if these walls could talk - OLIVER

[milo]

Milo spent a good deal of time in the hallways of the asylum. He had all the time in the world after all, all the time to explore every inch of this place that he could. He had explored it too, in his diligent, careful little Milo way of exploring. He mapped every little detail down to the nicks on the wall. It was his was of categorizing the world, making sense of the chaos that went on in these walls. A lot of chaos went on in the asylum, thankfully most of it not involving the little autistic oy, but he had his moments as well.

He had no purpose today, he was simply wandering the halls and letting his footsteps echo in the silence. It seemed everyone was elsewhere today, in their rooms or in the rec hall or something. Milo did not mind. He was not a people person by any means. He preferred to be left alone in silence and solitude. He functioned better when he was alone. He did not particularly like people. They confused him greatly and he never knew quite how to react when they spoke to him. It made his head hurt. He liked it best when he was alone.

He was dressed simply today in a dark shirt and a pair of too tight jeans. He liked to feel the fabric on his skin, liked the salty flavor it brought to his tongue. The purple of his footsteps swam in his eyes until he stopped by a stretch of wall, much like all the other stretches of wall in the building. But Milo was satisfied with this section of wall.

He stood before it, quiet and passive and contemplating as if he was lost in his own little world, which he was most of the time. He was focused so his hand stayed steady by his side and he did not rock. He reach out a hand to touch the wall, his mouth getting assaulted by a slightly bitter flavor but he kept his hand there. I was smooth and nice and he tapped his fingers against it softly, the soft sound making little deep red dots appear in his eyes. He was content with this.

Then there were footsteps, loud and near but purple in his eyes so probably a male, not someone with high heels, maybe a patient or something. He turned, withdrawing his hand, looking to see who it was, careful not to make eye contact. Milo did not like eye contact.

[louise]

oliver didn't usually walk the halls. there was normall something for him to do, whether it was look after a group of patients, supervise a therapy session or clean the cafeteria, he was never short of tasks to complete. but today he found himself totally bored. the level ones had gone on a field trip, to god knows where, and oliver wasn't reliable or responsible enough to chaperone them, so he was one of the very few who stayed behind. he was caught up on all his paperwork, all his patients files had been updated, and he was running out of funny videos to watch on youtube on his laptop. so he decided to take a walk.

the hospital itself wasn't all that interesting, it was mainly the people in it that made it so lively. oliver didn't have his doctors uniform on today, because technically, he was off duty, so he didn't recieve as many dirty looks and glares as usual when he passed a few patients here and there. most of the kids hated the doctors, because they gave them medication, kept them locked up ect.. but oliver was just incredibly easy to mess with, and everyone knew that.

he wandered along the corridor, the place being extremely familiar from having spent four years locked up in here himself. it wasn't a bad familiar, though. it felt almost like home. better than home, actually. he stopped as he noticed a small, blonde haired boy standing in front of a wall, arm outstretched, fingertips brushing the surface. he didn't know if it was creepy to just watch, but he decided to anyways. he was interesting. oliver had met lots of people who liked to stare at walls before, but this boy wasn't seeing the blankness, it seemed as if the wall itself was painting a picture for him, or telling a story. he slowly walked up behind him, hoping he wouldn’t frighten the boy, or that his shoes would give him some sort of notice he was there. the behaviour the boy was displaying was nothing short of odd, but then again, they were in a mental home, and oliver had witnessed things more strange and scary than a small boy seemingly having a ‘moment’ with a wall.

”you know, I’ve always liked that wall better than the others. it has more personality, don’t you think?” he said softly, staring at the wall for a second before averting his gaze to the boy. he was half-joking, of course, but you wouldn’t be able to hear it in his tone. he noticed the boy hadn’t said anything yet, and he seemed to be uncomfortable; not meeting oliver’s gaze. but then again, oliver wasn’t great with new people either, he was usually awkward and clumsy and gave off a terrible impression. plus, he didn’t know this boy, and he didn’t know what was wrong with him, and he didn’t want to frighten him off before he’d even got a chance to talk to him.

”are you okay? why are you out here all on your own? doesn’t it get a bit lonely after a while?”

(sorry it took so long D:)

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[milo]

Each bit of everything 'spoke' to Milo in a way that it spoke to no one else. His conditions made sure of that. He sucked in little bits of sensory information that no one else noticed because his brain was set up that way. He heard and smelled and felt things other people filtered out of their brain. He couldn't help it, it was the way he was built. And each bit of this sensory information got scrambled along the paths in his brain so he ended up with something else, a sound or a feeling or a smell or sight. It was all very confusing, very overwhelming and it was how Milo lived every day of his life. Like he was on an acid trip 24/7.

He dealt with this though, he coped. Sometimes he coped badly. He sometimes hit his head against walls or shook so badly it was like he was having a seizer. Sometimes he hit people who touched him and overloaded him with sensory information. But he was getting better at focusing his thoughts. At the very least he had improved greatly since he was here.

His eyes scanned over Oliver, recognizing the young man instantly. He was a doctor here, an intern, though not someone Milo himself came into contact with on a daily basis. He had a nice voice, blue in color and Milo focused on the words, processing them instead of the color, concentrating. “It is a wall.” He said finally, firmly, after a moment of silence. His own voice was softer than Oliver’s, blue in color but much lighter. Milo liked that they were two different shade of blue. It seemed nice. “It does not have a personality.” He was being serious of course, because he was Milo and unable to be anything but serious. He did not hear the joke in Oliver’s tone, could not hear it. He always took everything said to him seriously. It confused him and baffled him that people sometimes said things they did not mean. He did not sound angry though, or cross, he just sounded blank. He sounded like he was saying yet another meaningless fact. Which he sort of was.

“I am okay,” Milo assured him, in his soft blank voice. He was now looking at Oliver, though still not making eye contact. His eyes drifted to Oliver’s shoes and then his pants and shirt and his right hand, taking in every detail and storing it away in his brain. He would not forget this moment. He rarely forgot anything at all. “I like being on my own. People confuse me. I am not lonely.” This was quite a lot for Milo to say as the boy generally remained silent. Oliver probably didn’t realize that he had gotten Milo to string along more sentences than he had in a long time, but it was the truth. Milo simply spoke very little.

[louise]

”oh”, he started, not exactly sure how to reply to the short, clipped answer. ”well, yes, of course, I suppose its rather boring. most of the stuff in this place is.” that would do. he wasn’t sure how the boy didn’t understand that it was supposed to be a joke, but he didn’t know him at all, really. he might not have had a sense of humour, or oliver just didn’t know how absolutely awful he was at making friendly conversation. he was like that sometimes, thinking he was charming and witty, when really, he was just making a complete fool out of himself. but usually the patients wasted no time in telling him how much of a fool he was, so he wasn’t exactly sure what to do in this situation. patients were usually pretty easy to figure out, most of the time. you had the nervous, shy, well behaved ones, who thought if they acted nice they’d get away with no medication. ir they’d get out of the place quicker. and usually, they were so scared by the other patients that they barely ever came out of their rooms. you had the older ones, the ones who had been here longer, who were cheeky, rebellious and untrustworthy, who stole from the doctors and played pranks on everyone. and there were the weirdos. the ones who didn’t talk, or talked to themselves, or liked to kill people, or who thought they were messengers of satan. yeah, oliver stayed clear of them.

but this boy… oliver didn’t quite know what to make of him. he looked blank and emotionless, but you could tell he was off in the distance somewhere, thinking about things. like there was something constantly whizzing around in his head. he didn’t talk much, and what he did say was about a hundred decibels lower than what people normally speak at. oliver actually had to strain to hear him. and oliver wasn’t exactly the best doctor, so he could never tell what was wrong with someone from just looking at them, so he made a mental note to check up on the boy’s files later, maybe get to know him a bit better.

”I’ve never really met anyone who liked to be on their own instead of being around other people before. I suppose it can get annoying if someone is just constantly talking and talking and you’re trying to read a good book or something and they’re just getting in the way. I hate it when people to that, don’t you? they just never know when to take a hint.” so yeah, he was pretty much describing himself, without even knowing it. he was like that, awkward and clumsy and annoying and dorky all in one, and its what made people usually want to avoid him. he shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling a little self-conscious as the boy’s eyes seemed to drift over him. he hadn’t dressed up today, just stuck on some faded jeans and a shirt and barely even pushed a comb through his hair. he would’ve preferred it if the boy would’ve looked him in the eye, but he could hardly force the kid’s head up, could he?


okay, so maybe that was a bit ridiculous and he was thinking like a fifteen year old girl, but he really couldn’t help it. he didn’t like people staring at him, scrutinising him, maybe as much as the other boy didn’t like talking to people. but he let him do it anyway, and shifted awkwardly on his feet, trying to think of something to say. ”so, uh, whats your name, kid?” he asked, silently wondering why he hadn’t said that before. ”I don’t think I’ve had you for therapy before, have I?” he tried to think back, hoping that he was right and they’d never met, instead of him just forgetting the boy’s name. it had happened before. too many times. the boys words from earlier hit him as he frowned, taking a step back from the boy. ”sorry, I didn’t even think.. am I bothering you?. I mean, if you want to be on your own, I can leave if you want me to…?”

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