#took the notes on the whiteboard from my psych books

[dikobuan]

Professor Crane at work, POV: Your teacher seems to only be teaching you guys about fear

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself  wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

[alphawave-writes]

Evil actions and good intentions Chapter 7: Giving in (Sigma x Harold)

Synopsis: Harold Winston is preparing himself for a life on the run after surviving an attack that nearly cost him his life, but Sigma does not want him to go. A mysterious stranger brings both a solution and a problem.

You guys can read it here or on AO3. If you like my stuff please do consider supporting me on ko-fi. 

-

Vishkar shows its true colours suddenly, and almost violently. In the aftermath of the shootings, they campaigned for their continued presence in Oasis. They have highlighted security deficiencies, traffic congestion, and infrastructural issues as reasons their presence is necessary within the city. There are other points they bring up, but those are the important ones that the news bring to attention when Vishkar and the Ministries begin their talks in a private forum.

Protests are enacted all throughout the city, the ranks largely consisting of disgruntled University students. They argue that Vishkar’s presence ruins the fundamental rights of Oasis’s citizens, that it distorts the original purpose of the Ministries’. Having an outside company stay within the city, especially one with such a shady reputation, spells trouble.

All this is meaningless to Sigma. It’s just an extra annoyance he has to deal with.

He is sitting in a corner of Moira’s lab as she writes her notes. Another psych examination, he was told. Moira must have caught wind that Sigma was a participant in the attack, that’s why she’s checking up on him so soon. It’s the only logical explanation.

He can’t help but let his lips purse. He’s got so many questions now, especially with the protest running rampant about the university. Usually he dares not ask questions because he respects Dr O’Deorain’s privacy, but this is something he simply cannot ignore.

“How are the talks with Vishkar?” Sigma asks.

“Fine,” Moira replies curtly. She’s still writing on her pad, her face completely blank.

After a few seconds of silence, Sigma frowns. He knows Moira keeps to herself most of the time, but recently she has been unusually tight-lipped. For some reason, it doesn’t sit well with him. “I assume because you are friends with Mr Korpal,” he continues. “You must be campaigning for Vishkar’s presence in Oasis.”

“It’s a natural progression of events. The city has become stagnant. A bit of outside help would do it wonders.” Her eyes look up from her pad, narrowing on his face. “This session is supposed to be about you.”

“I know.” He sees the curl of her lips and soon, the melody of the universe plays. Danger, danger, it sings. He grits his teeth. He doesn’t know why, but every time he hears Moira’s name or sees Moira’s face, the whispers always croon their awful tune. There must be a reason, but he can’t imagine why. His eyes stare at Moira’s right hand, wrinkled and purple.

It looks so much like Harold’s skin when Dr. Williams attacked him. Harold was so fragile back then, lying there on the ground, weak and helpless and so very old. And then afterwards, when Sigma kept Dr Williams up in the air, Harold’s angry shouts shake him to the core, threatening to unravel him from the inside out. He’s become used to the moniker of ‘Sigma’, but from Harold’s lips it sounds like a demon in disguise, a twisted monster that knows only death and destruction. He never wants to hear Harold call him ‘Sigma’ again.

Sigma tries to calm himself down but it’s too late. The items on Moira’s desk begin to rattle for a second before stopping. It does not go unnoticed by Moira, who gives them a quick glance before turning her attention back to Sigma. Her gazes sharpens.

“How have you and Dr. Winston been?”

“Fine.” His throat feels so dry all of a sudden.

“You do not have to be shy around me. I understand he is very important to you.” Her lips quirk up. “It’s good to have a companion.”

Sigma cannot count the nights Harold’s spent in his bed. Even when Harold was allowed back to his own room, he continued to stay with Sigma, reading his books, using the shower, sleeping side by side in the bed. Every morning without fail, he curls up next to Sigma and smiles dreamily. Every morning without fail, Sigma contemplates kissing Harold on the lips and knowing for sure if the passion he feels is reciprocated. It’s too late, he tells himself time and time again. Even if they love each other, it’s not meant to be. Harold is going to leave soon, prepared to live a life on the run. Sooner or later, Harold will go away, and they will never see each other again.

A part of Sigma wants to stay in Oasis. As expected, he has acquired the position in the Ministry of Physics, and it will not reflect kindly on him if he just up and leaves, especially so soon after acquiring the position. But then there’s the other part of him that wants to throw caution to the wind and be by Harold’s side till the end of time. For a while he thought that Harold needed him. Now he knew that the opposite is true.

A small sigh escapes his lips, his only response to Moira. Her smile softens but her gaze is knowing.

“It’s something more,” she remarks. “Perhaps you would like to tell me about your feelings for Dr. Winston then, Sigma?”

When did his name sound so wrong? When did the name that he took from his captors start sounding so foul? What are those discordant notes in her voice that clash horribly in his ears? Why have the dark whispers returned when his mind is so clear?

Sigma suddenly stands up from his chair. He feels queasy and wrong. Something is so wrong. “I…I-I think that is enough, Dr. O’Deorain. I should get back to my research.”

But Moira stands in front of him now, sizing him up. Her tone almost sounds sympathetic. “Are you alright, Sigma?”

“Don’t call me that!” He snarls. A wave of gravity ripples through the lab, bottles and beakers suspended in the air.

Moira blinks slowly, the only one unaffected. Her polite smile fades away, daggers darting from her eyes. Danger, danger, the whispers say. The items slowly float back down to Earth.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sigma grimaces. He clutches his head in his hand. “I-I need to go.”

“Stay,” Moira’s blackened hand grips onto his wrist tightly.

But for once Sigma disobeys her, pulling his hand free and exiting her cool, dark lab for the sweltering middle eastern sun. The sweat that sticks on his skin is a reminder that he is alive, and he is breathing, and that this truly is reality. He does not dare gaze over his shoulder. If he did, he might have seen Moira’s lips twist into a scowl.

-

It’s late in the afternoon when Harold comes by Sigma’s lab in the Ministry of Physics. It’s easy to tell it’s him because of the soft glide to his gait, the walk of a dancer or a royal. He stands by the entrance, his smile as warm as the inner core of a star, and just as bright. In his right hand is a bag with three shawarmas. He takes one out for himself and drops the bag right in front of Sigma’s desk.

They’re delicious, Sigma knows from previous experience, and the scent drifts ever so delicately in the air, but for some reason he’s not hungry. He’s not in the mood. “Bedankt, Harold, but I’ll eat later.”

“You don’t want to eat shawarma? Who are you and what have you done to Siebren?” Harold teases.

Sigma stares at him meaningfully. Harold’s lips dip into a frown.

“Oh,” he mumbles. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “You want to talk about it?”

There’s a part of him that wants to tell Harold his fears. It niggles in the back of his mind, telling him something isn’t right, that something is very wrong. It speaks of ceaseless violence and unending sorrow and a harness that breaks its shackles. It scares him, and the fact that he’s scared makes it all the more unnerving. But there’s no math formula to help him here. No equation that can tell him why he feels this way. All he knows is that he feels safe with Harold. He’s the one thing anchoring Sigma to the Earth, preventing him from floating up to the stars.

“I’d rather not,” he says finally. “Some other time.”

“Fair enough,” Harold sighs, taking the seat right next to Sigma. He unwraps the shawarma and takes a bite. It’s hard for Sigma not to stare. When he eats, it’s like poetry in motion. Prim and proper, without a mess or spill to be seen. Symphonies could be written to the rhythm of Harold’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, lips smacking together in satisfaction. Only Harold Winston could make eating look like a fine art.

Harold suddenly glances up, gazing back into Sigma’s eyes. As of late, nebulae sparkle behind his dark irises, glittering in prismatic colours. Sigma’s seen it before, back when he was Siebren. Back when they were very much in love.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Sigma averts his gaze back to the scattered notes across his desk. “No,” he says. “Not a speck on you.”

Harold frowns. He looks almost disappointed. “Good…” he murmurs.

“Indeed…”

Sigma goes back to his whiteboard and stares at the equations. Or at least, he tries to, but not even math can hold his attention today. He’s done absolutely no work since the psych examination with Dr. O’Deorain earlier today. His thoughts are on Talon and Oasis and Vishkar and Lucheng Interstellar and Harold. They fight for dominance over his brain. He almost misses the voices that fight for control in his mind. Almost.

“You know, I’ve prepared my stuff, Siebren. Could go any day if I wanted to,” Harold says.

Sigma can’t help but frown. “So you will leave soon then.”

His eyes glance down at his barely-eaten shawarma. He nods slowly. “Just need to figure out where to go from here.” His lips dip microscopically. “Would be great if you came along.”

“You don’t need me to protect you. You are more than capable.” You’ve proven time and time again how strong you really are, Sigma thinks but never says.

“I’m not. You saw what happened that day, I nearly died if you didn’t save me. If Tempest has a device to jam my nanobots, there must be more of them out there. And she’s still alive to tell the tale.”

“You told me not to kill her,” Sigma says pointedly.

“I know,” Harold grimaces. Quieter, he says, “I know. It’s my decision. I knew the consequences and I still chose to spare her because I’m a coward who can’t kill people. And it’s because of my cowardice that I’m even in this predicament.”

Sigma doesn’t know what to say. He can’t comfort Harold, because they both know it’s true. It could have been so easy to disguise her death as a fatal accident. It could have been so easy for Sigma to make sure she feels the same pain and suffering that Harold has felt for years. He’s killed before, and he will do it again. For Harold, he could do just about anything.

Harold stares at Sigma with cold, sad eyes. He already knows what will come out of those lips before it’s even said. “Siebren, come with me. Please.”

He expects it, but it still hurts. His heart feels like it’ll leap out of his chest. “You know I can’t,” Sigma sighs.

“Why not?”

“I’ve finally found my calling here. Under the Ministry of Physics, I can make a difference once again. Harness the harness. Learn about the mysteries of gravity.” He summons the hyperspheres in his hand. “With my abilities and their connections, I might finally unveil the universe’s true melody to all.”

Harold frowns. “But will you be happy?”

With a wave of the hand, the hyperspheres disappear. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You haven’t thought about just…retiring?” Harold asks. “You’ve already been through so much pain.”

“And joining you on a life on the run won’t put me through pain?”

Harold’s lips dip low. “I’m just thinking about your happiness, Siebren.”

“What do you know about what makes me happy?” Sigma spits.

Harold stares at Sigma for the longest time. A lifetime of love and lost flickers through his eyes before he scowls to himself, leaving only the dark emptiness of space.

Sigma forces himself to turn away. He can’t bear to look at Harold. Not now, not when the memories of their romance still linger in his mind. Not now, when he knows all too well that he will never know happiness again the day Harold Winston leaves him for good. He’s already said his final goodbye once. He doesn’t want to say it again.

“We’re different people now, Harold,” Sigma says slowly. “We’re not lovers. Haven’t been for decades.”

Harold nods microscopically. “I know,” he whispers. “We’ve changed, but…not enough. I won’t have to go on a life on the run if I had.” Harold drops his food down on the desk and approaches Sigma. “You wouldn’t let me be this close if you did.”

Sigma freezes in place. There’s a hand reaching out for his cheek, running down his neck before lying on his chest. Harold’s so close now, two smoldering embers gazing at him with the intensity of a black hole. Sigma takes in a shuddery breath, a meteor shower crashing into his chest. He can’t push Harold away, not anymore. Every instinct of his body tells him to pull him closer and never let go. It’s only by the fractured shards of his mind that he doesn’t give in. He can’t give in.

Something buzzes loudly, interrupting the moment. It’s an opening, and Sigma takes it before he may commit to one final mistake. He scrambles to his desk, running his hand on the surface wildly before he finds the culprit: his beeping phone. A message has been sent to him from the Ministries. A warning to all Ministry of Physics staff that maintenance of one of the labs will be conducted at a specific time during the weekend. It’s utterly irrelevant to him, but it’s enough of a distraction for the music to fade away on a deceptive cadence.

Harold stands there for a few seconds before turning to his half-eaten shawarma. He picks it up, frowns, then drops it into the bin by Sigma’s desk.

“It’s getting late,” Harold says finally, sounding far less confident than normal. “Might as well eat the other two shawarma on the way back.”

Sigma does not dare say a word. His quivering throat is still full of emotion. If he speaks, Harold will know all about the pain and regret that he’s kept to himself. He might even lose himself again.

They walk in silence out of Sigma’s lab. To his relief, his shawarma is still warm in its paper, preserving its taste. Apart from the sounds of Sigma’s messy chewing, it’s oddly quiet in the university courtyard despite the time of day. There’s a side of him that fears that Lucheng has already made their move, or worse, that another fatal incident has occurred without his knowledge. But as they head to the main courtyard, he sees that it’s something far worse. There are protestors outside Dynasty Hall, where the Ministries and Vishkar are currently having their talks. Vishkar’s bodyguards stand in front, photon blasters holstered on their side, stoic amongst the frenetic chants of the protestors.. The tension is thick in the air, and it stinks of violence and hatred. One small act of aggression, and there will be a fight here.

“Let’s go around,” Harold says.

But Sigma doesn’t move. He hears the whispers in his mind talking to him. Go forth, they say, observe. Slave to the voices, he walks into the crowd, the people parting to let him through.

At the front of the crowd, Satya is flanked on both sides by bodyguards. She is conversing in furtive tones to someone in an aviator jacket over a sports jumpsuit. A strange device is over her chest.

Listen, the voices insist.

Sigma’s seen her face before. But where? Why are the whispers talking to him now? What do they know?

“You have no place here,” Satya declares.

“I’m just poppin’ round, love,” the stranger smiles.

“If you are here, the reports must be true. Overwatch wants to reform itself.” Satya murmurs to herself before catching herself. Her gaze sharpens on the stranger. “Why are you here?”

“Just on the lookout. Never said anything about Overwatch.”

“Do not play games with me.”

“Overwatch?” Harold whispers beside Sigma. “I thought they’re gone.”

The crowd is murmuring in Arabic, probably about the stranger’s appearance and the potential return of Overwatch. Many are eager. Most sound concerned. They’re all staring at Satya and the stranger.

“Your presence has already disrupted harmony.” Satya waves her hand toward the crowd. “How do I expect Overwatch to bring order amongst chaos? That is why it is Vishkar’s job to bring order. Not Overwatch.”

“Perhaps Overwatch’s time is over, but the world could always use more heroes.” From her person, the stranger takes something and clasps it into Satya’s hand. It’s too small to see what it is from this distance, but it’s enough to make Satya stiffen visibly. She gazes upon it, and a myriad of conflicting emotions bubble up to the surface.

It takes Satya a while to recover her voice. She grips his fist tight, obscuring the mysterious object from sight. “You did not answer me before. Why are you here?”

The stranger’s carefree smile falls. “Ever heard of an organization called Talon?”

Satya’s eyes are as wide as saucers. The stranger nods solemnly.

“You do,” she murmurs. “Then you know why I’m here, love.”

Satya still doesn’t speak. She cannot speak anymore. She makes a gesture at her bodyguards, who push forward, barricading her from the stranger’s sight.

The stranger takes a step back, momentarily startled before springing back with a smile. She turns around and gives a two-fingered salute to the crowd. “Cheers, love. The cavalry’s here.”

Most of the crowd cheers loudly. Some mutter in disconcert. Whispers about Overwatch’s return are everywhere, clogging the once-clear air, but all Sigma can think about is her strange words. What does she want with Talon? What does Talon have to do with Overwatch?

The stranger turns around, ready to join the crowd when she suddenly stops in her track. She stares wide-eyed in their direction. It’s then that Sigma recognizes where he saw her. She was in that newspaper clipping with Winston, hugging him tightly in a friendly manner. She had a name, but the newspaper called her ‘Tracer’.

She takes a step closer, and then another, her body in a complete trance. By his side, Sigma can feel Harold quiver. Tracer’s staring at Harold, taking in every detail, comparing him to a photograph in her mind.

“You’re…Winston’s dad?” Tracer whispers, barely audible above the dim of the crowd.

Harold grips onto Sigma’s wrist tightly, pulling him away as he takes a few steps back. Sigma barely has time to give one final glance behind his back at Tracer’s confused figure before he’s led away by Harold. He can’t concentrate on the swirling emotions that must plague Harold’s mind. His thoughts are all on the hand over his wrist, impossibly warm like the sun, heating him up from the inside out.

Harold doesn’t stop until they’re back in Sigma’s room. He paces circles around the floor, staring at a blank spot on the wall. His fists are clenched by his side. His expression is pained, conflicted. Sigma moves behind Harold, ready to surround him in a hug, but he stops himself before he can commit. The tension from earlier in the lab hasn’t completely dissipated. All he needs is one little push before he succumbs once more.

“She said Winston’s dad,” Harold whispers quietly. “Not Dr. Winston. Not Harold. Winston’s dad. That’s what she called me.”

Sigma approaches slowly, carefully monitoring the distance between their bodies. “You’re…crying.”

Harold blinks rapidly before harshly swiping his fist over his eyes. He forces a smile. “S-sorry. This must look so stupid to you. I shouldn’t be crying over such a little thing.”

Sigma quells the desire to wipe Harold’s tears away himself. He wants to place a kiss on Harold’s closed eyelids and make him smile. He wants to make Harold forget that sadness is an emotion, make him forget that pain and strife run rampant in the universe. He wants to hold Harold in his arms, but he can’t. He can’t give in, no matter how much it hurts. The pain he’ll feel if he commits will be far greater, he assures himself.

Harold takes a few moments to breathe in and out. “He told that young lady that I was his dad. And she’s trying to rebuild Overwatch?”

“Sombra told me that Winston is leading the charge. Rumours say he issued a recall to all former Overwatch agents, to band together in defiance of the law.”

“So a group of vigilantes, led by the gorilla that calls me his father, is looking for recruits?” Harold chuckles, shaking his head. “This sounds too good to be true.”

Sigma frowns. He knows what Harold will say if he asks, but he can’t stop himself. “So does that mean you will join them?”

“If they’ll let me. I mean, I’m not affiliated with Overwatch at all, but I am a scientist in my own right, with my own secrets about Lucheng. If they want to resurrect Overwatch, I’ve got valuable information. If they’re a group of vigilantes, they might be able to keep me safe at the very least. There’s no better place to hide. It all depends on if Winston will accept me or not.” Harold suddenly scowls. “It’s been so long though. What if he thinks I faked my death on purpose? What if…what if he hates me?”

“Harold, you’re overthinking it,” Sigma sighs. His eyes go cloudy as he recounts their shared past. Despite his best efforts, his lips curl up into a half-smile. “I remember how much you cared for him all those years ago. You doted on him like he was your flesh and blood, like he was human. And if you tell him the truth about your disappearance, he should understand.”

A small smile peeks out from Harold’s lips. “I don’t know how to get in contact with him though. Or anyone from Overwatch.”

Sigma contemplates telling him about Sombra’s backdoor access to Winston. All he needs to do is send her a message and Harold will finally be able to talk to Winston. They will cry happy tears when they reunite. They will tell each other the story of their lives and Winston will tell Harold what to do so he’s safe. Soon after, Harold will leave Sigma’s side and they will never see each other again for the rest of their lives.

He wants to be possessive. He wants to keep Harold here. He wants to hold Harold close by his side and protect him till the end of their days. He wants Harold to stay with him so finally, finally, he might bask in the sunlight of their love once more and know happiness.

He wants Harold to be his. But more than that, he wants Harold to be happy.

Sigma lets out a shaky breath. “…Sombra told me there’s a way to contact him,” he says slowly. “She can set it all up for us, if we tell her. She can organize a video call so you can be in contact with Winston. You two will be able to talk to one another again.”

Harold’s eyes tear up once more, reflecting the world in the droplets, and suddenly Sigma is pulled into a passionate kiss. Arms wrap around his body, pulling him down so the distance between their bodies shorten. The time when their lips touch is short, but it feels so much longer.

When they separate, Sigma sees the lines of gravity connecting them together. It pulls and pulls, desperate for the distance between their bodies to close, desperate for the fatal collision that will change the course of his fate forever. The music has returned with a thunderous crescendo, but it’s still quiet compared to the breaths that leave Harold’s lungs, heavy with emotion.

Harold stares into his eyes, and Sigma sees nebulae and galaxies glittering amidst the dark backdrop of space. He can’t look away. He doesn’t want to look away.

Harold places a hand on Sigma’s cheek and rubs circles with his thumb. A crimson blush stains his cheeks, eyes flickering down to Sigma’s lips. Sigma can feel himself uncoil and unfurl, can feel gravity threaten to leave its shackles. His body is no longer his own. He’s gone beyond the event horizon, sucked in with no escape.

“Don’t,” Sigma whispers.

“You’re smart,” Harold says. “You know what I’m thinking. You know how I feel.”

“You’re smarter than me,” Sigma admits. It’s a truth he’s acknowledged a long time ago but he’s never said aloud before. To this day, he has yet to encounter a person smarter than Dr. Harold Winston. It’s his intelligence that earned Sigma’s respect. It’s also what earned Sigma’s affections.

“I’m not,” Harold insists. “I’m nowhere near as brilliant as you.”

His breathing is a sonata, his lungs and heart a concerto. He’s made of beautiful melodies and chords that piece together to create a heavenly song. Sigma’s heard this song before. It’s the dramatic violin vibrato before the crash of the cymbals, before the world shrinks down to the two of them. The moment before two heavenly bodies collide.

When Sigma takes the plunge and kisses Harold, he swears he can hear the angels sing their perfect choir song as the universe condenses into the space of this single-bedroom apartment. His body fizzles with electricity, and his heart is leaping out of his chest, and he hears the distinct rattle in the air when he knows his emotions have made him lose control of his abilities once again, but Harold is gliding in the air with him, smiling against his lips and kissing back with equal fervor.

With the last remnants of his willpower, he pulls them down so they are finally standing. They gaze upon each other for just a second before Harold gives Sigma another kiss, and another, and then another, and countless more after that, on his lips and cheeks and neck and everything in between. When he’s done, he rests his head onto Sigma’s shoulder, his fingers clinging onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Be with me,” Harold breathes, his words so quiet and fragile. “Stay with me. Please.”

Sigma cannot reply. His lungs don’t work like they used to. Even if he could, he doesn’t know what to say, what he wants. Instead, he leads Harold to the bed, traces his fingers over the tubes on Harold’s skin, and presses his lips onto Harold’s eyelids. With every second, he feels himself melt just a little bit more

As they lay in bed, caressing each other with the utmost reverence, Sigma feels the twinkling stars chime in unison within his body. They tell him that this is right, that this is where he belongs, by Harold’s side. That he can have this if he throws caution to the wind and speak the truths the universe can never say for him. He curls into Harold, taking in his melodies. Every gasp, every moan, every sweet nothing, they are all songs that Sigma’s heard before decades ago, but it still brings out the same emotions deep within his chest. Harold still sings so beautifully, he thinks, as his fingers glide over Harold’s stomach.

The choir chant his desires. The universe hums in his ears. Harold smiles as brightly as the sun. The fragments of his mind drift away into the dark void as he gives himself up completely to Harold. He gives in, whole-heartedly, eagerly, desperately.

Just for that night, the man known as Sigma is gone. In his place, Siebren de Kuiper returns, a phoenix rising from the ashes. For the brief moment he resides on Earth, his sole mission is to make up for all the years he spent without Harold Winston by his side.

[godtier-rose]

healing is hard

I’ve recently went through something so unreal to me that I’m still honestly pretty emotional and still working through it.  I kept a little measly journal while I was in a psych ward, and I have now been home for almost a week and have typed up all six days I had spent there. This is going to be such a LONG post, but if you are struggling, or just curious about what a psych ward was like from my point of view, go on and read this. 

I want others to know that they aren't alone with their suicidal thoughts. I feel shy and a little embarrassed talking about mine, and my depression, but thats what landed me in there. I didn't ask for help. 

My sister gave me “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” while I was in there, and it just felt nice to read something that someone else went through that I was then going through. Thats why I wrote every day in my little booklet while I was in there.

I was given a second chance that others do not get. People have already denied my experience. I don’t care. People who try to tell you that what happened to you wasn’t real, literally don’t matter. I didn’t try to kill myself to prove anything to anyone. I didn’t plan on surviving. But I lived. 

Here are my days, as best recalled and sloppily written as I can manage, not being the best writer: 

day 0 - last day

the walk to publix is simple. after spending an hour or so browsing the web for lethal doses of drugs, I settle on tylenol pm. 8 is dangerous. I can do that, I tell myself. I buy a bottle and a lunchable ( I have beer at home right? I think so), last meal goals? I almost run home, i’m grossly excited to die. sickening. but I was told one that I would never be remembered. I feel at peace. I won’t have to think about living after i’m gone, not about my depression, not about my feelings, money, stress, no consequences. living is so hard and dying is so easy.

no one else is home, I planned this perfectly. one handful, one beer. repeat. repeat. feel dizzy. fall around the room. knock shit over. people come home. I babble nonsense and say i’m going to bed. my note has been written. I tell no one what i’m doing, I don’t want to be stopped. I don’t want to survive this. no texts and no tweets, people will find out eventually. who cares, not my problem anymore.

drink. swallow more pills. drink. swallow. I stopped counting at 9 beers and 20 something tylenol. I hadn’t eaten all day, my lunchable is long forgotten. i’m a 5’1”, 98 pounds, this should do it. I don’t remember how much I ingest after that.

I black out, finally. i’m ready to die.

day 0 part 2 - not yet

and then???????

I wake up. mouth dry. vision so blurry I panic. I can barely stand. I think i’m going to be sick but nothing comes out. breathing hurts. everything hurts, everything is heavy, wavy,confusing.

i didn’t die. I was given another chance. panic, my body is shutting down, I text my sister, I call poison control, i’m too scared to dial 911. i’m not important or worth it.

I decide to get a fucking uber.(someone told me an ambulance ride is $1,000, fuck that) he pulls up and goes “...hospital???” and i’m standing there, swaying. Yes. please. he freaks out and seems confused, but drives fast and rushes me in. a man has me fill out paperwork and then he asks what’s wrong. I tell him I swallowed more than 20 tylenol to kill myself. I don’t remember how many I  swallowed after 20, I don’t know how much I drank after that. he calls out a stretcher and i’m rushed away. all of my things are taken from me. i’m changed into a hospital gown (butt cheeks OUT, hospital gowns are embarrassing ) they take my blood, they put an IV into me (I almost pass out when I feel the cold go inside my vein, what the fuck) I don’t know what they pump into me but it feels weird and i’m freaked out. tabs are placed all over my body, i’m hooked up to an EKG machine. charcoal tablets( I think ? something for my stomach or liver they say? I'm not a doctor I don't know ) are taken. the nurse asks “honey why would you do this? why are you sad? what is there to be sad about?” a lot. she says i’m lucky that i’m still alive, the amount of alcohol and acetaminophen I consumed and still had in my body should have killed me or shut down my liver. I wanted to say “that was the goal” but I shut up as she took my vitals.

hours pass, I ask for my phone and they say I can look at it once...only once, and make it just a few minutes. then they put it in a bag with my clothes and purse. nurses and doctors walk past my room and peek in and whisper. one finally goes “is this her? the suicide ?” a woman from another room yells back “Yeah that’s the baker act”. i’m embarrassed. nurses and doctors keep stopping by my room to look in and I keep trying to avoid their eyes. I ask to use the restroom and I have to pee with the door open in the middle of the hospital, i’m not allowed to close it (suicide means 24 hour watch).I hate this. I ask my nurse if i’m going home tonight, she says “no baby, we can’t let you go home” I start crying. I call my sister from the nurses flip phone and tell her i’m not coming home.

it’s almost midnight now, hospital food is awful and i’m watching chopped on the tv above my bed. another nurse told me god saved my life. another tells me i’m “too young to be sad”.

“the baker act is being transferred” that’s what i’m called, i’m the suicide. the baker act. another stretcher comes, i’m loaded on. another hospital. I get to ride in an ambulance for the first time, the paramedics think it’s funny when I tell them that I took an uber to the hospital. “I bet it was cheaper, that’s for sure.”

they take me 10 minutes away, to a place that has a mental health unit. I have to sit downstairs in a room to wait for a bed. I go to the bathroom and a nurse yells at me and he slams the door open, saying “you can’t close this, you have to go with the door open!” i’m given a turkey sandwich and a little fruit cup, sitting in a reclining chair, it’s 2 am when they say I can go upstairs now. a screaming man was brought in when I was leaving, the nurses yelling at him saying he’s here because he was found naked in the bushes waving a samurai sword. I laugh and a nurse asks me what’s so funny.

I meet someone up on the 6th floor, the psych ward floor. She takes me to a room and I have to strip down. she marks a body chart with my tattoos, my burns, my cuts. i’m asked for the millionth time why i’m there. she gives me a new gown and brings me to my room. it’s a plain as it gets, and my roommate is asleep. it’s 2:30am.

I lay down in the most basic bed with this pillow that’s literally filled with something paper like. I sleep like shit.

day 1 in the psych ward

i am woken up again at 6am for vitals. I fall back to sleep until my roommate and I wake up to an announcement at 8:30. we stay in bed and talk a little. she’s here for swallowing 50 xanax, I say “shit, you beat me, I blacked out at 20 something tylenol” she’s impressed. she’s a 46 year old mother. kara. a doctor comes to see us and talks about the severity of what we both have done, tells us what meds they will be putting us on. we leave our room and look around, a nurse tells us we missed breakfast, but she gets us some cereal and juice. this place is full of interesting people, I watch in awe. a woman (marlene)keeps saying she’s frank sinatras daughter and that someone keeps burning her with cigarettes (no smoking allowed and she just yelled that it was happening just then, when no one was around her) another woman (isabelle) claims she works for the phone company, and takes one of the hospitals phones and takes it apart (breaks it) and says she got the bug out. a man (joe) won’t stop yelling for nurses. another woman (mary) keeps petting everyone’s hair. me and kara stick close to each other that morning. I speak with a case manager, who tells me i’ll be here a few days because of how severe my case is. whatever. I call my sister on the cord phone they have on the wall, ask her to bring me some books and clothes. I feel embarrassed to be walking around in the hospital gown. I tell her “it says we have arts and crafts today at 1:45”, she can’t stop laughing, “are you fucking serious???” it literally says Arts and Crafts on the daily events whiteboard.

I ask a nurse if I can shower, she gives me a towel and unlocks the shower door, where an open shower with no cover or curtain is, but I can lock the door.a broken soap dispenser holds a shampoo/bodywash combo (LAME), and there’s a few bandaids on the shower floor. I have to stand on my tiptoes to get close to the water. this sucks. after my shower it’s “process group” time, where kara and i get to meet some of the others, talk about our feelings, the works. kristie, sherri, carl, natalie, andrew, and myself and kara are the most sane and coherent. we all sit near each other at lunch. kristie is here for cutting herself, sherri for OD’ing, carl for suicidal thoughts, andrew for trying to slit his throat on drugs. I️ get mystery meatloaf for lunch. kara asks the nurse where to get a toothbrush after lunch, the nurse goes “maybe if you left your room and ask, you’d get one earlier.” I get defensive of my roomie and say “well ma’am i’m sorry we didn’t exactly pack for this, the plan wasn’t to make it here alive” kara, kristie, carrie, and andrew lose it, they can’t stop laughing. the nurse walks away.

someone tells me that after lunch a woman comes around with a menu, and you can order your lunch for the next day. I order chicken parm and mac n cheese and breakfast for others and cereal for myself. I order dinner for kara because she’s napping and I don’t want her to be cursed with the mystery meatloaf again.

after lunch is arts and crafts, where I make my sister a bracelet and then help a man from the other wing make a bracelet for his daughter.

after arts and crafts is a bit of free time, me and kara sit together and talk with a few of the others. the days feel so long here. my sister brings me clothes, makeup, toiletries and books, but i’m not allowed to see her. she gave me “Its kind of a funny story” and said that I️ had to read it because the kid gets baker acted. she brought me the extra clothes and stuff I asked for, I wander around and give clothes to some of my friends who aren’t able to have someone bring them any. I get conditioner, face wash, shampoo, body wash, and lotion, and become the toiletry mom who hands out and shares it with everyone who wants to use it in the shower.

eventually it’s dinner, and since we only got to order for the next day, kara and I are stuck with meatloaf again. I call elspeth after dinner and tell her about my day, tell her not to tell anybody i’m here, not even my parents, tell her to tell them my phone is dead and i’m at a friends, I don’t want anyone to know yet. i’ll y’all when i’m out and ready. she says she got mad and told some people what I did, but they didn’t believe her. that’s fine, I tell her they can never contact me ever again because they don’t care. I have nothing to prove. I lived and am now locked in a god damn mental ward. I have more important things in my life besides caring about people acting like they know what I did and why I did it. my goal was to be dead and not have to deal with this, but I got another shot so let me fucking be. i tell her there is visitation tomorrow from 6pm-8pm. I tell her that one of my friends was going to hang out with me, and that I can’t make it. also that I was messaging another friend and that she can tell him what happened, he will be understanding and caring. (shoutout to my sister for holding everything together while I could only contact the outside world through her via a phone with a cord)

after that I lie in bed and read my toradora manga elspeth also brought me. vitals are checked. a doctor ask me how i’m feeling, etc.

eventually we get snack time? which is juice, popcorn, bananas, and bread with PB&J.

finally it’s bedtime, my first day is complete. this all feels surreal. I write everything in the back of a booklet I was given earlier. I sleep like shit again.

day two, the days are still so long

6 am, vitals again. back to sleep. an announcement at 8 am gets me and Kara awake, it says there’s “grooming” taking place, where you’re allowed to shave your facial hair or armpits in front of the nurses, in a sink, and also they have mouth wash. great.

8:30, breakfast. the board says that there’s pet therapy today, and visitation tonight!!!!

process group again. I shower. lunch. my food isn’t as awful as the meatloaf but it’s still hospital food. carl tells me I have to go to the meds window to ask for my meds, but warns me they will have me sign a paper. they don’t tell you, but the paper is a voluntary admission form that once you sign, your baker act is no longer valid and you can only leave if a doctor says you can. I say that’s BS because I wanna go home after my 72 hours. he says if I don’t sign, they just re-baker act you. no way. I go to the window and ask for my meds, and the nurse gives me a paper and says “sign this to get your medication”. it’s the voluntary admission form. I ask her if I sign this, what happens. she said it’s the “first step towards getting better”. I said “if I sign this my baker act is removed and i’m becoming a voluntary patient right?” she says “well....yes, but it’s the first step towards getting better.” I ask her what happens if I don’t sign it. she goes “....well then you will probably be here a longer time :(“ I end up signing the papers, i’m fucked either way. I didn’t even want to take prozac or be i’m this place.

pet therapy gives us a golden retriever named JR who is so cute and licks my face. I love him. it brightened a lot of people’s days. after dinner we get visitation, everyone eats fast and me and kara stay behind to help the nurses clean up.

i’m so excited for visitation. i️ told my sister she can bring someone with her. kara’s family and daughter are coming too, I get to meet them. elspeth comes and brings an old friend, I hug her and him for so long, it feels so good. you find out who is really there for you. I tell them all about my crazy day and how there was a bra left on the floor in the public room and how people keep acting out. I give elspeth the bracelet I made her in arts and crafts, I meet kara’s family. it made my day. after visitation is snacks, a young girl comes in and I feel instantly protective of her. I ask her if she has clothes and she says no, so after I sneak extra snacks for her, I run to my room and gather up a shirt and pants, lotion, and some of the graham crackers packs i snuck from snack time, I run back and give them all to her, tell her that i’m in room 604 and she can ask me for anything. I tell her how this place runs, as if i’m a pro even though i’ve been here for 2 days. she’s so thankful, her name is Destinee.

eventually, it’s bedtime again. I journal and fall into another shitty sleep.

day threeeeee...get me out of here

once again, 6 am vitals. back to sleep until 8 am announcements. I decide to get my butt up and shave my armpits in a sink during grooming time. we aren’t allowed to shave our legs, but whatever i’ll take what I can get.

my day follows a constant schedule. always breakfast at 8:30, process group, I shower, the board tells me today is more arts and crafts and bingo tonight. kara, kristie and I sit in our room and talk about cam girls and people who buy feet pictures. kara is fascinated that kristie and I know so much about the dirty web.

I start reading “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” and it’s so similar to my situation. Craig is baker acted and he’s taken to the 6th floor (i’m on the 6th floor, are all psych wards there??). he talks about the food, the people, even the shape of the ward (shaped like an H), which is what my psych ward is shaped like ! it’s a good book, I feel like the author right now, as I type up my experiences. being here is honestly so crazy I just had to write about it.

there’s another group and this time it’s a mix of all the wings, (I am in the East Wing, the west wing is the violent or dangerous patients.) one guy from the west wing tries to start a fight with Cheryl, the rec therapist. he leaves angry.

in arts and crafts I become notorious for being able to find any letter bead asked of me, maria from the west wing says any letter and I dig through the bead box and find it for her. I help another guy make a ring. I make a bracelet for someone who cares about me.

lunch is late because the guy who got mad during group, started a fight in the dining hall and all of us from the east wing watched from the window. he threw his tray and food was everywhere. we see him on the floor and find out he was probably sedated.

we eat, continue our day. I read my book and hang in my bed. kara’s family brought magazines for us, so we share those and read about the outside world. I miss my phone and the internet. I talk to a doctor who says I won’t be going home this weekend. (it’s friday today, so she says maybe monday because of how severe my case is.) kara gets the same news. the doctors all say “well imagine how bad it would look if we release you now and you kill yourself, you were in our care, that would be on our hands.” what a lame excuse.

later is dinner, our table always consists of the same group of people, a nurse says “why do you all sit together always???” we love it. we laugh and all share what we have witch each other.  

bingo is next, where carl says you can win prizes, and he’s gonna try to win some deodorant because the nurses keep refusing to give anyone any. that’s so sad. I win a game and give carl the deodorant, he says I didn’t have to do that.

snacks. then bed.

day four!!!!!

same basic schedule, except today it says game day for our activity.  

we get to the dining hall and it’s decked out with a wii, basket ball hoops, a ping pong table, and a bunch of other board games. andrew and I play wii bowling, and then I play jenga with kara.

kristie and carl have gone home, I miss them already but I hope they are doing okay. a new guy named paul joins us all, we tell him what’s up. me, destinee, sherri, and paul all sit on the hallway floor and talk about crazy shit. a new woman named virgina walks around and spills her tea everywhere, talking about being american and carrying a stack of 8 books that she occasionally reads out loud to nobody in particular.

we have a different night nurse, his name is richard and he’s literally the best. he tells us at snack time that he’s opened the “patio” (a gated in balcony connected to the dining hall that none of the nurses ever feel like opening because they don’t want to watch us) I literally run and andrew makes fun of the faces i’m making because i’m so excited to breathe outside air.

after that, richard pulls out a box full of movies and say we can all have a movie night in the community tv living room. everyone decides on jeepers creepers 2. it was a great night.

I continue to sleep like shit, and I have a dream about my ex.

day 5! when can I leave???

it’s sunday and kara has to miss her mothers surprise party. we want to go home! there aren’t even any case managers here today, so we can’t even talk to anyone. we MIGHT go home tomorrow, we are told. not for sure. sherri goes home tomorrow!!! I give her one of my sweaters to keep and we exchange numbers for when we are on the outside.

football is on the community tv and I call my friend and say “watch this, your team is gonna win and this other team is gonna lose.” his team wins and I can’t stop laughing, I was just kidding but it somehow worked.

my day still follows the basic schedule.

day 6: FALSE HOPE

i’m not going home today! lame!!!!! a doctor tells me there’s no discharge order for me today, but there’s one for tomorrow! i’ll take it.

the board says today is music and drum therapy. also there will be games tonight in the dining hall.

the loud guy who yells constantly, joe, is leaving today. we all secretly cheer when he leaves, because he just yelled at people to make his bed and to come to his room. now i can read without having to here someone yelling “NURSEEEEEEE” down the hall every 3 minutes.

drum therapy is fun, we all get to sit and bang in drums to describe how we are feeling.

music therapy is just “pick one song on youtube and toni the rec therapist will play it on the TV” I pick human by the killers.

kara and I play jenga for games night, it’s our thing now. richard is here again and we are so happy, that means patio and movie night. my last night is spent surrounded by my support group as we laugh on the patio, sharing a blanket with kara as we watch Disturbia, and drawing pictures for destinee until it’s time for bed. I make sure I have everyone’s numbers written in the back of my booklet. I ask the meds window for something to help me sleep, i’m too anxious and know I won’t fall asleep tonight. they give me ativan ? and I go to bed. I finally don’t sleep like shit.

Day 7: Freedom

IM GOINNNG HOMEEEE!!!!! 

I wake up excited and make sure I get together my belongings. I’m visited by doctors and case managers, nurses give me plastic bags to put stuff in. I make sure I give nurse millie a big hug. kara isnt leaving until tomorrow, so i give her a big hug too. the community board says tonight is karaoke night, and I feel bad that I have to miss it, but I leave before lunch. the hospital drives me home in a van, and i’m so excited when I step outside. I start crying and the driver brings me home. I cry again. I take the worlds longest shower and I go get some chick fil a. I sit outside for hours. I hold baby kitty and start crying. I check all my social media. I reply to texts. I sit my mom down and tell her what happened. I do not tell my dad or my brother. my stepdad is in germany and I will tell him when he’s home. ———- afterthoughts:

    the mental health system is fucked. not one doctor or therapist or psychiatrist really helped anyone in that psych ward. if you asked for underwear or deodorant the nurses wouldn’t want to give you any, they said “well you have one pair of underwear already.” some nurses and doctors were kind, but not one of them had any type of sensitivity or empathy. my first three days there, half the nurses assumed I was one of the drug addicts and kept trying to give me nicotine patches and tried having me go to AA meetings. in group “therapy” we were asked how we felt and that was it. the doctors asked us from 1-10 our depression and anxiety, and then gave us meds. we were told if we tried to leave after our 72 hour baker act, that we would just be re-baker acted and be there longer. asking questions was like a game of “which nurse do we ask so that they don’t say no or ignore us” I was not given any type of one on one sessions with a therapist. I was just repeatedly asked “why would you do this? what do you have to be sad about?” they made an appointment for 7 days after I left, never contacted my sister, and let me leave. I swore every night when I prayed (I feel cheesy but I also feel like I owe god my life at this point) that when i’m out, I will put together a box of clothes and books and stuff for arts and crafts and game nights. they have six books and hardly any crafts, and almost no clothes for people who come in with nothing and have to wear the hospital robes. people deserve better. everyone in there survived something that others don’t get to, people need help. this felt like the hospital just wanted our money for keeping us there longer. it’s not fair. I felt like a prisoner. everyone did. a man raped his roommate in our wing and all they did was move him to the west wing. kara and I had to ask to have our room locked from the outside so that we didn’t have to keep going to bed scared.

it felt surreal, but now i’m home and want to help in any way I can. i’m blessed to have met my roommate, we just went to church together and had a fake thanksgiving with my family and her daughter. we call each other every day. i’ve only been home 6 days, but every day I remind myself that i’m alive for a reason. I take my meds. I text my friends. I do my makeup and eat every day. i’m finally 102 pounds and not 94 pounds. I have grand openings for work lined up. i’m going to puerto rico with my church for a missions trip in a few months, to help with hurricane relief. i’m going to help as many people as I can.

I hope that writing all of this just kinda helps. I don’t want people to think they are alone. I did not plan to live, I planned to die. I didn’t die. there are people who literally said i’m faking it. but those people don’t matter. I didn’t get drunk and swallow over 20 tylenol pm and survive, and spend 6 days in the hell that was that psych ward, to have anyone tell me my experience didn’t happen or was for attention. I don’t care if you are trying to die or if you commit and survive, you’re important and deserve care, attention, and help. I deserved every hug and kiss and call and text from people when I was out of there. I have such an amazing support system. I have friends who aren’t judging me, who say “i’m so happy you’re alive emily, let’s hang out. i’m so glad you failed, I love having you in my life.”

I have only told hardly a few people, this is my public account of as much as I can remember. I don’t want any pity. I lived.

 I’m going to keep living. I’m going to work hard, I’m going to buy nice clothes and makeup, i’m going to travel and open new stores for my job, I’m going to pour myself out and connect and train my teams, I’m going to stay up late watching anime and cartoons, and eat junk food and party with my friends, i’m going to get tattoos, pet every cat, make art and finish school, i’m going to hang with my sister and my family, and i’m going to heal and find love and care for myself and for another person again. i’m gonna give as much as I can and love and be kind. I’m not perfect but neither are you. We all have flaws so just damn love and embrace and smile at each other. Help each other.

Thank you to everyone who has been so patient and caring and supportive. I love you all so much and I can’t wait to continue my life with a new passion and outlook. 💘

[rainsonata]

Play Date

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: K Word Count: 5,805

Summary:  The school knew Mastermind by first name for Arc’s bi-monthly trips to the principal’s office because of “boredom.” That changes when Arc makes a new friend.  MMLP Modern AU developed with @blazingsnark, where MM and LP are single dads to AT and PT.

Note:  Rest of MMLP Modern AU can be found here.   

Mastermind placed his morning coffee mug inside one of the cup holders close to the driving stick and took a bite out of a bagel before wrapping it in napkins and placing it in the other cup holder.  He too cheerfully fiddled his hands at the steering wheel while waiting for Arc to get in.    

Arc grumbled as he took the lunch bag from Mastermind and climbed into the car, sticking his head out of the window as the car engine roared to life.  His legs dangled from his seat and he closed his eyes as they backed out of the garage and onto the streets, car jerking to the side when Mastermind made a sharp turn too soon.   A white backpack with purple outlines lay sandwiched between his legs, surely to smoosh the books and snacks packed inside if he wasn’t careful.  He toyed with the cat keychain attached to one of the zippers when he opened his eyes to peek and saw that they were minutes away from school.

Mastermind commented at a stoplight and glanced to see the bulging backpack.  “Are they already giving you lots of homework?”

He shook his head, “No, they’re books I borrowed from the library.”  Arc scrunched up his eyebrows to mirror his father, “So I won’t be bored.”   

“Third grade might be different,” Mastermind said, but didn’t believe a single word of it.  “You might make a friend.”  The unimpressed look Arc gave him was telling that he didn’t believe it either.  Phone calls home and parent-teacher meetings a few weeks into the year were enough evidence that not much has changed from the year before.

“It’s the same kids from last year,” Arc complained.

Mastermind sighed, already seeing where this was going.  Already a preteen, Arc was too old for arranged playdates and was never enthusiastic for them when he was younger.  He was more than aware that there weren’t a lot of options for Arc to make friends when they were already familiar with most of the children and their parents after years of sharing classes and teachers.  There were exceptions of course, but if there were, he didn’t hear a word about it from Arc.

“If the teacher calls me in again this week-“

“She called because she didn’t like my writing,” Arc protested.

“You wrote that she liked to pick her fingers during exams,” Mastermind reminded him.

“How can I pay attention if she keeps doing that?”

“Arc,” Mastermind sighed.

“You can drop me there,” he pointed at the sidewalk when Mastermind drove into the parking lot crammed full of other parents dropping their children off.  Arc grabbed his backpack and threw it on his back with lunch bag in hand, “Bye, Dad!”

Mastermind planted his face on the steering wheel for a few seconds and groaned.  Stupid, Masi, he scolded at himself at the failure to talk to Arc about making friends.  Flashbacks of being told who he could befriend and locked in the house to do extra homework haunted him even as he looked up to drive his car out of the parking lot.  He didn’t want Arc to go through that.  What was he doing wrong?  Arc was given more freedom on what to do, outside of academics and a few extracurriculars, and yet he never brought a friend home once.  What if Arc became friendless like him?

He grabbed the coffee from the cup holder beside him to take a sip and inhaled the fragrance of the drink.  Today was going to be another long day.    

Fiddling with his pencil for what felt like the millionth time that day, Arc looked down to his paper with a hunched back, the teacher’s voice droning in the background.  When he looked around the classroom to see that half of his peers were hardly paying attention like he was, Arc leaned in his seat with a quiet sigh.  This was so boring!

On his lap and underneath his desk was a book he brought with him to class.  Every now and then, after checking to make sure no one was looking, he would scoot his chair back to read a few lines before looking up again and pretended to be interested in the lesson.  His notebook was on his desk with some notes written down, but most of it was occupied by cats and cubes.  Ever since Mastermind taught him how to draw cubes, he couldn’t stop drawing them.  It was more fun than listening to his teacher talk about stuff he already knew.  He tried playing tic tac toe with himself, but it wasn’t fun if his pretend opponent kept blocking all his moves with x’s.

Arc pulled his textbook out from his bag, something he should have done at the beginning of class, and flipped over to the page to glance at the math problems set before him.  “What number?” He asked his neighbor with reluctance.

“Ten,” his classmate replied.

Arc thanked them and drew a line below his notes to mark his paper for the new math problem.  It only took him a few seconds of adding them up and carrying the numbers over to get his answer.  Was that all?

He went back to his book to read a few more sentences, but held his breath when it was the scene where the kids were caught in a misfire by the people chasing them.  Turning his head around to see what his classmates were doing, Arc saw that most of them were still writing in their notebooks.  He returned to the book to where the kids were trapped underneath a lake and there wasn’t much time to escape, the older character wasn’t going to make it…

“Did you already finish?”

“No, I’m only halfway through-“ Arc looked up to see the teacher standing over his shoulder.  He slid the book underneath his desk, but knew she already saw it on his lap.  Aw nuts.

“Meet me in the principal’s office after school,” she said quietly.

Luckily for him, this teacher was not one to cause a big scene.  She didn’t raise her voice when she waited for Arc to hand her the book and tucked it under her arm.  The teacher smiled, but he could tell she wasn’t pleased.  Arc held his breath.

“All right, now who wants to solve the problem on the whiteboard?” The teacher asked.

Arc sighed, burying his face into his arms and squeaked when he accidentally knocked his pencil off his desk.  Bending over to grab the rolling pencil, he stopped when he caught the stare of a student sitting next to him.  What was he looking at?

Crossing the soccer field later that day at recess, Arc ran to the area furthest from the classrooms, the one close to the fenced gate facing the streets.  He dodged a flying ball and scurried over to the big oak tree, sitting down happily with his legs crossed.  Arc tried not to think too much about being called to the principal’s office after class.  It didn’t bother him sitting with the principal – in fact, it was easier to talk to him than some of his peers - but he wasn’t looking forward to listening to the teacher and his dad talking about him.

“Hey, you’re the kid that always gets his book taken away in class!”

Arc looked up to see a boy running up to him, panting to catch his breath.  With the wind blowing, his messy white hair made him resemble the fluffy clouds above them.    

“So?” Arc scowled at him for stating the obvious.  Hugging the other book he brought with him to school, he turned his head in hopes of driving the other guy away with his display of disinterest.  What did he want?

The boy grinned, “That’s the new book that came out, right?  How far did you get?”

It took Arc a few seconds to realize that the boy wasn’t joking because he was jumping up and down in excitement.  There was no way anyone could fake that kind of enthusiasm, not if they were this happy to be talking to him at a speed that was almost impossible to understand.     

“Arc, right?” The boy stuck out his hand and beamed, “My name’s Psych!  Nice to meet you!”

“I knew that,” Arc lied.  He couldn’t recall the boy’s name because he never had a class with him until this year, but Psych didn’t need to know that.  “Why are you here?”  He wanted to get through a few pages before the bell rang, where he would soon have to face his dad.   

“You’re always by yourself,” he whined.  “So I thought I should join you!”

Arc look up to get a better look at his classmate.  Dressed in a black hood and a pair of jeans, there was nothing extraordinary about him, but his ever-smiling face made the sun behind him pale in comparison.  Oh yeah, they’ve been sitting next to each other all year.  They even did a few in-class assignments together.  How could he forget?

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Arc looked over at the children kicking the soccer ball around the field, watching it fly several yards over their heads before landing into the grass to be passed around.

He shrugged, “Not really.”

Now that Arc thought about it, he never recalled seeing Psych talk to a lot of people around him either.  He sometimes saw Psych playing tetherball by himself at recess, but he thought the boy was waiting for someone.

“So did you finish reading it?” Psych asked him again.

“Not yet,” Arc admitted.  “It’s a big book.”

Psych nodded and stage whispered, “I got the book yesterday, so don’t spoil it for me!”  

Arc rolled his eyes at how dramatic the boy was, but he didn’t complain.

“Want to go see my new Lego set?” he asked. “They have the characters from that book, and I didn’t open it yet.”

“Now?”

“It’s at home,” Psych shook his head.  “I can show it to you if you come to my house?”

Arc shook his head, “Can’t.”

“Oh, right, principal’s office.” He laughed, “You go there a lot, don’t you?”

“You have no idea…”

“How about this weekend?” Psych laughed again. “Can’t be in the principal’s office on the weekends, right?”

“Sure,” Arc wasn’t sure if he should have taken Psych’s comment as an insult or not, but he didn’t dwell on it when the bell rang and groaned.

Psych took him by the arm and pulled - nah, dragged - him across the soccer field to line up at the classroom and waited for the teacher to open it for them.  As they rushed to their desks to grab their bags, Psych dropped a paper ball at Arc’s desk and gave him a wink as he exited the room.  When Arc unraveled the paper ball and smoothed it out with his hand, he found Psych’s address in messy handwriting.

Pride rose inside Arc’s stomach at the realization.  He made a friend.

It was a quarter past two in the afternoon when Mastermind looked up at the sound of his name.  For once, he wasn’t bombarded with assignments at work, so he dropped by the coffee shop across his workplace to grab something to drink before having to pick up Arc from school.  It had been the barista calling his name, so Mastermind clicked his phone shut and walked up to grab his coffee.

“Heeeey!  Long time no see!”

He turned to see Elesis behind the counter in her barista uniform with a bright expression.  Resting her arm against the counter, she had her red hair tied into a high ponytail and winked at him.

Mastermind snorted. “We see each other every day.”

“Which is sadly not enough.” She feigned a teary look and ignored his rolled eyes.  “Very tragic.”

Mastermind shook his head at the dramatic display and laughed. “I’m going to guess it’s slow business today.”  He sometimes wondered why didn’t she go into theatrics when they were college students.  She always seemed ready to dish out bizarre one liners and entertained him and their other friends with her antics.    

“Hey, don’t be hasty,” Elesis waved off his comment.  “My shift ended with your drink.”

“As always.”

“That’s because you live here,” she teased.

“If only.” Mastermind laughed.

“So what is it today?  No phone call from the school?” Elesis hopped over the counter and followed Mastermind to sit with him at the table closest to the window.

“Not yet.” Mastermind tried to smile, but it felt like a herculean effort.        

Her eyes softened. “I’m sure Arc’s okay.”

That’s not what the teachers tell me, Mastermind wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.  He knew Arc wasn’t a bad child, but he was worried thinking about the kind of trouble his son may come into because of his mouth.  Of course…that was partially his fault.  From physical looks down to his favorite food, Arc inherited a lot from Mastermind, including his sharp tongue for better or worse. Usually it was for the worse when talking to people.

“He says he has no friends,” Mastermind ran through his roots with one hand.  “His teacher asked if something was going on at home.  She said he never talks to other children.  I told her no, but what if I’m wrong?  Maybe it was something I said or did wrong.”

“You’re not the only one taking care of Arc,” Elesis snapped at him.  “What about me?  Blade, Elsa, my husband?”

His phone vibrated in his pocket with irritation with a song he was too accustomed to playing in the background.  Mastermind stared at his coffee cup for a split second before fumbling through his pockets.  He almost dropped it when he found it and clumsily pressed to answer it.

His heart dropped in recognition of the phone number flashed across the screen, his breath hitched and his hands shook at the sound of the woman’s voice.  Arc’s teacher greeted him on the other side with the same tiredness he had, but her voice remained restrained as she told him the news.  No, he didn’t correct her again when she was trying to teach new material to the class.   Arc was caught reading a book in class and was sitting in the principal’s office, waiting for Mastermind to pick him up.

“I understand,” Mastermind’s senses grew numb.  There was a short pause on the phone before the teacher asked if he had any questions.  “No, I’ll pick him up.  Thank you.”

Elesis’s face was serious when he hung up the phone.  “His teacher?” she asked.

Mastermind nodded, “It’s nothing serious.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” she said.  “You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I’ll tell you more about later.” He stood up and gave Elesis an awkward wave with coffee in hand.  “Thanks for the coffee.”

Mastermind turned to sprint out the door, but squeaked when he bumped into someone and tumbled backwards.  His eyes widened when his coffee spilled over the person’s shirt and cursed to himself for his damn luck.  He didn’t even get past the halfway mark for that drink!  Rubbing the back of his head, Mastermind looked to see who it was.      

The person was a man with the face of a thug, or at least that’s what Mastermind thought.  He wore a collared shirt like Mastermind did, so he must have come out of work too.  He had his hand on his hip and scowled when Mastermind lowered his head to apologize.   

“Sorry,” Mastermind said sheepishly.  “I can help you with that.”  He backpedaled to the nearest table, flicked some napkins out of the dispenser, and held them out to the man.

The man grabbed the napkins and wiped the brown stains off his shirt (Who wore purple?). He patted it several times until it was all soaked up, then rolled the napkins into a ball and tossed it into the trash bin from across the room.   

“I can pay for your coffee,” Mastermind mumbled when he saw the man still glaring at him as if it was all his fault.  Okay, maybe it was, but he wasn’t sure on what else to do or say in this sort of situation.

The stranger sighed, “Forget it, it’s just a shirt.”  He turned to face Mastermind with brows relaxing to reveal the man was around the same age as him.  The man’s hair stuck up on one side like the wind blew in one direction.   

“All right,” Mastermind wasn’t convinced, but let it slide.  That person was a stranger after all, no need to make a big deal out of it.  He opened the door to leave the coffee shop, but couldn’t stop from looking back to see the stranger again.  The man’s hair was white.

Arc swung his legs in his chair, watching them dangle over the carpeted floor with a bored expression.  His textbook was opened to a page, but he couldn’t concentrate long enough to remember what the question was.  The eraser at the end of his pencil was almost all gone from erasing his writing for every time he misspelled a word.  He ended up drawing the neighbor’s cat he ran into this morning, and was giving it stripes when the door to the principal’s office opened.       

Shifting in his seat with discomfort, he peeked from behind his book with worried eyes, half expecting the person to be a teacher or another parent.  Arc squeaked when he saw it was Mastermind.  He shuffled his stuff together and tried to make himself presentable as possible, textbooks stacked with one opened on his lap and papers lined up with his pencils.  Arc gave Mastermind a cheery smile, but shrunk when he received dead eyes from him.  Oh no…what did the teacher tell him?

His mind and heart raced at the worse scenarios he could imagine.  Did the teacher say he talked back at her again?  Or was it because he corrected her on a math problem?  Could it be from the time he turned in a three-page book report when the rest of the kids wrote one page? Arc watched him walk into the office with the usual formal greeting, stuff adults did, but he noticed that Mastermind looked more tired than usual.    

“Mr. Grenore,” the principal greeted him.  “We’re glad to see you could make it today.”

“You were lucky to catch me on a day with light workload.” Mastermind laughed, but it was a hollow one that didn’t suit him.

Arc mentally groaned at the petty talk between the adults.  Why did they do this all the time?  He tuned out their conversation to look at the reading passage he has been stuck on for the past minutes or so, but sometimes looked up to pretend he was paying attention.

“Must be tough with those assignments,” the principal said sagely.

Mastermind shrugged, “It’s something you get used to, but I managed.”

“Arc was caught reading in class again,” his teacher interrupted the small talk.

Arc almost pushed his book onto the floor when he rested his elbow on it.  He caught the book from falling over and stopped himself from fussing when his pencil left a mark on the pages.  Arc rubbed his eraser on the pages, careful that the pages didn’t crumble and hoped that it was enough to take out the marks.    

“Yes, as you told me on the phone,” Mastermind crossed his arms.  “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“He keeps disturbing the class and correcting me last week,” she rambled.  “I’m trying to teach the material to my class and he’s making them question me.”

“Well that’s the teacher’s job, isn’t it?  If they ask you questions, then you should answer them so they can learn.” Mastermind looked down to ask Arc.  “Did you finish your work before reading?”

Arc, who had his arms on the chair’s arm rest and looking up between the adults, was relieved to see his dad finally talk to him instead of the teacher.  He meekly replied, “Yes.”

“I don’t see the problem then.” Mastermind closed his eyes. “If there’s nothing else to talk about, then we’ll be leaving.”  He went to gather Arc’s books and said, “You ready?”

Arc threw his books and pencil into his bag and pulled the zipper to close his backpack, eager to grab Mastermind’s arm to pull him away from his teacher and the principal.  Finally, they were leaving!    

When they sat in the car, he was at the front seat as always with Mastermind at the steering wheel, but why weren’t they starting the car?  Arc hugged his backpack and looked at Mastermind to see that his dad wasn’t angry, or at least he wasn’t frowning or scolding him.  Not yet.    

Mastermind tapped his finger on the steering wheel without looking at Arc, closing his eyes and breathing in to calm himself down.  Arc blinked and looked down.  There was no familiar coffee cup at the front of the car, was that why Mastermind was tired?

“Are you mad at me?” Arc broke the silence.

“No,” Mastermind said, without an ounce of anger in his voice.  “Arc…this is the second time in the office this month.  I know you finished your work, but this teacher isn’t as forgiving as last year’s.”

“She doesn’t let any of us have fun,” Arc grumbled, but low enough so that Mastermind couldn’t hear it.  He said out loud, “Guess what, Dad?  I made a friend today!”

He waited for a response from Mastermind, who straightened his back and turned to give Arc a wide-eyed look in disbelief.  Arc grinned when his dad asked, “Who is it?”

“His name is Psych,” Arc said with excitement.  “He invited me over this weekend to see his new toys.  Can I go?”

Now that he earned Mastermind’s full attention, Arc bounced in his seat, waving the crumbled paper with the address to show to him as proof.  The writing was messy, but he read it out to Mastermind and said, “He doesn’t live far from here.”     

Mastermind rubbed his forehead, “You’re still in trouble for being in the principal’s office.”  He saw Arc’s smile waver and said, “But…I’ll let you go only if you promise not to get in trouble again by the end of this week.”

He knew Mastermind was disappointed in him for the trouble he caused, and he did feel bad about it, but it was hard to control himself when it felt like his teacher and most of his classmates were ignoring him.  But still, all he had to do was keep his mouth shut this week.  That’s all it took.  Arc crossed his fingers, promised, and prayed that this week would be over already.      

True to Arc’s promise, there were no phone calls from the school for the rest of the week, earning Mastermind more downtime, although the habit of checking his phone for every notification was tiring.  Without the need to wake up for class or work on Saturday, it was a lazy morning where they could finish breakfast at a table for once.  Mastermind smiled when Arc eagerly reminded him what day it was.

“Come on, dad!”  Arc had on a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a backpack again overstuffed with books and toys.  “Let’s go!”

“Psych’s house isn’t going to run away from us.” Mastermind chuckled at his son’s impatience.

Mastermind wondered if he was being too lenient with Arc.  While he thought the reasons for his son landing in the principal’s office were stupid, he still had to be the responsible parent and at least remind Arc not to get in trouble.  He thought he was being fair about it.  Arc wasn’t allowed to touch the TV or even his books until he was done with homework and chores throughout the week and had to sleep earlier than usual.  Mastermind made sure of that and kept an eye on him despite the complaints he received from Arc.  Going by that reasoning, it wasn’t wrong for him to go play with a friend on the weekend, right?   

They had trouble finding Psych’s house because of the messy writing, with both trying to decipher the letters and a few occasions of Mastermind missing turns or taking the wrong street.  Even after finding the right neighborhood, it took a few minutes of them searching for the house.  Mastermind was ready to give up when he heard Arc shout.

“Dad, I found it!”  Arc pointed at the address number lined down from the side of the house with happiness.  It matched the address from the paper they were looking at for the past half hour or so.  He waited for Mastermind to catch up to him before ringing the doorbell with anticipation.

Mastermind looked down at Arc to see that his son was bouncing on his feet.  He hasn’t seen that bright eyed look from Arc since the first day of kindergarten, a sight that made him feel a mixture of happiness and sadness.  What if it turned out that Psych didn’t like Arc or something happened that this would be the only time they meet up?  His muscles tensed the more he thought about the possibilities.    

His son made a few friends in school, but they weren’t long lasting friendships like he would have hoped for.  They were “invite all the classmates” scenarios, not mandatory, but might as well have been because parents did it to avoid making a child feel left behind.  It felt like invitations out of pity and that didn’t sit well with Mastermind.  They weren’t personal, and he had learned over the years that they didn’t mean much to the children themselves when they had their closer friends to be with.  They usually ended with the children sticking to their close friends and leaving Arc sitting by himself.  

“They’re not answering,” Mastermind frowned.  Were they at the wrong house?  Could it be that Psych gave them the wrong address?  It was autumn, so the driveway was covered in leaves when he went to see a car parked outside.  He sneezed when a small leaf fell on his face and snorted.

“I’ll try again,” Arc refused to be discouraged and rang the door a couple of more time before knocking.  The door opened midway through one of his knocks. Arc nearly fell over, but was caught by Mastermind.

Behind the door was a child that managed to be shorter than Arc, who was small for his age.  His white hair was a mess and grinned when he saw Arc and waved.   

That must be Psych, Mastermind thought when he noticed that the child was still in his pajamas – purple ones with cat imprints on them and a pair of cat slippers to match.   

“Who is it?” An older voice floated out of the house, and a man came to the door.

Mastermind did a backtrack at what he thought looked like an older version of Psych.  This man looked like he had just rolled out of his bed.  Like Psych, his white hair was in disarray, standing up all over the place, and he wore only a tank top and a pair of boxers.  The man rubbed his eyes when he squinted at them.  Mastermind’s breath grew short when he got a better look at the man’s face.

It was the guy from the coffee shop!  

Wait, he was Psych’s dad?  Mastermind couldn’t take his eyes away from the man’s face, shocked to see how young he was from the typical parent.  He couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than him.                               

The man yawned, “You’re here early.”

Mastermind glanced at his cell phone’s clock and bit his lip from blurting out, It’s 10:41 in the morning.

He gave Mastermind a tired expression as if to say, Yeah, but it’s Saturday, dumbass, but acknowledged them with a nod and ushered them into the house, closing the door behind him.

As they walked in, Mastermind saw the living room was well lived in.  Stacks of books sat at the coffee table with notebook paper laid out to reveal a child’s drawing that was hard to identify under the dim light.  Occupying at the front of the room, taking up almost half of the wall was a big flat screen TV with the plastic tape still applied to the frames.  A video game console behind the TV cabinet had video games lined up next to it.  He didn’t miss the bookshelf sitting in the corner of the room, many of the books worn out from the binding when Mastermind examined them from afar.     

The man blinked as if he finally noticed the mess and said to Psych, “Why don’t you go change clothes while I show them where to sit?”

Mastermind stared at the sofa cushions on the floor and the blankets sprawled across the wooden floor, “Sit where?”   

Perhaps he was too tired to respond to the sarcasm, but the man went to grab the pillows, tossing them to the sofa and folding the blankets to place it in the storage box that doubled as the coffee table.  Gathering the loose-leaf paper to form into a neat stack, he waved his hand, “Psych and I were up last night trying to finish a game.”

Had this man and his son slept in the living room?  Mastermind was starting to wonder what kind of person let his son stay up late to game, but nodded in understanding.  Once the area was cleared, which didn’t take too long, he and Arc sat on the sofa with the man sitting at the far end of it, opposite of where Mastermind was.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself,” the man gave him a lazy grin.  “I’m Lusa, Psych’s dad.  And you must be Arc!”

Arc, who was busy looking at the bookshelf crammed with books with interest, but jumped in his seat when realizing he was being talked to.  He looked up to nod his head at Psyker and turned pink in embarrassment.

“He’s shy,” Mastermind excused his son.  “He’s-“  

“Let him talk,” Psyker stared at him.  “He has a mouth, doesn’t he?”

Mastermind felt the heat traveling up his face and through his ears.  Try as he might, he could not will himself to avoid his cheeks turning pink and looked away.  Who was this guy to interrupt him like that?  He was trying to justify Arc’s actions, wasn’t he?  Or was that wrong and he should have let Arc speak for himself?  Arc was eight years old after all, old enough to be trusted with many things.  He didn’t have to look at Psyker to know that he was being judged.  What was the other thinking?

“Hello,” Arc said in a quiet voice, gripping on the backpack straps, but made eye contact with Psyker with a small smile.   

“Hopefully it won’t take long for Psych to get ready,” Psyker said. “We didn’t think you would come here before noon.”

Mastermind nodded, recalling that the paper did say to meet up at around noon.  Arc wanted to come earlier, but Mastermind also wanted to come along to see what kind of house Psych lived in.

“I’m here!” Psych popped from behind the sofa with his face in between Arc and Mastermind.  The small child wore a t-shirt with a popular video game character that looked like a yellow rabbit (or was that a mouse?) and a pair of shorts going down to his knees.  However, his hair remained spiky and stood up to make him appear taller.  He went over to grab Arc by the arm and laughed, “Let’s play!”

“Not until you eat first,” Psyker chided lightly.  He turned to Mastermind, “Masi, right?  Join us for brunch.”

Mastermind looked at him in surprise at the sound of his own name being said by a stranger he had just met minutes ago.  He and Arc had breakfast earlier, but he knew that wasn’t the right answer.  Psych pouted on the side, but was happy when at the sound of him and Arc joining them for brunch.  Mastermind felt guilt for ever considering that Psych would try to trick Arc into being friends.  What was he thinking?

“How do you know my name?” Mastermind asked.

“You spilled your coffee on me,” Psyker said.  “Your name was on the cup.”  

Of course.

Mastermind forced himself to stop blushing from embarrassment.  It wouldn’t hurt to stay, right?  He wanted to see how Arc would get along with Psych too.  The look Psyker gave him was understanding, as if he knew his internal struggle, but that was ridiculous.  He slowly nodded.

“Great!”  Psyker grinned. “I’m going to go change.  Be sure not to break anything while you’re here.”   

Mastermind couldn’t tell if this man was joking or not.

Arc thought it was funny and giggled at Psyker’s comment.  Well, at least someone found this entertaining!  Mastermind rolled his eyes and started to question if it was a good idea to stick around.

With Psyker gone, Psych and Arc were quick to start a conversation and were talking to each other, something about a new video game.  He saw Psych’s animated eyes move around as he reenacted something from the game with exploding sound effects.  His expression softened when Arc took out a book to explain something to Psych, eager to share with the smaller boy.  Much to his surprise and relief, Psych shared the same enthusiasm, with both talking back and forth at a pace that was hard for Mastermind to keep up with.

When Psyker came back, it was in a t-shirt with the logo of a company and a pair of jeans.  Like Psych, his hair was spiked up.  Compared to Psyker, Mastermind felt like he overdressed with his collared shirt and vest.        

He saw Mastermind sitting by himself and approached him. “Hey, I know we didn’t have a good start today.”

No kidding, Mastermind thought about the spilled coffee or seeing Psyker half-dressed at the front door.  

“I feel bad about you losing your drink,” he scratched the back of his head, a peculiar behavior that was hard to ignore.  “Want to grab coffee sometime?”  

Really?  He looked at Psyker for confirmation, but the other gave him a bright expression, lighting up when Mastermind took his invitation and nodded again.  He tried not to dwell on the idea too much, his ears grew warm again and it was difficult for him to think straight. Mastermind pretended to be interested in joining his son and Psych in the kitchen to help set up the table while Psyker went to prepare the food.  

A coffee date didn’t sound too bad.