loudgothbf

[loudgothbf]

"No," he sighs. "Not really. College isn't worth it. It's just a waste of time and effort and I won't get anything out of it except probably an STD or two." He shrugs, then releases himself, collapsing onto the bed, spreading his arms out to the side. Very clearly now, blood covers his hands and seems to be dripping down from under his t-shirt. "And there is no field for me. Nobody wants what ikebana. It's a dead art. Not even dying, it's dead." He giggles, balling his fists up tight and digging his nails into his palms. "At best I'd be a side show for unappreciative tourists. Nobody thinks it's art, nobody thinks it's anything aside from a novelty. I'm the best at something nobody cares about. Isn't that funny? That's funny." He laughs again. "I think it's funny."

Considering the things he'd been hearing in class, the private investigator thought it might be time to visit, after all he'd found a lull in his busy schedule--a very dull and boring lull. He knocked ob the door, rocking on his heels as he waited, humming softly as he fidgets with the pen in his pocket.--@coldcase-detective

Hibiki cracks open the door, tilting his head as he peers through the gap. He smirks, his eyes oddly dark, something off about his demeanor, something that made the whole situation a little unsettling. "Oh, hey Haru, what's up? Haven't seen you very much lately." The way he hides behind the door is strange, almost childish, like he's trying to keep him from seeing a broken family heirloom scattered on the floor behind him.

@coldcase-detective

#ch: haru #coldcase-detective #long post #self harm tw

[loudgothbf]

It was six hours, by Hibiki's guess, before someone opened a slot in the door and slid a tray through. His guess was based on the six small chimes he'd heard that he reasoned marked the hours. Another four passed before his next meal was slid through the slot.

Hibiki ate neither, of course, instead opting to stack them and their contents on the dresser. When the third meal entered the slot, Hibiki followed the same procedure.

He nearly bursts the milk carton when a voice fills the room around him.

"Patient Shiryo, your doctors request that you eat your meals."

Hibiki whirls around, half expecting there to be someone in the room with him, but unsurprisingly he is alone, the only other human figure in the room his shadow stretched across behind him.

He looks around the room, eyeing it for any signs of cameras, or speakers, anything of the sort.

Hesitantly, he tilts his head and smirks, allowing himself the pleasure of this terrifying game. "Who are my doctors? And what do they know about me? I've never spoken to them."

There's a short pause. "Patients must obey doctor's orders."

"Or what?" he giggles, swaying as he digs his fingertips into his skin, wishing he still had the nails to make it hurt.

"Patients much obey doctor's orders."

He laughs. "From the sounds of it there aren't any good reasons why I should listen to you. I don't even know who you are."

"Patients are evaluated from a distance for 48 hours and an assessment of their behaviors made before any contact with staff is permitted."

"So I'm supposed to sit in here for 48 hours and say nothing to no one and do nothing, and not look crazy?" His face twitches with contempt. "Your game is rigged."

"You will be able to meet with staff in seven hours."

"Seven--?" Seven hours? They said forty eight, and it has only been... well, by his count, ten or eleven. If he slept for eight hours, then it's eighteen. Ten hours, that's twenty. There's... a whole day missing. A whole day unaccounted for. "Wait, hold on-- What do you mean seven hours?"

There's a long, lingering, unbroken silence.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

"Hello?"

Hibiki grits his teeth and looks at the trays of food arranged neatly on his dresser. If he did something to get their attention, his assessment may simply decide that he should be restrained, or isolated longer, or both. Seven hours of nothing? And was about the missing twenty five?

He dumps the contents of the trays onto a single tray and stacks it on top of one of the others, grabbing the other and slinking back to his bed, flopping weightily onto the mattress. He sighs closing his eyes. Then, he swings the tray as hard as he can, splintering it into several dozen plastic shards.

He kneels on the floor and immediately feels his head begin to spin, but he gropes for a piece, hand wrapping around a large splintered shard. When he sits upright, the room starts to go dark. By the time he goes to raise it over his head, he collapses onto the floor.

#update #for those who missed it

[loudgothbf]

They must be gassing you!

Hibiki groggily pries his eyes open, head throbbing and and fuzzy. The room is too bright, but he stares up into the light anyway, hoping it will snap him out of it. He sits up slowly, digging his palms into his eye sockets. "Fuck..." he groans, looking around the room. The food was gone, and the mess was clean. Well great, now he can't even keep track of time.

[loudgothbf]

It was six hours, by Hibiki's guess, before someone opened a slot in the door and slid a tray through. His guess was based on the six small chimes he'd heard that he reasoned marked the hours. Another four passed before his next meal was slid through the slot.

Hibiki ate neither, of course, instead opting to stack them and their contents on the dresser. When the third meal entered the slot, Hibiki followed the same procedure.

He nearly bursts the milk carton when a voice fills the room around him.

"Patient Shiryo, your doctors request that you eat your meals."

Hibiki whirls around, half expecting there to be someone in the room with him, but unsurprisingly he is alone, the only other human figure in the room his shadow stretched across behind him.

He looks around the room, eyeing it for any signs of cameras, or speakers, anything of the sort.

Hesitantly, he tilts his head and smirks, allowing himself the pleasure of this terrifying game. "Who are my doctors? And what do they know about me? I've never spoken to them."

There's a short pause. "Patients must obey doctor's orders."

"Or what?" he giggles, swaying as he digs his fingertips into his skin, wishing he still had the nails to make it hurt.

"Patients much obey doctor's orders."

He laughs. "From the sounds of it there aren't any good reasons why I should listen to you. I don't even know who you are."

"Patients are evaluated from a distance for 48 hours and an assessment of their behaviors made before any contact with staff is permitted."

"So I'm supposed to sit in here for 48 hours and say nothing to no one and do nothing, and not look crazy?" His face twitches with contempt. "Your game is rigged."

"You will be able to meet with staff in seven hours."

"Seven--?" Seven hours? They said forty eight, and it has only been... well, by his count, ten or eleven. If he slept for eight hours, then it's eighteen. Ten hours, that's twenty. There's... a whole day missing. A whole day unaccounted for. "Wait, hold on-- What do you mean seven hours?"

There's a long, lingering, unbroken silence.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

"Hello?"

Hibiki grits his teeth and looks at the trays of food arranged neatly on his dresser. If he did something to get their attention, his assessment may simply decide that he should be restrained, or isolated longer, or both. Seven hours of nothing? And was about the missing twenty five?

He dumps the contents of the trays onto a single tray and stacks it on top of one of the others, grabbing the other and slinking back to his bed, flopping weightily onto the mattress. He sighs closing his eyes. Then, he swings the tray as hard as he can, splintering it into several dozen plastic shards.

He kneels on the floor and immediately feels his head begin to spin, but he gropes for a piece, hand wrapping around a large splintered shard. When he sits upright, the room starts to go dark. By the time he goes to raise it over his head, he collapses onto the floor.

#event: fell #update

[loudgothbf]

Can we do anything to help you out?

"In terms of getting me out of here? You could tell people I'm here or something, if they know I'm missing and not just at the hospital or whatever the police can do an investigation. Or you could just keep me entertained," he says with a giggle. "Come on, now's the perfect chance. Do your worst."

[loudgothbf]

well shit. if it makes you feel any better, you're probably not rotting somewhere. that would require kidnapping and people don't generally make specialized buildings to kill somebody, let alone that slowly

"'That would require kidnapping'? Uh, bad news, but me being secretly whisked away by some unknown party to some unknown location with no opportunity to leave is actually kidnapping. And rotting isn't the worst thing a kidnapper can make you do."

[loudgothbf]

this is gonna sound stupid as hell but is there any *simple* exit?? a lock on the door, a hole in the wall, anything? or are you just fucked

"No, nothing like that. Door doesn't even have a handle on this side. And yes, I did try pushing on it, but it's not moving, it's definitely locked. No holes, no windows, nothing. But I appreciate checking off the basics anyway. Smart."

[loudgothbf]

can you see any cameras?

"No, I don't see any, nothing obvious at least. It's probably behind the light or something, or in the corner where I can't see it, 'cause they've gotta be able to watch me somehow. They wouldn't just lock me in a room to rot." He pauses, his stomach twisting itself up in knots. "Right?"

[loudgothbf]

so what now?

"I don't know. They've gotten talk to me sometime, right? Why bring me here if I'm just supposed to sit here in complete isolation. Not to mention they've gotta give me food at some point, water. Y'know, shit like that. Even my last kidnapper gave me that."

[loudgothbf]

In spite of the psych assessment, Hibiki was only in the hospital for six days. Sure, they'd given him a laundry list of diagnoses, but he hardly seemed bothered by it.

They agreed to transfer him because of "Behavioral Irregularities," which was a very kind way to say that he was fucking impossible to work with. In groups he sat perfectly quiet until he was called on, at which point he'd smile, tilt his head, and start a fight.

Of course, it was a ritual that was only possible because of what he did outside of groups. He'd pick a target-- one person, whoever seemed the most vulnerable that day-- approach them, sit down next to them and start flirting. Then, he'd start insulting them. Then he'd flirt again. Over and over until he found the sore spot, the hot button, the thing that made them twitch, and he'd press it over and over and over again. And when they'd inevitably threaten him, or go get help, or they'd get interrupted, he'd shrug it all off as if it were the most normal thing he could be doing. As if everyone else around him was crazy. After that, when it was time for group, he would sit in silence until he could humiliate them. It's amazing how angry humiliation can make people, especially people with nowhere else to put their rage.

A boy not much younger than Hibiki was there for suicidal thoughts. Hibiki made a comment about his puppy, a little two month old golden retriever, asking how long he would have to go unfound before he thought the dog would get hungry, which had gotten him a slap in the face.

A middle school teacher was there after a nervous break caused her to disappear unwarned into the mountains for two weeks. He asked her if her sister had called her since she came back and she was halfway across the room before she remembered herself.

A middle aged man who'd been a concert pianist for thirty three of his fifty one years of life had been admitted when, after starting to go deaf, he came to the hospital believing himself to be having a heart attack. Hibiki had asked very plainly if his Jubilant Sonata in G sounded eerily similar to a commercial jingle for a local dry cleaner, and was very lucky to have escaped without a black eye or a missing tooth.

Some cried. Other's shut down. Some flustered. A few held their ground. But after two and a half days he had managed to pick out who would turn the knife on him rather than themselves.

Without fail, these stunts would earn him time in the White Room, which wasn't so bad of course, except that it was boring and small and it made him feel like he was suffocating. But part of that was fun. It was exciting. Sometimes if he'd gotten someone to swing at him he'd just dig his thumbs into the spot over and over until he got spots in his vision. Or he'd stare at the walls, keeping his eyes open for as long as he could so he could see them inch closer and closer before he blinked and they reset. Sometimes he would manage to keep them open until he passed out from hyperventilation.

What was perplexing, though, even unsettling, to the staff was just how intentional all of this was. Certainly, many people had some of similar symptoms, similar behaviors, similar problems. They got into similar fights and they caused similar arguments and they threw similar wrinkles into every pressed and starched time sheet. But they were sick, or they were angry, or they were coping, or they just didn't understand, didn't know what was happening until after it had happened. One girl had graced those very floors who was perfectly sweet and thoughtful and intelligent, witty and beautiful, until some switch flipped that told her she was in danger, and she would fly into a desperate and violent rage-- she bit a nurse and kicked her legs so frantically she broke her toe and the leg of a table while they were attempting to sedate her. There was an elderly man who spoke out loud to people who weren't there, often shouting abuse at nothing until even the most patient of people were at their wits end. Hell, there was even a man there, a man in his mid-thirties with a wife and kids and a corporate job who was cheerful and energetic, helpful in every way, until he hung up a phone call with his brother by slamming the receiver into the walls over and over until it burst like confetti into countless plastic shards.

Hibiki didn't snap. He didn't flip. He was silent, waiting, with his closely cropped nails digging ghost crescents into his skin. It was a wonder the bruises he left didn't have his own fingerprints in them. And because the diagnoses didn't seem to quite work and he wasn't quite sick, because he was simply waiting, because he was getting what he wanted, the doctors were quite content to transfer him out.

_____________________________________________________

The hospital sent word of Hibiki's release back to Hope's Peak, to his counselors there, to his doctors. An ambulance was tasked with bringing him back to his dorm. He would be escorted by staff into his therapist's office, and he would stay there until they knew exactly how to handle him. When the ambulance didn't show up, the school called the police. The police were reassured by someone, somewhere, that it was all alright, and they in turn informed the school that Hibiki was safe with family.

What a relief. The administration got to work on the paperwork for him, on the meetings, on the discussions of what to do and how to handle him. They officially put him on medical leave and "dorm arrest," which they all understood to mean he was to be spoken about as if he were in his dorm and was not permitted to leave. Which, of course, wasn't quite true, but it was all the same to them. Wherever he was, they were told, he was being restored to a proper Hope's Peak student and, at their allowance, could return as a student when he was finished. So Hibiki's dorm was occupied by his ghost, and his classes carried on without him.

Secret would sometimes slip out the door of his new room and paw at Hibiki's door, before the person watching him carried him back. It was a mystery how a stray got into the dorm, of course, but he'd hung posters around the area, and someone would call soon, right?

______________________________________________________

Hibiki woke up in a strange room, which he couldn't claim to be an unfamiliar feeling, but was particularly thrilling given the circumstances.

There was one door, one bed, one toilet, one sink, one shower, one dresser, one chair, and one overhead light that ran on a timer. There was no clock. There was no TV. There was no one else but him. There was an alarm that went off every morning, and a chime that went off every hour, except during the designated night hours.

Most excitingly, there was no one looking for him. It made him laugh.

#update #reblog #for those who missed it

[loudgothbf]

Weird... I'd expect you to be in a straitjacket since you're a self harm risk.

"Everything is padded or bolted to the floor. And my bet is they're keeping a close fucking eye on me, they just don't actually want to talk to me at all. Which is really productive, I'm sure," he adds, rolling his eyes. "It's not like anyone cared if I was hurt before, why does it only matter now that I'm choosing to do it myself?"

[loudgothbf]

You're not in a hospital, they took you somewhere else

He stalls for a moment, blinking in surprise. "What? Where did they take me? What-- it... looks like a hospital, at least kinda. Less... people. But where the fuck else would they have taken me? And why wouldn't they tell me? Can they-- even do that?"

[loudgothbf]

The part that's crazy is how crazy good you look.

He giggles, still shaking from relief at the news that Secret is alright. "Ahaha-- y-yeah, yeah I've... heard that the messier I get the hotter I am. Don't know if I agree, but if you wanna see me at my best, you can always do your worst."

[loudgothbf]

Secret is alive, Hibiki. Someone in the dorms picked him up.

His eyes widen, and for a moment he goes pale. "He's alright? He's okay? He's-- he's just in the dorms?" He hesitates, letting out a small laugh, tears welling up in his eyes. "A-aha-- Ow. Ow, ow ow ow-- It-- it fucking hurts," he mutters, clutching his chest. "Wh-why does it hurt so much?"

[loudgothbf]

"im not crazy"... Think about that again

He narrows his eyes. "I'm not. I'm not crazy. Just because they lock me up in a padded room doesn't mean I'm crazy, it just means they don't want me to hurt anyone or cause any problems. What about me is so crazy, huh?"

[loudgothbf]

At least they let you keep the stylish ass shirt! Hot damn-

He laughs. "It's the only one I have right now. And if they take it from me, I'm basically just naked. I've got underwear, but that's about it." He huffs. "None of my toys to keep me busy or anything. It's like they want me to go crazy in here."

[loudgothbf]

It's just theoretical. Bite the wall, spit it out, see how far you get before someone tries to intervene..

He rolls his eyes. "I doubt they'll do anything if they haven't already. It's not like tearing at the walls is going to get me anywhere. and it's not like I could even bite the wall if I wanted to. Go ahead, try to bite a wall. It's not the material it's made of that's the issue."