We Feel Like Dead Ends

Jack wandered the first floor of his wing. His brand new navy blue scrubs crinkled with the movement. The building was just as confusing as he had thought on first sight, maybe only a little less so. He couldn’t quite decide which flight of stairs to go up, or which door to open. He could only assume that the doors with numbers like his on them were inhabited rooms. Although he couldn’t really think of a purpose for all of the other, un-numbered, rooms. Obviously a couple would have to be for counselling, and maybe a few for… recreation, maybe? Jack couldn’t be sure.

He took a look at a circular clock on the hallway wall, squinting at its numbers.
2:10, He read after stumbling with reading the analog surface. It was sad how much he relied on digital clocks. That would have to change while he was there. He didn’t think there was anything digital in the hospital.
Jack wondered where the people were. He could barely hear anything (I mean, there were some voices leaking through gaps in doorways but he couldn’t exactly pin-point where they were truly coming from.) Maybe they were out in the garden? Maybe there was a, what did Derek call it, activity? But those would only be within the therapy groups, wouldn’t they? Nothing made sense to him; the stark lights and the pounding in his head made things all too hard for him to comprehend.
Alex. He needed to find Alex. Alex was in… Jack thought for a moment. He had to think hard, his headache made it difficult to remember what Ryan had said-
“Um… I’m in Wing 1, and this is Wing 2.” He continued softly. “They’re not fully residential, though. It’s sort of weird, to be honest-“
They had seen Alex in Wing 2. And Jack was stuck in this lengthy hall of Wing 1.
No Alex.
But there was Ryan.

Finally set with a purpose, Jack’s eyes darted down the hall as he rapidly tried to figure out where he could find the other boy.
Up a set of stairs and to the left, he could finally hear some voices that weren’t insanely muffled. A plain door was slightly ajar halfway down the second level of the wing, and he followed the sound.
A few minutes later, he found himself lying on a lushly carpeted floor with a bruise on his forehead.

~*~

“Hi.” A familiar looking boy with soft looking brown hair and warm, but slightly dead looking, eyes offered him a hand up. Jack accepted the help, letting himself be pulled to his feet. He took a look around the room, and he found it was in the same format as his own, except the dark red carpet and a small mini fridge nested in a corner. Three other guys were talking loudly, drinking out of beer bottles.
“M’sorry about that football.” The boy said a little quietly, a british accent making an appearance. “Well,” He rolled his eyes. “That soccer ball.” Jack just nodded, barely able to hear him over the noise. The boy closed the door and locked it with a bent bobby pin.
“You’re new here- SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He yelled at the others. Jack cringed a little, but the boy just laughed. “Anyways, you’re new here, aren’t you? Wait, don’t even try to answer that. I know you’re new. It’s obvious, and I’ve never seen you around here before.” Jack smiled.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m Max.” The boy said, and Jack remembered why he had seemed so familiar. He’d seen him in the garden.
“-and I may or may not have a bit of an alcohol problem.”
That explained why he smelled of cheap vodka. Jack couldn’t grasp how Max had smuggled his addiction into the facility, it would be like handing a self-harmer their blades. It didn’t quite make sense that the hospital would allow it, and he’d gotten the impression that patients weren’t let off of the property.
“I’m Jack.” Jack replied, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Yeah, I’ve already heard a bit about you.” Max said, his british accent filling the room in drunkenness. “You’ve already made quite the… erm… splash, would it be.” Max smiled a little. “Not a lot of people submit themselves to this sort of thing.”
“Well…” Jack muttered, already feeling quite uncomfortable.
“You do already know how this place works, right?” Jack couldn’t say he did. “Who’s your giver, mate? Do you know what group you’re in? How long’ve you been here?” Alcohol slurred his words and loosened his tongue. Jack blinked, confused at the flurry of questions.
“Um… Derek said he was responsible for me. He told me the schedule, and I got here maybe two hours ago…” He trailed off, realizing he’d lost track. Max already looked like he was trying not to laugh, but he seemed like the kind of guy who always had that little twinkle in his eye.
“So basically you’re still clueless.” Max supplied, leaning against the locked door. “That’s okay. We all were in the start.” He laughed mirthlessly.
“Uh, yeah.” Jack’s fingers scratched at the gross material of the hospital scrubs. “Hey, it’s sort of nice to meet you and all… but I’m looking for someone.” Max squinted at him.

Jack found it a little funny, looking back, how he’d phrased it. ‘Looking for someone’ could mean anything. And a lot of those meanings were extremely true. It could mean that he was looking for Alex, which he was, just not in that particular statement. It could mean he was looking for something rather than someone. And in that case, it could mean that he was searching for his mind, his meaning, his happiness. In a way, that was true as well. But what he had really meant back when he had said that one sentence to the half-way drunk, lost little british boy Max, he had been talking about Ryan.
Yet something in Max’s expression gave Jack that impression that it might be a bad idea to ask him where he could find the other boy. So Jack just frowned and shook his head, denying his own statement.
“Never mind.” He whispered.
Max brightened noticeably. “Okay then. You’ll be wanting to meet some other people, right?” Jack nodded, wondering if he’d stumbled into the wrong crowd already. The little voice in his mind seemed to be telling him that mixing with some boys who drank against the rules (and because of that were most likely much more mentally unstable than they were to start with…) was a bad idea.