Sander and Robbe, Minute by Minute

Rain Check

The days passed in monotone rountines. They didn't forced him to a fix schedule, but they made certain he took his medications, slept at night by their schedule, ate every meals they served (it's nutrient rich stuff). They checked and took his vital every morning and evening, asked questions about his medication. There were morning excercises that he had to join when he was fit, TV time, recreation time and group therapy. He started to join the exercise and group therapy on Wednesday. He had started drawing, just moved his hand across the page. He mostly spent his time doing that, when he was not sleeping. Art was encouraged there to help with your mental health. People were allowed more tools under general supervision. There was no metal or sharp objects allowed in his room of course, but they allowed him charcoals and pastels to take back to his room. Except for necessary conversations, Sander only ever spoke to Ellen, a quiet girl who loved to read and wrote poems. They didn't talk about their mental illness, instead they talked about their art and what it meant to them.

When he woke up at Thursday morning, he checked his phone. He hadn't checked since Sunday. There was a text from Robbe on Tuesday. The muscle of his heart flexed hard once inside his chest, made him fully awared that it was still existed. He read it: Scratch that last text. I didn't understand, I was confused. But, I've been able to think and I want you.

Sander had thought of Robbe all the time. Even after everything, he still found comfort in him. When he had started drawing, it was still Robbe that flowed from his hand. His love for him never ceased, and his laughs still rang in his head, like his personal music. Despite the heartache, his face still made him smiled. Whether it was real or not for Robbe, it was real for him. Nothing ever felt so real, so right.

He knew from the beginning that Robbe might left. He had expected it and he didn't really blame him. Still he hoped that he was wrong, that Robbe would stayed. Still he thought that he could hung on, just for one more day. And now Robbe said this, that he wanted him. For how long though? Will you leave again? Will I scare you away again? How many times could he had his heart broken, until nothing left? Sander didn't reply to the text.

*

That afternoon, he walked into the visitation room. His small smile faltered and disappeared from his face when he saw Britt.

He turned to his mom and said irritatingly, "I told you, I don't want to see her."

His mom stood up and said softly, "Honey.."

Sander turned to Britt, "What did you say to Robbe?"

Britt looked taken aback by the question. She opened her mouth, closed it, and looked away.

Sander looked back to his mom, "Thank you for coming mom. But I think I better go back now."

Sander turned to walk out from the room.

His mom was saying, "Britt—"

Sander heard her said, "It's okay, it's just his illness."

Sander froze. He turned around and snapped, "Just shut up okay!"

Britt stared at him.

"I am fucking sick of you." Sander said with raw ice in his voice.

Sander turned to his mom and saw her expression. Fuck.

He took a breath and said to his mom, "I am sorry mom."

Sander looked at the complicated expression on her face and felt tired. He forced himself to squeeze her arm a bit and said, "Sorry. Rain check." And walked out from the room.