30 smutfics

011. The Ward, or, "The Sleeves on this Jacket are a bit Long, Sir."



He’s the newest kid to be locked up. His name is Emil Castagnier, and he seems friendly enough. He makes quick friends with Alice, which concerns Richter quite a bit, but it isn’t in his job description to watch after the relationships of the teens. But frankly, he thinks the boy is far too stable to interact with that manipulative inmate, and for once this actually matters to Richter. Because Emil is polite, Emil is shy, Emil is kind and sweet, and seems so totally aware of everything around him, despite his naiveté. He seems so sane.



But they say he has Dissociative Identity Disorder. Professor Sage, the boy’s therapist, says that it was probably brought on by the abuse he suffered at home. A way of coping, a way to fight back without really having to do it himself, and an escape so he could think it wasn’t happening to him. And Emil? He just stares ahead, and with a crazed grin claims he has been possessed by something. Granted a power. And in these moments his gaze is unsteady, and there’s that odd key to his voice, that somehow off-tone that reminds Richter that yes, this boy belongs in the ward.



He feels so sorry for the boy, for all he has suffered. He thinks the boy is tragic. He came to the ward with too many bruises to count, all poorly covered by bandages. His aunt and uncle have only come to visit him twice - each time Richter has forced them to leave within ten minutes of their arrival. They are the reason he is like this.



He protects the boy, watches the boy. He thinks the boy is beautiful. Slightly tanned skin, blond hair, thin. A bit too thin, at first, but when there is food, Emil has an appetite, and he gains a healthy bit of weight quickly. When his bruises heal, he looks so normal. His eyes are bright green and so, so innocent. Richter wonders how long that kind of innocence can last in a place like this. Naïve or ignorant, he isn’t always sure. But despite that, he can’t seem to keep away from the boy. The boy asks him questions, tries to learn everything, despite the other inmates telling him the evils of the staff.



Emil is there for months. Other teens are let go, or transferred to other facilities, but Emil remains. Richter gets to know him in this time, and Emil seems so grateful, always so grateful. He smiles at him, talks to him, stutters and blushes and hero-worships him. Apologizes to him.



It becomes obvious within a matter of days that the boy has developed a crush on him. Richter is amused, at the very least, and perhaps a bit flattered. But the boy is just a boy, just a teenager. A clinically insane teenager, at that, hormonal and more unbalanced than most. Somehow the boy is a bit too much of a pleasure to be around for Richter to avoid him - instead he simply tries to avoid doing anything that might give Emil misconceptions about their relationship.



The problem is that not being interested in Emil is a misconception in itself. It’s somehow nostalgic in his presence, somehow comfortable. He makes sure to lecture the boy as much as any other inmates, but the rest of the staff have noticed his favoritism despite his best efforts. Professor Sage bluntly says it’s terrible of him, but admits she can see that he is avoiding acting on it when he can, avoiding treating him unfairly. Wilder, who works the midnight shift, says he has a few favorites too, so he can’t criticize, and the rest of them skirt around and away from the subject of Seles.



Richter doesn’t scold Emil when the boy practically comes running, bouncing on his heels and excitedly greeting the man each afternoon he comes in. He lets the boy follow him as he makes rounds, because it’s keeping him out of trouble at any rate, and it’s nice to have some conversation, even if it does sometimes wander in directions he has trouble following.



Professor Sage says, weeks later, with a bit of a hesitant smile, “His condition seems to improve in your presence.” She explains that she has edged him into his other personality on purpose before, with harsh words and weak points she’s learned from his guardians. She says “The more time he spends with you, the harder that becomes,” and after a pause, sighs. “It‘s possible he sees you as a father figure, to replace his dysfunctional family. If he‘s projecting it like that, it‘s obvious that he‘ll improve.”



“Until he goes back home,” Wilder says, blue eyes wandering out the window as if trying to hide how invested he is in these things. He smirks as if amused, but the staff knows him well enough to know he’s angry - so angry at the guardians who cause this kind of thing in their children.



Richter almost feels indignant, but swallows anything he had to say on that matter, and says instead, “It’s not like he’ll make a full recovery or anything. You can still see it in his eyes that he’s not quite right.”



Brunel smiles softly, one of the few workers who loves her job, who seems to genuinely care about every child to pass through the doors. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she says, “It’s in his voice, too. But… I do think that a healthy relationship will help.”



“It’s rare that there is actually something we can do besides provide medication,” Professor Sage says, looking regretful. But she brightens, somewhat, and says “So I hope you’ll continue to fill in for Emil’s family. I apologize for my earlier skepticism on the matter.”



Wilder snorts, but withholds any further comments on the matter.



So Richter thinks that perhaps it was his misconception that Emil has a crush on him. He feels as though he understands Emil just fine on his own, but a part of him reasons that Professor Sage surely knows better. She is, after all, the boy’s therapist. He is not the boy’s unattainable love interest, he is the boy’s unattainable father figure.



Richter does his best to become the attainable father-figure. Of course, he doesn’t change his behavior much - he already taught Emil all he could while still scolding him when needed. But he tries to see the boy as a son, instead of… Instead of whatever else he had been seeing him as.



But something goes wrong. Emil stops following him around as often. When he does he’s as enthusiastic as ever, all red-cheeks and stuttering. But he disappears, and Richter hears from other guards that he’s in solitary confinement most of these times. Never for long. A few hours, at most. Emil never mentions it to Richter.



But Professor Sage does. She sighs, and says “Richter. Have you been distant from Emil lately?”



“No, not particularly,” Richter answers. He gives her an inquisitive look.



Wilder is nearby, coincidentally. He interjects, with a false smile and mock-joking tone, “That’s why it’s bad for one person to be so important to a kid.” Before either can retort, he flits away, whistling.



Professor Sage sighs again, and puts her hand to her forehead. She shakes her head dismissively. “His other personality has been flaring up recently. He’s been getting into fights, and he’s quick to snap at me in therapy sessions. He’s been taking his medication, so I didn’t understand why this would be happening… But yesterday he mentioned that you‘ve been treating him differently.”



“I haven’t,” Richter assures her. It’s the truth, he thinks. He has been perfectly nice to Emil. If there’s any distance now, it’s on the boy’s side of things - always wandering off. The thought sounds oddly bitter in his mind. Jealous. He scolds himself for those childish feelings. And over a child, at that.



The older woman just gives a tired smile. “I see,” she says, and thanks him before a nurse calls her away for something.



But apparently he was wrong, because eventually even the shyest of shy children, Emil, is actually confronting him about it. The blond tugs at his sleeve, awkwardly looking down and not meeting his eyes.



“Did I do something wrong?” He asks, and his voice shakes with uncertainty.



Richter stares for a long moment, and mimics Professor Sage’s sigh. “No, Emil.”



When he looks into the boy’s eyes, he remembers that this is the ward. That Emil is a patient. Somewhere in his mind he wonders if the pills for today have been handed out; wonders if Emil took his. The thought leaves his mind, he gets distracted. Emil’s eyes are the same as always, but somehow… Dizzying. Green, green, green, such a frantic, crazy green. Despite his eyes, Emil sounds so close to sane when he says, “I love you.”



“Er,” Richter manages. He’s been working here so long that it takes quite a bit to catch him off guard. But just those words did the trick, and his brows furrow as he tries to figure out what to do. He would like Professor Sage’s advice before saying anything back to the boy, but it’s not as though he can make Emil wait. So he goes with his instincts and says, “Okay,” leaving it at that. He knows that he can’t exactly begin a relationship with the teen, and he knows that even admitting he returns the feelings could put him in danger of being fired. Not to mention how completely morally wrong that seems.



But not acknowledging it seems even more wrong.



The boy makes an irritated noise, a low growl of frustration, closing his eyes and turning away. Richter is almost more surprised by how aggressive the boy looks storming away than he was by the confession. Almost. Within half an hour Richter hears that the boy is in solitary confinement for fighting again.



Things go back to normal, in a way. Richter stops trying to force himself to see Emil is a son, but at the same time holds himself back from being too friendly. For all of two weeks, until his resolve melts away, and he’s listening to the boy chat away as usual.



Emil follows him, talking about the new inmates and the new girl in the cell next to him, with flowers in her hair and the daddy that visits her. He doesn’t sound at all longing or jealous. Richter continues working, just nodding and making small noises to show he’s listening - by now he has learned that Emil will throw something of a tantrum if he doesn’t.



He talks back sometimes, though not as often. But it’s comfortable, and even Fujibayashi, a guard working the night-shift with Wilder, one day comments that she’s seen him talk more to Emil than anyone else here, including the rest of the staff or the other patients. She smiles and says it’s kind of cute. The man just ignores the comment and continues on as usual.



Every now and then, though… That spellbinding look, that almost-crazy smile - they come back, and Emil reminds Richter, “I love you.”



Richter always replies, “I know,” and fights off the urge to say anything more on the matter. In these times, he doubts Emil’s shy, passive personality would last very long if he showed so much as a hint of returning the feelings.



He wonders just how fucked up he himself must be to have fallen in love with a mental patient at a hospital for troubled teenagers. He can’t bring himself to blame Emil.



Richter is startled to not be greeted at the door when he comes in for his shift. He has to stop himself from looking around carefully, or worse, waiting. Instead, he simply begins his rounds, checking each of the bedrooms, though Fujibayashi has left him a note that informs him that he doesn’t need to for a few hours, she did just before leaving.



He ignores it, and wanders the halls. He knocks on Emil’s door before opening it, a favor he does not give most patients. There’s no response, but when he opens the door Emil is standing right in front of him. Emil kisses him blind, hands gripping the man’s shirt and practically pulling him into his room. In a way Richter almost wants to describe as skillful, the boy manages to kick his leg out and shut the door behind the man mid-kiss.



Emil pulls away and his eyes are red, and Richter can’t even think because holy fuck does that mean there really is someone possessing Emil, or is he just as crazy as the boy?



It’s the first time he’s really seen the ‘other’ Emil, really looked at him. He’s one of the few who rarely sees him. Most of the staff - the ones who treat these children like animals, like hostages, like prisoners - they have only shuddered in their passing mention of the ‘other’ Emil. Those who are kind, who do their jobs to help, such as Professor Sage and Brunel, even they have never said much on the subject.



But Emil’s eyes are red.



“I’m fucking tired of waiting,” Emil says, voice deeper, stronger, and entirely wrong. He kisses Richter’s lips until they’re bruised. He tugs the man’s clothes away, pulls the man to his bed, pulls the man down to him, over him, into him, and it’s so good.



Even from the bottom, Emil is in control, writhing up into Richter, holding on to him with strength that shouldn’t be in those gentle fingertips. Kissing him hard, and Richter is kissing back and not quite sure what the fuck. The boy eventually gives him control of the thrusting, and he watches cheeks flush red, watches the eyes clench shut as he draws himself out slowly before the deep, hard thrusts in. He can’t keep dragging things out, though, not with the way the boy is arching off the bed, pleading. He pounds Emil into the mattress, now, now that he’s in control, pushing down fast and hard, glancing down to see his length slide in and out of the boy’s hot, tight ass. It’s too late now, after all.



“Mm Richter, God… F-fuck, mm,” The boy moans and gasps and digs in his nails. And his voice goes higher, eyes still closed; when they open they’re green again, and Richter really thinks he should be institutionalized because he’s going to get so fucking fired for this anyway and all he can think is that it’s so god damn worth it.



He has to cover the boy’s mouth to stop him from moaning too loudly, and kisses him hard as he comes. Emil kisses back just as hard, moaning into his mouth; riding his hips down as the older man tenses and tangling his hands, fingers, into the long red hair that spills over his shoulders.