Andou, Daisuke

Light filtered in through the window, the various smudges from the weeks that it hadn't been cleaned casting the odd shadow upon the floor. The air smelled almost sickly sweet, a mixture of potpourri and the underlying chemical reek of bleach and ammonia. It was a smell Die hated... one that forced a lump up into his throat and forced him closer to the window in hopes that it might provide some micron of relief from it. In the week he'd been here so far, he was still utterly confused by why they'd try to make the normal chemical stench of a hospital-type environment with something as acrid as potpourri.

His gaze flicked over the faded turquoise and cream tiles, sliding up the white-washed walls and over to the single painting in his room. It was a terrible re-print of a red vase and some poppies and he wondered idly if that was supposed to be some kind of joke given the properties of the flowers... or if someone was just a fucking idiot. Rolling onto his back on the uncomfortable twin-sized bed, he took up staring at the water stain on his ceiling, his arms behind his head, one leg propped up and the other crossed over the top of it. The stupid blue hospital pants rode up on him, showing his calves and the horribly loose white top swallowed him whole, nearly enough of it to act as a blanket for the time being. From his right wrist an IV ran to the bag next to his bed, the thing pumping nutrients into him since he was just coming out of the downturn that had landed him here in the first place.

He was thinner than he should have been, his stomach sunken and his cheekbones hollower than they once were. Even the rings on his fingers tried so hard to slip off when he wasn't looking and the cough he'd developed sounded like death itself was at his door. This had all been the result of a several month low after his life took a severe backwards swing. He'd lost his job and then he'd been denied disability despite it being a work-related injury that forced him away from the construction site in the first place. The result had been a lost girlfriend, his rental house taken out from under him, and the sale of most of his beloved things. Eventually the state had allowed him aid... for that much, he was thankful for. It'd let him finally get back to his therapist, though by that point he'd been beyond the reaches of their help.

And now... well... here he was. He hadn't been forced in, but he couldn't really say it was willing either. Places like this creeped him out, but he knew well he wasn't even remotely in a good place, so he'd allowed it with severe hesitation. The meds they'd given him had calmed him to a certain extent, at least enough to pull him up from the swamp of depression he'd fallen into. And the first few days had detoxed him out of the alcohol binge he'd been on.

Rolling onto his side, he gazed across the room at the empty bed. Someone else would eventually come, he was sure. But he'd been lucky so far... one of the few rooms in the hospital where he could have been alone. But he'd heard rumor... seen the car come in with a new patient earlier in the day... now he just wondered who it might be.