Campbell was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. How had he let it get this bad? At the moment, all he could think about was you. When you were at lunch, and you were sitting next to him in the cafeteria. When your arm brushed against his, and when you laughed at his jokes--- Christ, he was whipped.

He turned over on the bed and buried his face in his pillow. You guys were just friends. Yeah, right. He knew he cared about you more than he cared about anyone before, and it scared him a bit. He was an unstable lunatic! How would you ever like him back--- hell, even think about liking him back? He was getting into his own head and he knew it. He groaned, flopping back onto his bed.

Tell them. Tell them. TELL THEM.

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You were in a similar situation, sitting at your desk in your room. You'd come to the asylum, what, four months ago? And now you were in love with the most perfect boy ever. The most perfect boy that definitely didn't like you back. At least that's what you kept telling yourself. You zeroed in at the wooden desk in front of you, your eyes tracing over the grooves when you heard your door open. There was the man of the hour himself, Campbell, pacing about and blabbering about something you were too zoned out to understand at a mile a minute.

"--An' so that's why I've been stupid, really. I mean--- Well, I mean I see you practically all the time, can you even really blame me? You're just... Well, you're really funny. And stunning. I-" You cut him off before he could continue.

"Slow-- Slow down Campbell. What?" You asked, not expecting the onslaught of... whatever that was.

"Sorry, I just- I like you. A lot. More than a lot, really. And I jus'... I thought I should tell you, I suppose." He swallowed nervously. "I know you don't feel the same, I just--- You're perfect. And I wanted you to know that." He tugged at his sleeve and looked down at the ground, waiting for a response.