So this beautifully disturbing idea came to me when I was having one of my dark moments. I don't know, but I was listening to Travelling By Ambulance by Monarchy, and I just thought about some dark and deep stuff and I just needed to get my feels. If any of you were wondering, I sometimes get like this...

Get ready to have your souls crushed. (BTW: No deaths)

Chapter 1: Life

"Hiro, look whose here to see you."

The window pane was covered in white paint, except some of the paint had chipped off. The sun was shinning, the birds were singing, and the flowers outside were just starting to bloom, as spring was slowly approaching.

"How dare they." Hiro thought. "How dare the sun shine, the birds sing, and the flowers live on. How dare they even think about existing. Existing in a world without Tadashi."

"Hiro?"

Hiro fingered the soft hospital gown that adored his small frame. It felt smaller on him than it did a few weeks ago, or however long ago he'd been in here. But now, the gown fell off of Hiro's shoulder, exposing his collarbone. The bumpy bone stuck out through the once tan skin. The bones in his wrist and the ligaments in his hands shown through his skin, so every time he moved his hands and bent his fingers they moved and poked through the skin, almost like they were putting on a show.

The bed he was sitting on squeaked, and he felt weight pull to his right. Someone had sat down on the bed. He didn't bother to look, it was always Aunt Cass. She came by once a week, checking up on him. She was the only person that visited him. He didn't really care.

"Hiro, sweetie?" Her voice was soft, too soft. Hiro didn't like it. He just kept staring out the window. "How you doin'?"

Tadashi is gone. How great could I possibly be?

"The cafe is so busy. I'm making so much money now, especially now that a lot of other cafes have closed down." Aunt Cass gave a sad laugh. Hiro didn't laugh.

"Have you been eating, Hiro? The nurses said you haven't. How come?"

"Eating?" Hiro honestly couldn't remember the last time he ate, or used the bathroom, or just moved from the part of the bed he forever sat on. The nights blurred into days. Hiro couldn't tell if he had been here for three days or three months. Nothing mattered anymore. Time had no value.

"Hiro?"

Why was he here again? Oh yeah, of course. Tadashi, his big brother, his role model, his best friend, was dead. Gone. Never to be seen again. Hiro told Tadashi not to go on the abroad trip. Tadashi was studying medicine, and started at the roots of early medicine. He, GoGo, Honey Lemon, Fred, and Wasabi all went on the trip to Europe, to spend a week or so in each country of the continent, studying the roots of each other their subjects. Tadashi said the trip was only suppose to six or seven months.

A year has already passed by, and no Tadashi.

The school said it was an accident. The plane blew out an engine, and while they were all flying from Italy to Spain, their plane went down. They don't know where it went down, but somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea, Tadashi's plane went down, claiming his life, and the lives of all of his friends.

It was too much for Hiro. He had lost everything, everything. He only lasted a month or so after hearing the news. He couldn't stand it. The house was empty, his room was too quiet, and he had nothing to go back to. The pain was too much.

So, one evening while Aunt Cass was working late, Hiro tied a rope around his neck and kicked the chair. He didn't know how long he had been hanging, but he remembered screaming, and then darkness. Hiro recalled flashing lights and people dressed in white coats, but before he knew it he was out of the hospital, only to be placed in San Fransokyo's mental hospital. They stuck him in a white room, took away his clothes and gave him a white gown, and didn't let him do anything except go to therapy and talk to others who dealt with "personal loss". But, none of it helped. Not the therapy, the medicine, the "support groups", nothing. So, Hiro spend his days staring out the window, barely sleeping and eating. He wasn't functioning anymore; the happy fourteen year old genius was now replaced with the depressed and suicidal fifteen year old boy he became. There was nothing he could do, not that he would do anything anyway. Hiro didn't mind the hospital. The only time he hated it was when he was forced to socialize, but eventually the doctors realized that it wasn't helping, so they finally left him alone to his thoughts. He still had to go to therapy, but it didn't work and everybody knew it. Hiro would probably stay in this place for the rest of his life. The boy that was waiting for his dead brother's return.

The room Hiro was stuck in was very simple: White walls, white floors, white, iron bed with white cotton sheets, and a small window with a a metal screen on it, (so Hiro couldn't escape), and a white desk with a stainless steel chair. The wall the bed leaned against was covered in tick marks that Hiro had scratched into the wall with a metal pen, something he was allowed to have, since his doctor thought writing down his feeling would help. It didn't. Hiro still kept the pen, though. Instead of writing the marks on the wall, he engraved them. He wanted people to know he was there. With pen, the nurses would just wash it off. But, now, it was a part of the wall, and anybody who stayed in the room he stayed in would know that they were in Hiro Hamada's room, even long after Hiro was gone.

"The cafe is doing really great. Everyone's support is just so amazing." Aunt Cass' words floated through his brain, only to have it sucked back out. Tadashi is dead. That was the only thing Hiro really knew.

"Sweetie?" The sweetness in her voice didn't register in Hiro's brain. All he saw was black and white, and every sound sounded like he was underwater. Hiro shut his brain down, only focusing on one thing at a time.

"Maybe you can come home soon. Just, try to get better baby."

Home. The word was bitter even in his thoughts. Hiro had no home. Home was a place of safety and warmth, a place filled with the people that matter most. The place he once called home was now cold, open, and empty.

Hiro blocked out any conversation from his head. The words Aunt Cass was speaking now floated aimlessly around the room. Hiro didn't answer, he never responded. He just sat on his bed, looking out the window into the world he used to belong to.

Tadashi formed into the small metal chair in the corner of the room. Sometimes, Hiro's mind was nice to him and let him relive the memories with his brother. Tadashi sat in the chair, his baseball cap resting on his knee and an amused smile on his face. "Knucklehead.." His voice echoed in his mind. His mint green sneakers tapped against the white floor, and his usual tan cardigan was hung around the chair. Tadashi held a book on robotics in his strong hands. He was reading it intensely, but once in a while he would look up at Hiro, smile, and call him a nickname from their childhood.

Hiro blinked, and then the lovely image of his brother disappeared.

Sometime in Hiro's daydream, he realized Aunt Cass had left. She should stop visiting. She shouldn't come back. There was no point. Hiro was not Hiro anymore.

"Mr. Hamada, it's almost time for dinner. You have to eat this time, alright? Or else I'm not going to leave this room." That annoying nurse was back. A tray was placed on his bed, right next to him. He didn't acknowledge it's presence.

"Mr. Hamada, eat. Now." His eyes slowly moved over to the tray with the disgusting food. Mash potatoes, something that looked like meatloaf, and a small piece of bread. Hiro slowly moved his hand and ripped off a piece of bread. Then, he brought it up to his mouth and stuffed it inside. He forced the piece of food down his dry throat, making no note of how it didn't help the forever growing pain in his stomach.

It had no taste, and even if it did, Hiro wouldn't have tasted anything. He had completely shut down; he no longer talked, walked, or even moved. All he did was think about Tadashi and the fact that his beloved brother was never returning home.

"A little more, Mr. Hamada?" The nurse bugged him, bending over to meet his gaze. But, Hiro had moved enough for today. He stayed frozen on the bed, watching the evening sun dipped beneath the skyscrapers of the city. The moon was once again making a reappearance. The darkness was coming, and Hiro was thankful. He could hide in the darkness. He was open when the sun was shinning.

After not responding to the nurse's request, she finally gave up and took the tray away. She held out her palm that contained a blue capsule pill. In the other hand was a dixie cup with water. Medicine time.

Hiro raised his hand and took the pill. He placed it on his tongue and then grabbed the cup. He swallowed, but hid the pill in his upper lip. He opened his mouth wide enough for the nurse to know he wasn't hiding it under his tongue. They never checked his lips.

He heard her chime 'good night', and then a click! sound signaled that his door had been locked, and there was no way out until morning.

Hiro spit the pill out of his mouth and shoved it in the pillow case. They checked the trashcans, and the bathrooms were down the hall, past his locked door. It didn't matter though; his bed sheets never changed. The hospital was too busy to do that. Then again, the most people stayed in this mental hospital was two months. Hiro had been here for five months and counting.

Hiro settled down on his bed, going back to his original position. He stared out the window, a perfect view of the city. He was on the very top floor, in the 'extensive care' level. He had bars on his windows so he couldn't jump, and he was on the top floor so he couldn't find a way out on ground floor. The only good thing was that he got the best view.

Although, it wasn't really that great at all. Hiro could see San Fransokyo Institute of Technology in the distance, the glowing green lights of the robotics lab shinning through his window. He remembered school, his classes with Tadashi, and hanging out with all of his friends. But, all of that hard been taken from him, and now he was just another nut in the nut house.

The red, flashing lights on the small clock he was given reflected off of the glass on his window: 12:01. He had survived another day in the mental hospital, another day without Tadashi.

He slowly pulled his hidden pen out from under his mattress, and turned to the pointed metal part of the pen. He pushed it into the wall and dragged it across the white, smooth surface. Hiro kept doing this, again and again, until a legible scratch mark stood, right next to the one he made yesterday.

He stuffed the pen back under his mattress and turned his gaze back to the city. It was a full moon tonight. He wished he could have looked up at it with Tadashi as he helped him update Baymax.

"Stop it. Tadashi is dead. This is your life now." He said to himself. He fixed his eyes on the Robotics Lab in the distance, never moving.

This was his life.