Yadda, yadda, crappy chapter full of mistakes.

Stay, be still. You be still.

The door shook and rattled loudly as the beating continued.

"Allen!" his Father cried out, slamming into the door once again.

Allen watched the door with some amusement as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. He sat up straight, completely stiff, his arms resting wrist up along the length of his horizontal thighs. Small trails of blood dribbled down his arms and stained his dark blue jeans maroon. The cuts weren't that bad he knew, because there was only so much you could do with the sharpened edge of a butter knife. He had secretly been grinding the edge of the knife against anything he could find since his father had taken and hidden anything even remotely sharp in the house. The knife didn't do much, just pull at his skin and tear it a little, but it was enough. Although the cuts weren't deep, there were plenty of them. Lines of jagged red covered his arms so completely that pale skin was hard to distinguish.

"Allen!" his father cried out again, "Open this door right now!"

"No," Allen said, simply. For some reason he found the whole thing funny and even laughed slightly.

The bashing continued and then the door thumped louder than before. The door began to snap and creak until finally it flung open with a shower of splintered wood. It flung open with such force that it snapped back, hit the wall and slammed back into the frame. Not two seconds later the door was pushed back open and his father came running in.

"Oh god, Allen," his father said, falling to his knees in front of him.

His hands were shaking as he reached out and lifted Allen's wrists gently. He draw them towards him, inspecting closely the mince meat his son had made out of his arms.

"Shit," he said, gently resting Allen's hands back on his thighs, "Why do you keep doing this?" he asked sounding desperate. He was running his hands through his hair and tugging at it at the ends, pulling out stray hairs, which Allen watched as they fluttered to the ground.

"Because it doesn't matter any more," Allen sighed, lifting his left wrist to inspect it closer, "You already know, and so does everyone else. I can do this as much as I want now, everyone knows. I don't have to hide anything from anyone any more."

Standing up abruptly his father slapped him hard across the face. Allen was shocked and didn't know what to do. His father had never hit him before and the feeling was completely new to him. It was strange and although pain wasn't anything new, the whole experience was unpleasant, and he didn't like it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" his father cried, and Allen found he had no answer.

He gapped up at his father and the first thought that came to his head was rejection. He felt his eyes start to fill with hot scolding tears as he continued to look up.

"I'm sorry, Allen," he father said, kneeling back down again and pressing a shaking hand to his cheek.

As Allen began to cry, his father stood again, taking the discarded knife from the floor with him. He shoved the thing is his back pocket and pulled his mobile out of his front pocket soon after. As he called for an ambulance Allen cried softly his eyes locked on his father on the phone. He was scared now, scared that his father had finally had enough and was going to leave him. He sobbed louder and slid off the bath onto his knees. Raising his blooded arms he grabbed onto the fabric of his fathers jeans and cried against his legs.

With the phone call over, he knelt on the ground and hugged his son who continued to sob against him. The tears seeming to never end, more always springing up.

They were still in the same position when there was a knock at the door. Allen had to be lifted up because he couldn't stand, so his father carried him to the door. The paramedics were at the door and made him sit Allen down on the couch. The three of them conversed between each other, speaking in words that Allen couldn't understand. He simply clung to his father and continued to sniffle as a young man, not much older than himself, wrapped his arms tightly. With wrists tightly bound he was made to stand and make his way over to the waiting ambulance.

All over again, as if his crying fit had never happened, he started to find the whole thing funny again. He chuckled as the paramedics helped him into the back of the ambulance and sat him down. His father ran off back into the house and reappeared a few minutes later with a small bag, locking the door behind him. He jogged back to the ambulance and jumped in, settling himself into a seat right across from the still laughing Allen. The whole thing was some how funny, even as tears still leaked from his eyes. He giggled when little electronic pads were attached to his upper arms, his chest and his thighs, forcing him to pull his jeans down to attach them. He didn't like the feel of them, or the way that the paramedics seemed to talk about him as if he wasn't a person, but something else. The laughter died down and instead he focused his eyes out the window, watching the familiar streets flash by.

Approaching the hospital he noticed they by passed Emergency completely and continued on a bit further down. Through the window he saw the words 'Psychiatric' in cold grey letters, screwed onto a plain brick wall. He felt his heart started to beat heavily and somewhere in the ambulance some small machine stared to beep and he didn't like it. They pulled up to a doorway and next to the door on a stark white panel read the words 'Psychiatric Emergency'. The sticky electronic pads were removed from his body and he was forced out of the ambulance and towards the door. He felt himself as a zombie as he was pulled towards the doors by the crook of his arms.

He could hear his fathers voice, but nothing went in. The gravity of the situation was finally settling in, and he didn't like the sound of 'Psychiatric Emergency'. He didn't want to be there, he just wanted to go home. Yet he remained a zombie, letting himself be pulled around, sat down, and then pulled up again. The paramedics were gone, back in the ambulance, but his father remained.

"I've packed a few things for him," he heard his father say as he held out the bag. It was the first thing coherent he had heard.

"I'm sorry but patients can't take any personal items with them into the rooms," the nurse spoke, completely emotionless. The tone used was one who had seen enough and just didn't care any more.

Suddenly all Allen wanted was that small bag that his father held in his hands. He wanted and needed that bag, most likely filled with clothing that Allen himself didn't like but he wanted it anyway. To him it was connection to his father and he knew then that he would be staying the night, without his father and without any contact to the outside world.

Lavi.

He wanted that bag and he started to cry again. When the nurse failed to comply he started to scream and tear at the bandages on his arms. He was held back by two other nurses, trying his hardest to reach out and grab the bag in his fathers grip. He wanted to grab his father, hug him close, beg him not to abandon him, not to leave him there.

"Is this really alright?" his father demanded over the shouting.

"He's obviously not any better so he'll have to stay here over night for observation," the nurse at the counter said.

"Dad!" Allen yelled desperately, "Dad!"

His father was obviously torn, he didn't know what to do.

"It's best if he stay's here over night," the nurse continued, never once looking at Allen while they spoke.

His father seemed to think for a while, running his hand through his hair, pulling our more hair. Allen struggled, trying to reach out to him but unable to with the arms locked around his elbows. He watched as his father looked up and locked eyes with him, his face in a totally defeated expression.

"They're right, Allen," he said, barely above a whisper. His words were quiet, but Allen heard everyone of them.

The fight went out of him and Allen watched his father walk away, gripping the small bag tightly as he turned and left the place. Allen remained limp and let himself be dragged away.

He remained mute and unresponsive as he was dragged to an examination room. He waited, being watched the whole time, for twenty minutes before a doctor appeared.

"Let's see what we've got here," the doctor said, completely routine.

The doctor unwrapped the bandages and then re wrapped with fresh bandages. The doctor asked if he had had a tetanus shot recently and Allen said no, even though he had in fact had one last time he was in. It didn't matter to him, and obviously the hospital staff didn't bother to check his file as they quickly injected him with another shot.

When the doctor was done he was led to a room, with a hospital bed and nothing else. The room was small and empty. No set of draws, no washroom, nothing but a bed in a small room with windows that wouldn't open. He was scared and frustrated, and he wanted a smoke. Something to help calm the nerves. His shook himself out of his zombie state and instead turned to anger. He started to yell at the door, cursing the staff and yelling random insults. He torn at the bandages at his wrist, pulling them off and throwing them at the door in a weak act of defiance. His arms dribbled a little blood, but most of it had stopped and he considered scratching at his arms so that they would reopen.

He found some sense though, because he knew if he did his stay would be longer.

Instead he tore the sheets and the pillow off the bed and huddled himself into a corner, wrapping the sheets tight around himself. He created a small cocoon for himself, jamming the pillow into the the corner of the wall behind his head. He almost started to cry again but forced himself not too. His eyes hurt and throbbed in his skull from all the crying. He was emotionally and mentally exhausted, his whole body and mind feeling heavy. Wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep he had to try and make do. If he were to fall asleep then the hours would disappear, lost in time and it would be tomorrow and he could go home.

Sleep wouldn't come though, he found no peace. The empty room and the sounds from outside the locked door bothered him. Every now and then he saw a face look through the small glass window in the door, look at him and walk away. Making sure he wasn't dead or other wise injured. Every time a face peered through the window he would try to lock eyes with them, pleading, wanting them to open the door and let him out, or at least talk to him. He felt completely alone and lost.

Sitting up through the night, he would find small moments of sleep that lasted no more than ten minutes at a time before being jolted awake. His head and his heart pounding, driving him to the point of tears again which he wouldn't indulge in. He needed to remain calm as much as he wanted to rage and cry. Remaining calm meant he would be able to leave in the morning. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle another night in the place. The sound of the door locking him in rattled around his head, echoing around and around.

Some where close to dawn, when the grey walls were starting to change to a light blue with the rising sun, he slipped off into a deeper sleep. After an hour or so he woke again, the room brighter and slightly warmer. He could smell food and there was a tray laid out on his bed, no one bothering to wake him for it. He stood up slowly as his body was stiff from sitting in such a position for so long. Everything ached as he made his way over to the tray, his sleep deprived head throbbing painfully.

His breakfast was a cup of luke warm coffee, a piece of dry toast that he knew was cold when it arrived. Next to the toast was a spoonful of scrambled eggs, some leather like pieces of bacon and some beans. On the tray next to the coffee was an apple. He picked up the apple and took two bites before dropping it back on the tray and spitting out the half chewed chunks. PIcking up the coffee he drank the whole thing down, ignoring the milk and sugar provided. He set the empty cup back down and went back to his pile of sheets, huddling himself back into the tangle and trying to sleep once again. His bleary eyes stayed focused on the door, hoping it would open.

When the door finally did open and someone peered around the corner, he couldn't even get up, being too exhausted.

"You're father has come to get you. After the doctor looks over you once more you're good to go," she said with a soothing voice.

She wasn't like the nurses from the night before who seemed so emotionless. He liked her immediately, and immediately memorised everything about her because she was a kind face in a dark place.

"W-what's your name?" Allen asked, trying to pull himself up.

She wandering into the room, waddling slightly because of the size of her hips and thighs.

"Meredith," she said with a smile, helping him to his feet.

She helped him out of the room and he clung to her desperately, afraid to let go. Walking back into the examination room from last night he refused to let her go as the doctor checked over him. It was a different doctor from last night and he tsked and clicked his tongue at Allen's arms, both crusted with dried blood and open to the world. The doctor disinfected his arms once again and bandaged them up, right to the elbows. He watched the whole thing through blurry eyes, the craving for a cigarette growing with each passing minute.

The friendly nurse helped him up and held onto his arm the whole way out. He needed it too, without her there to help him he knew he would have fallen over. They pushed through a set of doors and the first thing he saw was his father waiting for him, in the same clothes as yesterday, the same small backpack gripped tightly in his arms. Upon seeing Allen he dropped the bag and began to walk over to him. Allen pulled himself from the nurse's chubby arm and stumbled towards his father. They crashed against each other and Allen gripped his fathers shirt in tight fists to avoid stumbling over. He felt the tears spring up again but in relief. Hugging his father in a grip that was sure to be painful he let his body relax and he began to notice just how tense he was the whole time as his muscles began to ache.

The two of them stumbled out the door of the hospital, neither of them willing to let go of the other. The stopped for only a moment to pick up the discarded backpack. Once outside Allen thought to himself that air had never smelt so good before, even though it was tainted with the smell of car exhaust and the underlying stench of the hospital. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted over to him from someone and he felt the craving all over again, whining a little to himself.

His father disentangled them and opened the backpack. From it he pulled a packet of cigarettes and handed them to him. Allen was a little surprised that his father seemed to be accepting his smoking habit so easily. Allen had made a point of never smoking in front of him knowing he wouldn't like it. Yet there he was offering a packet which he took gratefully. He lit the first one with a shaky hand and smoked the whole thing in less than a minute. The second one went down slower and his hand shook less. By the forth one he felt alright, more awake and a little more steady on his feet. When lighting the fifth one, his father took the packet off of him, only to light himself one.

"You're not the only one who's stressed," his father said, puffing away.

The both of them chain smoked for awhile before Allen finally spoke.

"Can we go see, Lavi?" he asked softly, almost pleaded.

His father stiffened as he knew he would. After all it was the news that Lavi was in the hospital that had set Allen off in the first place. While out Lavi had been glassed, the shards of glass had become stuck between his eye patch and his already blind eye, carving into the soft flesh and causing heavy bleeding along with the other cuts to his face. He had to have the eye removed surgically and when Allen found out he had locked himself in the bathroom.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," his father sighed, stubbing out his third cigarette.

Allen whined and went to light what would be his tenth cigarette. Before he could his father snatched it from his hand and shoved it back in the packet.

"Fine, let's go see, Lavi," he sighed in resignation.

There was a brief smile on Allen's face that fell just as quickly. They walked their way up to the main hospital where Lavi was staying. Allen swayed occasionally from time to time from the exhaustion and sleep deprivation.

Lavi was asleep when they reached his room, padded white cotton taped over his right eye. Allen stumbled towards Lavi's bed and stared down at him. HIs eyes were glassy and deep black and purple rings circled his eyes, almost looking like a bad make up job.

Not wanting to wake him or leave him either, he climbed into the bed and curled up against him. Lavi stirred and looked around the room, he focused on Allen's father first and then to Allen curled up next to him, picking at the fabric from the blanket.

"What the fu-" he started and then saw the look on Allen's face.

He could immediately tell that Allen was exhausted and the bright white bandaging around his arms seemed to shine.

"What happened?" he grumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

Allen didn't reply and instead shuffled closer. Not knowing what to do or think, Lavi wrapped an arm around him, letting him crawl closer and rest his head on Lavi's shoulder.

"I'm going to go grab a coffee," Allen's father spoke up, "Would you two like one?"

"Yes, please," they said at the same time.

Allen laughed a little and snuggled closer to Lavi.

"Thanks," Lavi slurred.

Allen's father nodded and left the room. Allen started to play with the edge of the blanket against, pulling at it and picking at stray threads. He pulled thread after thread out, letting them flutter out and fall to the floor, all the while resting against Lavi.

Lavi was a little confused, he had gone to sleep by force of a needle. Knowing when he woke up he would truly only have one eye. When he woke up Allen was lying next to him, looking like shit with fresh bandages wrapped from wrist to elbow. Despite everything, he didn't regret defending Allen that night. Those people didn't know what Allen had been through and the thoughts that went through his head. He laughter internally because sometimes his thoughts were just as muddled and confused as Allen's. That night he was just glad to be away from Allen, now he was in a way glad that he was there, albeit looking half dead.

"What happened?" Lavi asked again, more awake.

Allen stopped fiddling with the edge of the blanket and instead curled his hands into the fabric of Lavi's hospital gown.

"I had a bad night," Allen breathed.

"Tell me about it?" Lavi asked.

He surprised himself with the question, but more so when he pulled Allen closer to himself.

Slowly and softly Allen told him about his night in the Psychiatric ward and the fear he had felt. He heard how tired he was and about the one nurse that showed him any form of kindness. He spoke about standing out the front of the hospital and chain smoking with his father, right up to the point that they appeared in front of Lavi.

"Why'd you do it this time?" Lavi asked when the story was over.

"I dunno, like usual, but… I heard about what happened to you. And, it hurt, a lot."

Guilt gnawed at Lavi at the fact that he had once again been the cause behind Allen hurting himself, even if this time it had been indirect.

"You don't have to do that for me," Lavi mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Allen mumbled as well, tilting his head up to look Lavi in the eye.

They stared at each other and when Allen began to move up Lavi knew what he was planning to do and did nothing to stop him. Allen's cracked and swollen lips met his once again and Lavi let him. He was too scared to push him away like he had done previously. Scared that Allen would hurt himself again from the rejection, and maybe this time he wouldn't be saveable. He let Allen kiss him and then surprised himself when he kissed him back. It was wrong, he knew it was, but he didn't want to hurt him further so he gave him what he wanted. Also, in a shut up and locked away part of his mind, it felt good, just a little bit, there was something about it that felt good.

Lavi blamed it on the fact that he hadn't been laid or even touched sexually for a very long time. It never even entered his thoughts that maybe he liked Allen in a certain way. There was no way that could happen.

Allen broke the kiss some time later and leant his head back on Lavi's shoulder, wrapping an arm around him.

"Thank you," he breathed, closing his eyes.

Lavi was in a small amount of shock at Allen having kissed him once again and because he had kissed him back. But he was scared, oh so scared, that if he had done anything less Allen would be pushed over the edge. It was the fear of future guilt and the thought that Allen might just end up cutting too deep one day because of him. He didn't want that, and he didn't want the guilt gnawing at his mind for years to come.

He kissed him back, and now that it was done, Lavi just felt worse.

Now Allen would be even more attached to him. He began to wonder just how far further he had emerged himself. He started to feel sick and was about to call for the nurse, telling them that he was in pain so that they could give him something that would put him to sleep. Unfortunately that was the moment when Allen's father stepped back into the room, holding a tray with three steaming cups of coffee.

He set the coffee down on a chair and stepped towards the two figures. He smiled slightly seeing that Allen was asleep and ran a hand through his short and stubbled hair affectionately.

Lavi felt even worse when he realised that Allen's father relied on him too. He felt sick. He cared but he didn't know if he cared enough. He just wanted it to all go away. He wanted to be there but at the same time he wanted nothing to do with it. He wished that he had never gone after Allen that day months again, yet glad he did at the same time.

He pulled Allen closer and accepted the coffee from his father, wondering how on earth he was going to get himself out of this mess.

…

Blah!

It's pathetic I know, whatever, at least I updated at last!

One reviewer was curious about why I hadn't done a Psych. stay previously so I hope this makes up for it. The experience was told to me by a few different people who have had to stay the night in a Psych ward after self harm. I more or less combined all their stories into one but still left a few things out. In all honestly it was too hard to write.

I'm sorry this is so disappointing.