Chapter Text
“Dave.”
You awaken to a pair of bright, aquamarine eyes and gentle hands coaxing you out of your slumber.
“It’s time to wake up, dear.”
You grumble, rubbing your eyes as she flicks the lights on. Unconsciously, you don your sunglasses and push yourself up out of the thin bed. Upon glancing out the small, barred window, you discover that it is still pitch black outside. “It’s still night,” you protest. “What gives?”
Ms. Peixes has a knack of bending down so that she’s at your level in a way that is almost patronizing, despite the fact that you are nearly her height now. On top of that, she speaks to you in a sweet, gentle voice that makes you feel like she’s talking to a toddler. But Ms. Peixes means well, and is certainly kinder than some of the other orderlies. “You have a new roommate coming soon! I wanted to make shore you were ready!” Shore. The fish puns begin.
“I’m ready. Can I go back to sleep?”
“Don’t be silly!” she giggles. “You need to know some things aboat him.” Aboat. It’s too fuckin’ early for this shit. You don’t even know if she does it intentionally. Perhaps she’s just as whacked out as her patients. “He’s reel quiet, so don’t expect him to answer you when you talk, okay?”
“And here I was hoping for a roommate that doesn’t shut up when I’m trying to sleep. Hey, you wanna be roomies?” She purses her lips. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
“His house was abusive, so don’t give him any fissues regarding his scars or anyfin like that.”
“I won’t give him any fissues about a violent building.”
She sighs. “Dave, you aren’t taking me seriously.”
You put your hands up. “I’m not gonna bother the guy, all right?”
Ms. Peixes smiles. “Good. But there’s one more thing. I know how diffishcult it is for you to open up, but I’d like you to try and make fronds with him.”
“Ms. Peixes--”
“Call me Feferi, love. And please. The boy has no fronds. I’m shore he could use one. And you could, too.”
You sigh. “I’ll try.” You have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.
“That’s all I can--” Feferi is interrupted by three raps on the door. “Oh! That must be him now!” She hops over to the door and throws it open. A nurse in green scrubs enters the room, followed closely by a boy about the same height as you. His purple hood is pulled tightly over his head, effectively concealing his entire face from you and everyone else. “How is he?”
“He is stable for the time being, however, I would like to give him a psychiatric evaluation after he has had some time to settle in.” The nurse enunciates every syllable, as though self-conscious of herself in a professional environment. You wonder if she’s like this outside of work too. You like Nurse Maryam, though you don’t think she’s very fond of you. She lacks the patience necessary to handle smartasses such as yourself.
Feferi nods and turns her attention to the boy. “Do you mind taking off your jacket and changing into some scrubs, sweetheart? Certain objects aren’t allowed in here.” They keep a strict watch on what objects go in and out of your room. You were barely able to persuade Peixes to let you keep your shades, but she knows they mean a lot to you, so she made one exception.
The young man nods timidly and unzips his jacket before shrugging out of it. You stifle a gasp at the gruesome sight before you. His hair is tangled and unkempt, and a jagged scar runs down from his forehead, across his nose, and to his jaw. There are stitches and dried blood from a fresher wound across his left cheek, along with dark bruises coating his face and neck. But this isn’t the worst of it. His lips are cracked and torn and have scars that are far too organized to be mistaken for an accidental injury.
“Shit.” The abrupt voice beside you causes you to jump, and you glance over at the frog that has somehow hopped up onto your shoulder. “Someone sewed the kid’s mouth shut?” You say nothing, and the amphibian seems content with your silence as he lights up a cigarette. “He’ll be better off here, I guarantee.” You nod slightly, just enough for your little friend to notice.
Feferi looks from the broken boy to you with pain in her eyes. “Dave, this is--”
“Kurloz Makara.” You hold out a hand to the now startled guest. “Consider me a bro. Like not a relative, because obviously your relatives were the epitome of douchebaggery. But the friend kind of bro, you know? I’m your friendbro now.” He takes your hand and gives it a little shake, and his smile almost looks like it’s not painful. Almost.