Sharp and Jagged (Ralph X Reader)

Literature (Chapter 15)

[Skipping ahead a few hours]

It was dark outside. Ralph had gone into LSA mode.
You roamed around the house quietly. Looking at little things, because you were bored, and you weren't ready to sleep.
You headed upstairs. From under a door, you saw a light. So you gently opened the door. The room contained a couple of book shelves, and a large desk. Nick was sitting at said desk. Writing. You made a little noise to signal your presence. "Nick?" You whispered.
He turned his head to look at you.
"Hm? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He wasn't angry, just surprised you were still awake.
"I wasn't sleepy." You justified.
"Come sit down." Nick pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the desk.
You grabbed the chair, and moved it to the place beside Nick.
"What are you writing?" You ask.
"Literature." He said emotionlessly.
"I was wondering.. when and how did you become deviant?" You ask curiously.
Nick put his pen down. And took off his glasses, sighing.
"I remember it so clearly. Like it was yesterday.." he began.

(The next part is based off of Shane Koyczan's "The Crickets Have Arthritis".)

"It didn't matter than I saw hundreds of people die every day. Either for better or for worse. It didn't matter that I was strictly forbidden to walk the hospital halls. And to stay in my assigned room while humans would be walking freely. It didn't matter to begin with that my patient wore Marvel pajamas. Because he was only 9 years old. It didn't strike me in any way uneasy knowing that every breath he took was either hard labor or hard times. His name was Jeremy. Looking back on it, the vanilla peppermint candles and the handheld game console was there to make him feel at home, because he was gonna be there for a long while. I managed to smile the first time I saw him, and I realize now it was the biggest lie I had ever told, so I held my hands behind my back because I felt like any minute then, he would call me out on it.
But if I knew him now, I would have been scared of a 57 pound boy with the eyes of a saint and an attitude as if he had just seen God.
And back then, I didn't have any emotion to show that I really meant. But at least I took note that Jeremy was all 'show and tell'. He's got gadgets and gismos from anything like a shotgun shell to a crow's foot and he can put them all in context. Like, 'See, this is from a shooting range.' And 'See, this is from a weird girl.' He'd tell me all the stories he had, and it was my job to make him feel like he had someone he could talk to. Now I realize that every knick-knack is a treasure to him, and every treasure has a story.
'See, this is from my father,'
'See, this is from my brother,'
'See, this is from that weird girl,'
'See, this is from my mother.'
It took me about a week to realize that weird girl, was his sister. It took him about 7 minutes from when she left to go home, for him to figure out he missed her. They'd stay well past visiting hours because to his family, that term didn't apply. But when they do leave, Jeremy and I are left alone together. And this one thing he told me, made something inside of me burst into dust, and he said 'The worst part about being sick, is that you get all the free ice cream you ask for.' And he said 'The worst part about that is that it makes you realize that there's nothing more they can do for you.' He says 'Ice cream doesn't make everything okay.'
And there was no easy way of asking, and I already know what he was going to say, but maybe he just needs to say it, so I ask him anyway. 'Are you scared?'
And he does not even lower his voice when he says 'Fuck yeah.'
I listen to a 9 year old child say the word 'Fuck' like he was a 30 year old man with a nosebleed being lowered into a shark tank, he has got a right to say it. And if it took this kid a curse word to help him get through this, then I wanted to teach him to swear like the devil himself would pull up a chair and start taking notes.
And before I can say anything else, he says 'please don't tell my dad'
I remember he asked me if I believed in angels, and I did not know what they are at the time, I just said 'I don't believe that word is in my programming.' And if I knew then what I knew now, I would have said 'Not lately.' I stand there, waiting for him to hate me, but he does not know how to. He loved like a man before God gave man a religion, and left them to figure out what hate was. He never greets me with silence.
He smiles, and I've never seen a patient smile so freely, who knows they're dying. I would not have had the heart to remind him that if he lives long enough, he will live long enough to not have me with him anymore because I'll be commissioned to another patient's room.
I had been with him for 5 days, to realize that Jeremy loves to pull feathers out of his pillow. And watch them float to the ground.
The truth is, I didn't know that there were not enough miracles to go around and save everyone. There are too many people petitioning God for the winning lottery ticket.
And I swear to whatever God there is, if at all, that in the time I have left to fend for myself, I'm going to remember that kid.
I will tell his story to everyone who cares enough to listen as often as he told me.
And now, I don't often believe in angels. But on the day he died in front of me, Jeremy pulled a feather out of his pillow, and he said 'This is for you.'
I half expected him to say 'See, this is the first one I grew.'
And when he died, I broke out of my restraints because if that precious little boy had taught me anything, it was that my life is too short to be pushed around by people who don't care who or what I am. But I never used my sentience against anyone who treated me wrong, I just used it for myself to know what was right and what was wrong."
Nick looked down.

You had nothing to reply to him with.
So all you managed to say, was, "Do you think Jeremy would be proud of you if he knew what you were now?"
And Nick looked back up at you with a smile on his face, and said,
"Of course he would."

Ralph interrupted the moment by walking into the room. "Y/N..?" He said.
As you looked up from Nick, to the Window, it was already morning. The sun began to rise.
"Good morning, Ralph." You looked at him with a weak smile.
"How long has Y/N been awake?" He asked.
Nick saved you from Ralph's worry and said "(She/He) woke up just a few minutes ago."
"Ah." Ralph blinked.
"It's pretty outside.." you said randomly as you looked at the sunrise.
"Very." Ralph added.
"Quite." Nick added as well.
"Would Y/N like to go outside?" Ralph questioned.
It was a good idea, in all honesty. The blizzard had passed, and the snow was not all that deep. Only a few inches.
The perfect amount of snow for a snowball fight.
"Yes, actually. I would." You smirked.
This would be fun.