Young Writers Society

A/N: I tried writing in a different way. Hopefully, you guys enjoy it. ^^

Have you ever noticed something? Like, something that just catches your eyes and you never know how to feel about it until it’s gone? A welcoming smell that reminds you of your childhood. A TV show that preserves some feeling in your heart. When we see, hear, or smell these things it gives us that reason worth living. That one thing that can keep you stable in any sort of environment.

Ryan woke up earlier than usual. The alarm clock ticked away the hours as he spent looking at the ceiling. Outside, in the dark, there was a myriad of cars, whispers, and drunken laughter. He sighed. Sleep seemed impossible, a small piece of his day that slipped away. Everytime he had tried to close his eye, a nightmare that was filled with a middle schooler being laughed at. It made his stomach turn and had then decided to just stay up. He knew it was silly, rehashing a wound that he longed forgotten but his brain had other plans.

Ryan ripped his view from the ceiling to look outside. His bedroom had a window, which was opened due to it being warm, that gave him the perfect view of the stars. The only problem was the moon. Though he liked looking at the moon and how it had given him a great light for reading, there were times where it was downright annoying. If he laid wrong, the moonlight was spill across his face, brightening his dreams like the sun. And when he would turn over, he felt that someone was watching him from the corner of the room.

Also, living in the city ruins the view of the stars. It’s like you pay for a show that you heard is really great but it turns out it is just like any other show out there. Full of props that hardly fit on the stage. Actors who speak too fast. The lights are too bright so you can’t see the actor’s facial features.

So, he laid there, completely touched by what thoughts he was thinking and what his thinking made him thought. There were moments where he went back to what he saw at the psych ward. The heart shaped lollipops that were on the front desk. Matthew’s right shirt sleeve creased exactly seven times. Water residue on the cement blocks. The sounds from each door, holding a monster within. The feel of the paper on his finger tips, the rush of disappointment of a new patient. He had then stopped at Tad. Of course, how could anyone forget the crazy look in his eye? The faint tint of red that lined his cheeks when he smiled or the yellowing shade of his teeth. The oily hair that sprung up in different directions.

And it was a recurring thing. Ryan had always noticed things that most people didn’t see. Careless to just push it aside like last month’s garbage or something. Thoughts like these gave him such anxiety that he often shut down his brain for a second or two before rethinking.

Ryan sighed angrily, watching the morning sun rise. The light slowly fogged up the window before glowing on the carpeted floor. His alarm clock kept ticking as he got up. It was slow movement as if he was hoping that the workday could go by and he wouldn’t have to go. Sure, he could’ve called in but he didn’t want to deal with the questioning of the assistant manager, Rebby who spoke so loud and squeaky that Ryan was sure his hearing had deafen slowly.

As he drove to work, the same events from yesterday happened. Drunken people walking sluggishly in the streets. Homeless people huddling in cardboard boxes. It made him feel horrible, not because he couldn’t do anything, but he didn’t like see them suffering. He turned on the radio ignoring the scene around him.

Matthew was waiting for him in the parking lot, holding two cups of coffee. Ryan sighed.

“Hey, Ryan, how’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Ryan said as he slammed the car door.

“I brought you coffee. Well, no, I didn’t. I was accidentally given the second coffee because the lady working at the shop was like ‘buy one, get two free’ or something stupid.”

Ryan muttered as Matthew handed him the cup of coffee.

“So yeah. My mornings off to a great start.” The two began walking to the door, Matthew making complementary on the people he saw driving here. Ryan made noises as relation to whatever he was talking about but he didn’t care. The coffee tasted bland, he noticed. Not enough sugar, Ryan thought as he took another gulp. Matthew continued to talk, but it seemed boring. Instead, Ryan found himself looking at the building. He hadn’t noticed before but it was turning brown from rainstorm that had four days ago. There were trees around the perimeter that needed water. Pink flowers were planted near the entrance in curvy clay pots. All of these go unnoticed by other people but why? He sighed, throwing the coffee cup into a nearby garbage can.

Ryan went to his desk, picking up the file for today. He had another meeting with Tad but it seemed to run longer because after that meeting, he was free to go home. Luke doesn’t need to be seen? That’s weird.

So, waiting for time to past, Ryan fiddled with his thumbs, wrote a two-paged report on how the human mind works, and ate a footlong sandwich. When it was time to meet with Tad, there was a slim realization that he should’ve done something more with his life. He walked slowly to the cell, matching the steps with his breathing, a practice he had done since a child. The downside of it was time seemed to go faster as he had nothing to do so he spent his time looking around him. Noticing all of the little things like sounds of distance patients yelling, running water echoed off the cement walls, and the fluorescent lights that dimmed before having that sudden blink of light. Ryan sighed, tucking the file under his arm as he reached Tad’s cell.

When he opened the door, Tad was on his bed, head bent and drawing with charcoal on a piece of paper. From first glance, it almost seemed like a decapitated person dancing.

“Good morning, Tad. How’re you?”

Tad looked up and smiled. “Great! I’m just drawing something. How’re you?”

“Fine. Let’s begin.”

Tad nodded, placing his piece of paper in the corner of his bed. “Okay.”

“So, do you know why you’re here?”

Tad thought for a moment, biting his lip and looking at the ceiling. “Because I’m incurable.”

“Do you remember anything before you came here?” Ryan asked. Tad frowned, eyes glaring at the floor.

“My sister and parents being brutally stabbed in front of me,” Tad calmly said.

Ryan gulped silently. “Do you know why they were stabbed?”

Tad narrowed his eyes. “Payment.” He then regained composure by looking up at Ryan, smiling. “How long have you worked here, Dr. Manhattan?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t about me, Tad. We’re here for you.”

“Change of topic is always good,” Tad mused, threading his fingers together.

Ryan sighed, frowning at the paper in front of him. There was a small silence between the two men, of course, Ryan couldn’t help hear Tad’s muttering. He glanced up from his paper to stare at the nineteen year old. He didn’t mean to think such things but Tad looked remarkably handsome in the sunlight. Like, in a friendly way. Even though he noticed it before, the freckles that ran along the bridge of Tad’s nose seemed to be darker in the sunlight. The way his eyes scrunched up when he was thinking or whispering under his breath. He scowled, resuming to look at the paper.

Tad sighed. “Do you know when I’m getting fed again?”

“Are you not being fed here?”

Tad absentmindedly shook his head. “Nearly every day I’m fed but it’s tasteless oatmeal. I feel like I’m a prisoner.” He then looked at Ryan, pleading with his eyes. “Is there anyway you could see if the cook can sweeten my oatmeal?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Tad. I’m only a doctor.”

Tad sighed sadly. “It was worth a shot.” Then got his piece of paper, licked his thumb and started to smudge the charcoal to shade in the headless figure. Ryan watched him, letting the pen rest of the paper pad he held. The movement of Tad’s thumb reminded Ryan of a moment in his life. His brother used to be a street artist that drew people before going to school to be a lawyer (“a sudden change,” Ryan had said). But, Ryan would spend hours on end watching his brother draw. He had enjoyed how the charcoal darken then lighten, like a shadow on a spring day. At one point, his brother had offered Ryan a chance to learn but he turned him down. Decided to stay studying on his own thing than learning about a new thing.

Ryan, in short, was a afraid of change.

Tad had stopped drawing and looked at Ryan with wonder in his eyes. “Are you okay, Dr. Manhattan?”

Ryan shook his head and nodded. “Yeah, sorry.” He then looked down at his watch, scowling. “It looks like our meeting is done. Well, see you tomorrow, as usually Tad. If you need anything, let one of the nurses know.”

Tad nods and smiles. “Okay!” And Ryan left, quietly closing the door. He walks a couple of steps into the hallway when a stammering blonde walked besides him.

“Hello Ryan, how’re you?"

It wasn’t eleven in the morning and Ryan knew he was going to have a headache.