaze level and calculating, his mouth set in a contemplative slant, before easing back into his natural smile as he opened his mouth to speak again; “Well, go try to door for yourself; decide if it's open or not.” James was stunned, but gathered up his scattered brain quickly enough to evaluate the other's expression; his smile hadn't faltered, though all hints of teasing were gone from his voice, and his kind eyes held something... unrecognizable in their depths.

James stood slowly from his bed, watching his doctor with barely concealed surprise opening his eyes slightly wider than normal as he tentatively crossed the room, approaching a door he had always given a wide birth. He hesitated, not three feet from the door, nervously going over the situation in his mind; if the door wasn't open, like it most probably wasn't, then he would feel a bit stupid, but he would have his answer... and he would be comfortable with it, unless he started wondering again. On the other hand, though... if the door was open, he didn't know what would happen—what either of them would do.

“Come on, James, there's really nothing for you to be scared of.” Oh, he knew exactly how to goad him into action.

With an angry hiss of something akin to 'not scared of shit, ya bastard' James practically lunged at the door he had always considered untouchable, twisting the knob with his irrational, senseless and childish fury.

He stilled and dropped his hand away a moment later; the door was locked.

James stood, panting, for whatever reason he couldn't identify, the feel of the cool metal of the room door burned into the feel of his skin. He waited with a heaving chest for his senses to calm down, reminding his self that all he had done was jiggle a door handle; nothing more, nothing less. But, no matter how truthful that was, he didn't believe it, and he didn't understand why. He felt... like he had been on the borderline of life, and death; victory and defeat... He felt like he had almost condemned his self to Hell.

He turned slowly on the spot, his breathing still irregular, but more under control, and walked, his eyes on the floor, back over to lie on his bed.

“I don't really feel good...” Not anymore. James curled a little into his self, trying to control the floundering of his mind as it hastened to understand what it had just undertook. That door... had felt like the gateway to Hell... or heaven; strangely like it was up to him to decide where it took him, but he hadn't been ready, it slowly dawned on him. And then he realized what he was thinking, and lost his newfound enthusiasm for the subject. He started drifting, falling into an uneasy sleep. He felt the bed shift beside him and was dimly aware of the doctor standing up, petting his hair fondly and walking out the door, leading to god knows where.

--

Jame woke up gradually, a foreign unease marring his belly. He turned over in his bed, watching the alarm clock flash red numbers at him. It was hours before he realized it was blaring out sound in angry blasts... or maybe no time at all. He pulled his body up, reaching a pale hand over and turning the alarm clock around to turn off the alarm, when a larger hand reached around him and took his own in its grasp.

“Remember, you don't have to do that here, Jame.” And then the sound was gone; it took him a minute before he realized what had caused the sudden change. He fell back into the bed with a sigh, feeling despair monopolize his emotions. He watched as all that was around him flickered in and out of existence, the features of their room changing with their rapid thoughts and whims. Sometimes it wasn't even a room at all. Jame closed his eyes, turning around into the chest of the other.

“Sometimes I dream that the door hadn't opened... that I'd just stayed in that never-changing room forever.” He wished he had.

“I know,” replied the man from before. “You take me with you every time you go.” He could almost see the smile rising to the other's face, almost. He didn't look at the man anymore, not since realizing that he was always different; but he always felt the same, at least. “It's quite entertaining, refreshing, too, to get out every once in a while.” Yes, he had one overactive imagination. Enough to recreate his old reality, if he was remembering correctly.

A/N:

This is a very cut down version of a story I'm writing; I decided to use it for a short story I had to write for English. I mean 'cut down' as in, I edited the plot a lot, so much so that this turned out completely different than the story, so it's more like a little cut out portion of the story, though this will not be in the story.

Please tell me what you think; I wrote this in one day, procrastinating between paragraphs and RPing at the same time, but I had to get it done for class the next day, so here it is; finished an shining. Hope you enjoyed reading.