Sidemen One-Shots and Smut

37. Problem- Josh

The move from up North to London wasn't easy. It was an adventure at first- saying goodbye to the parents, packing everything to move down to the snazzy new apartment that I had rented, taking one last look at the room I'd lived in since as long as I could remember, and waving away the tightly knit community in Newcastle that has seen me grow from a bright eyed three year old, all the way to the knowledgeful twenty-three year old moving to London.

I was scared. Nervous. Excited. Tingling.

As I watched the green fields ran across the window and into the past, I watched the gentle countryside transform into a concrete jungle with sky-high flats and traffic jams longer that I'd ever seen. 

I stared as I passed the practice I'd work at. All those years at school had all lead up to this- my dream. Working as a psychiatrist for children with mental issues. I'd had my fair share of problems- all the way through the first few years of senior school- before overcoming them and realising how much I wanted to help others who has struggled with what I had experienced. 

And before I knew it, I was stood outside the apartment door, suitcases and duffel bag behind me as I fiddled with the ring of keys, attempting to find which one belonged to the house, before the door clicked open, and someone from the inside pushed it ajar. 

The roommate. 

Josh Bradley- mysterious, reserved, annoying. During the day when I'd wake at 5am to get ready to set off for work, I'd see him eating leftover pizza and microwave meals from the fridge, hunched over his phone on the island. At 5 o'clock when I got home from work he'd be fast asleep in his room, dishes piled in the sink and TV still playing some Netflix show which I'd have to pause and pick up the snacks scattered over the sofa and coffee table. And at 1 o'clock, hours after I'd done to bed, I'd still be awake- pillow pressed around my head in an attempt to block out his loud laughter and shouting which reverberated around the apartment through the walls.

I had a patient in the psych ward. One I felt really tried to connect with me. Harry Lewis, the little thirteen year old- too young to have to suffer with the problems he had- but old enough to empathise and try to develop a relationship with me and help himself. 

Within a month of having living within London in the apartment shared with Josh, where I could only go to sleep at 3am once he'd finished yelling in his room, I had gone from a bright eyed and enthusiastic helper, to a heavy eyed and yawning slacker. And Harry had of course been observant enough to notice.

"How come you look so much more tired?" Harry crossed his legs on the floor and cocked his head as he sat rocking back and forth, scratching the back of his neck and looking with wide, curious eyes. 

"Is it really that obvious?" I questioned, holding back a yawn which of course Harry nodded to. "Ugh, I live with this guy-"

"Like a boyfriend?" Harry asked once more, causing me to scoff.

"As if." I rolled my eyes. "He's bloody insufferable. He's like those younger kids in ward 4 that are screaming because they can't sleep at midnight. He has dinner at five in the morning, is asleep at five in the evening, and is just yelling in his room at like, three in the morning!" 

"Maybe he's just as insane as us lot here." Harry commented nonchalantly, not breaking eye contact as he spoke with a level voice.

"Oh Harry, you aren't insane." I spoke consolingly as I stared at the poor boy, but his works interested in me.

Though I generally took what my patients said with a pinch of salt, Harry had sparked a sense of interest within me. I was good at what I did- psychiatry- so why hadn't I seen it before? Maybe Josh was an insomniac, or just had an issue which he hadn't told me about? And why had I never considered asking!