Only In A Hospital (Ash)

Ash just blinked at the guy in front of him, immediately a little terrified by the hint of anger in his voice, even if he was fairly positive he'd imagined it. The idea of confrontation was very, very real, however, and so Ash basically froze, blinking nervously as he tried to figure what to say, and exactly how to apologise without just sounding like an idiot, or some kind of freak.

"T-T-They weren't alphabetical and I was tidying up and I can go get them and-" he ran out of breath, breathing threatening to increase as he panicked about what to do about it, his head already screaming to just calm down and be cool - to just act normal, as if Ash actually knew what that meant. "I am so, so sorry," he finished quickly, hands burying themselves deep within his pockets and pulling on the inner lining, as if that would actually calm him down.

"Nono, it's okay," Ash insisted, "I'll just go get them? Or, I can help you with it, or, or something?" honestly, he didn't know what else to do to make up for the time the guy had probably lost just because of Ash's unfortunate need to tidy everything he saw, admittedly terrified that if anything was left for too long it'd get dirty or dusty, and who knew how many germs could congregate in that time? Ash dreaded to think. Still, that wasn't something he was about to tell Christopher, just like he also wasn't planning on telling him that if they were going to move rooms, Ash would have to twist the door handle three times just to make sure that they weren't accidentally kidnapped whilst they were in there, because that really did just sound insane.

"Ash, Ash Caplin," he replied brightly, offering Chris a grin, quickly deciding that the kid probably wasn't the type to shake hands, especially considering he'd just stuck his hand in his back pocket. He wasn't about to complain, however, figuring that it was probably just good that they were kind of getting along, even if their entire conversation had been the pair of them apologizing to each other. "Do you want me to go find your books? I can remember where I put them all?" he suggested, honestly just trying to break the silence now. He wasn't very good at talking to people, but his memory was almost impeccable when it came to remembering where he put things.

"That obvious, huh?" Ash asked, raising an eyebrow at Chris as he pulled his arms in close to his chest, fingers anxiously pulling on his shirt. Despite being nervous (which, truth be told, Ash was most of the time), he still managed to grin at Chris, admittedly a little entertained by the fact that he seemed to be the only person on the planet that actually replied more than Ash did, if that was even possible. "But yeah, OCD and slight germaphobia, pretty much your average OCD stereotype. What about you, if you don't mind me asking?" Ash felt slightly awkward outright asking Chris what was going on with him, but he didn't know how else to figure it out - he hadn't been here long enough to spot signs and symptoms.

"Why?" Ash asked, unable to stop his mouth from blurting the word, his usually impeccable mouth filter failing him for the first time in months. He swore he was usually more tactful than that, wasn't he? There was no chance that he'd normally be so outright and blunt about things, as that was just plain ridiculous. He still couldn't believe his own mouth, and so his cheeks burned a bright pink colour, fingers shaking slightly as they started to play with the zipper of his jacket, almost religiously pulling it up and down as he quickly continued, "shit I'm so sorry I didn't mean that - I mean - it's just -" he paused, not quite sure how to explain without just sound like a complete and utter idiot. In fact, it took him at least another minute to even work up the nerve to explain, taking a deep breath before finally forcing himself to finish, "it's just that you're kind of cute, and I know I didn't know you when you were whatever weight you were originally, but I highly doubt it would've changed anything."

"People suck - this one girl at my old school used to go out of her way to set me off. She'd, like, move my things so they weren't where they were supposed to or make sure someone sat in my chair so I could; I think she occasionally even made sure I was one of the first to leave the room, so then I couldn't turn the handle three times without someone noticing and taking the piss," Ash replied, offering Chris a sympathetic smile, honestly just glad that the kid hadn't taken offense to his earlier question. It was just pointless bullying, really, but it'd gotten to him in ways that he wasn't sure he could tell an almost complete stranger. "I mean, I know a complete stranger telling you you're cute doesn't make up for someone you actually care about belittling you, but it also doesn't mean that the dickbag clearly just didn't see how amazing you are." Honestly, Ash had no idea what he was saying, more words tumbling out of his mouth before he had the sense to shut the hell up, not that he really thought it mattered. He was fairly sure Chris thought he was weird already (if not weird, definitely eccentric), and so if he could at least help the guy feel better about himself, he didn't see why he shouldn't. Besides, there was no harm in being honest, right?

Honestly, Ash just wanted to give Chris a hug, but he was fairly sure that could be seen as inappropriate behavior, especially considering he barely even knew the guy. Still, he couldn't deny that he related to what Christ was saying, even if school was an aspect of his life that he made a conscious effort to not thinking about, given that he was prone to long bouts of anxiety which, unfortunately, were triggered really quite easily. However, Chris didn't make him feel anxious, so it couldn't be too bad, could it? "I know, I got weirdo and freak for four as well," he then paused, biting his lip as he finally stilled his hands, trying to think for a minute before he replied. "They say that it is curable but they've been trying to 'cure' me for years now, and instead all I've done is get worse. I mean, I've been in CBT therapy when I was eleven, and I still can't cope when they try and expose me to the littlest of things. They even tried to put me on antidepressants, because apparently they help, but nothing's changed." He shrugged lightly, trying to brush it off lightly rather than even admit that sometimes it really got to him - the fact he knew how normal people should think and behave, and yet for some reason couldn't do it himself. He just felt wrong, and it was a feeling he hadn't been able to shake in years.