Socialist Asylum


1. Chapter 1

I knocked on the door. Once. Twice. I grabbed the handle before taking a deep breath and pushing it down. As I slowly opened the door, the weird hospital smell filled my lungs up once again. This time, it was really strong. The mid-tone blue walls gave my eyes a strange, and seemingly inappropriate warmth and relief, as my eyes were so tired and stinging, both from the crying and the bright walls outside, that the cold, darker colour seemed to calm them. As I took an actual step into the operating room, I could see him in the very corner of my sight. I don't dare look over at him. I just turn my head and look at the end or the bed that he was lying on, and make my way there, careful not to touch and trays which carried operating tools. And I can see a flat bit on the bed, and making sure not to sit on his legs, I sat really close to the edge of the bed. I was slyly touching my arm against his. I just kind of sat there for a moment not knowing what to say. If I should say something at all. I'm just looking at the tiled ground.

This is all my fault. I could've prevented it. But instead, I had to be the one who feels guilty. Because I'm not strong enough. Or fast enough. Or brave enough. And now I don't even know if he'll survive.

The worst thing I can do now is cry. And yet I can't stop myself. I'm weak. Too fucking weak. But just to know that there's a possibility that he might never wake up tomorrow seems to force the tears out on their own.

"Don't cry." I hear a deep, tired and scarily shaky voice attempt to say. I instinctively look up at him. I wish I didn't. He doesn't look like my friend. His once warm green iris turned cold and grey, and his eyes were bloodshot, with no sympathy or love in them. Beneath them, bruised looking sockets, carelessly stitched up. His hair looks familiar. The same silver colour. The same the same messy, wild hairstyle. Except something was off. It looked lifeless. His skin was so pale that it was turning from white to grey and from grey to yellow. His bones were showing clearly on his face, and on his arms. I stared at him studying him for the remainder of the silence.

He looked me straight in my eyes. "Don't cry. You don't deserve to cry. You're the one who let this happen. I'd die for you. I'd definitely kill for you. Did you really feel that my life was worth less than Kuro's?"

"No! I just—"

"You just don't care that much, do you? What hurts me is the fact that I thought you did."


"I wish I was dead." His eyes started to water now. I couldn't bare looking at him suffer. I knew he was right. He'd go through hell for me. I didn't even try to save him... I deserve the suffering, not him. I'm a failure. He's perfection. He was perfection. No he is. He's still here. He still is.

After a long and painful silence, and a couple of sniffs coming from him, I finally foolishly spoke.

"Nico..." He didn't look up. "What am I supposed to do? Please, tell me what to do now." I was nearly crying again, but I knew that I couldn't dare. "I'll kill for you, I'll die for you Nico, please, I'll do anything to repay you... Nico please, I promise..." I was ready to do it. Anything he wanted me to do. I was ready to die.

"Kill me." He choked out. "Please. Kill me. I don't want to suffer anymore." I looked up at him. "Kill me, Safia. Kill me." His voice raised with each word. "Please. Kill me. Kill me. I can't take it. I can't take it anymore." He then looked up, desperately pleading with his words, and his eyes. "Please. Please. Please, PLEASE, KILL ME SAFIA, KILL ME, DON'T LET ME SUFFER, KILL ME!" His voice starter going hysterical now, with each breath he took, the louder he shouted, beginning to cry, and begging to die. He eventually stopped talking, and just cried. He hyperventilated. He choked on his sobs. I couldn't look at him. "YOU'RE THE ONLY THING I HAVE, AND EVEN YOU DON'T WANT ME!" He said it almost inaudibly, underneath his screams. I felt my head drift off somewhere, following his voice, and my stomach sink into the ground, as I tried to bare through my own pain, which was nothing compared to his— I was a selfish bastard, and I knew that I'm the one who deserved his position— I couldn't believe that he'd ever think he had no one: why would he want me anyway? If I was him, I would've killed me as soon as I got the chance— he knows I'm weak. Maybe he just hope love would overpower it. But I did this to him. It was an omission, a preventable thing. I wish that I could relive it all, and sacrifice myself, I wish that I was a fucking decent human being. I've never felt so much pain, watching him suffer was worse than anything Kuro could've ever done— but I deserve much more pain than I was ever going to get.

After he calmed down, he looked at my direction, looking at me with intensity. Hesitantly, I spoke again.

"I want you Nico. I want you more than anything. I'd do anything—"

"You didn't." He breathed out a small whisper. "Kuro wouldn't have hurt you. You carry too much valuable information. All I am is your protection. He had to get rid of that protection. And he did."

"He won't hurt you ever again. If he dares, he'll never get any information. Ever lays a finger on you, I will kill myself, I promise, Nico."

"That won't be needed." He looked away from me, and stared at the tubes attached to his arm. For a brief second, he glanced over at me, at the same time, suddenly and violently tugged on them, causing them to detach from him. It took me a moment to register what had happened, until I saw him grip his arm and flinch in pain.



"WHAT, NO! PLEASE, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?!" Unable to contain myself, I began to hysterically cry, much to his anger. He took a pillow from underneath his head and threw it at my face. "MUFFLE YOUR DAMN SCREAMS WOMAN!"

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