#we stan a disaster child of indeterminate gender

[beneath-our-masks]

I was going to come up with an elegant summary, but basically, Riley hates therapy. A lot.

Shockingly enough, there are no content warnings aside from mild language (I think there is one (1) swear).

--

Imani smiled as Riley walked into the office. “Hey Riley, come on in and sit down. We didn’t get off on the best foot before, but I do want to say I’m sorry for reacting so harshly toward you. How are you doing today?” she asked.

Riley rolled their eyes and leaned on the doorframe, not fully entering the room. "Why is this mandatory?" they asked, frowning.

"You hacked into most of the files; you know that most of your peers acquired their powers under traumatic circumstances. And those who didn't at least need check-ins, since being a teenager is already a lot without having powers, being a hero, and everything else," Imani explained pleasantly.

Groaning, Riley entered the room. "Yes, but why do I also have to partake in this horrible charade?" They asked, going up to a bookshelf and scanning over the books, frowning at the fact most of them had to do with queer studies and superpowers. "Why do you care so much?" Riley motioned at the books. "Like who cares about this shit?" Yes, Riley was queer, but they didn't really understand the newfound obsession people have been taking to it.

"The vast majority of psychological research has been done on privileged straight white college students, so bringing in queer identities is important to me, especially as a queer person. And, well, you can imagine why I care about powers. And to answer your first question," Imani continued, doing her best to school her expression, "it's a program requirement. It was in the informational packet people received. Helps ensure safety and minimal risk and all that."

Riley grimaced, "Is there any way for me to get out of this?" They leaned against the back wall, arms crossed over their chest, as they looked at Imani.

"Nope, it's mandatory to ensure that all of you are safe. So, just so I make sure I'm referring to you correctly, what name would you like to be called in these sessions and what are your preferred pronouns?

"Let me guess, if I refuse to play along, I can't be on the team, correct?" Riley frowned.

"I mean, you can, but you'll just prolong your torture," Imani joked. "Whether or not you talk to me, we have to do enough therapy each week for me to get the information I need. Usually that's an hour, but if I'm not getting what I need it can be longer."

Giving in, Riley sighed and went to sit down. "Riley. They/Them."

"Okay, perfect. So, Riley, how do you feel about being here? Do you feel alright about your roommate situation, about everyone here?" Imani asked, ready to take notes.

"Fine. Everything and everyone is fine."

"Do you get along with Dakota?"

Riley shrugged.

"Okay. How is school?"

Scowling, Riley tried to keep his voice level, "It's fine."

“What school do you go to?" Imani asked, noticing that Riley wasn't happy about this topic.

Their scowl deepened, "Only the most privileged private school in the city."

"You say that like you don't like it. Are there things in particular about it that you dislike?"

"What's there to like?" Riley rolled their eyes.

"Okay, you tell me. What's one thing about school that you don't hate?" Imani asked gently. “I’m sure you can come up with one.”

"Nothing. There is nothing to like." Riley hissed out.

"Okay, we can drop it for now. But I do have to ask you---do you feel safe at school?"

Riley barked out a laugh, "Yeah, totally. People are afraid to come near me since they know who my parents are."

"What do you mean?" Imani asked.

Riley shrugged, "Does it matter?"

"I'm just curious. It could help me if I understood. Your moms aren't scary people, at least from what I see--am I wrong?"

Riley groaned, "They are mama bears, tiger moms, and frankly, I wish they weren't with me. Now can we move on?"

"You wish they weren't with you? What do you mean by that?" Imani asked.

Riley's left leg began to bounce from irritation and anxiety, "Next question."

"Alright. How do you get along with...your little sister? I have that right?"

"Yes, you do. And we get along great."

"That's great! Can you tell me a little about her? How old is she? What's she like?"

Sighing, Riley spoke, "She's four. Adopted at the same time I was. She's a bubbling little ball of energy with budding illusion powers."

Imani smiled. "What do you two do together?"

"Is this necessary? All these questions?"

"I mean I do have to get some information to show that these sessions are achieving something with you. I could keep asking other questions, but I get the feeling this line of questioning is one you'll  actually answer."

Sighing again, Riley rolled their shoulders, trying to relax. "Fine, whatever. I take her to the park after I pick her up from pre-school."

"That sounds nice. Is there anything I can do besides abandoning these sessions entirely to make you more comfortable here?"

"No." A slight smirk flitted across Riley's face.

"Okay, well, let me know if that changes. We can do the sessions outside the office if you hate the office, we can restructure how we do it. So let me know. Anyhow, I know you don't want to talk about your parents, but I do have to ask--do you feel safe at home?

Rolling their eyes, Riley nodded, "Yes. Now oh my god please stop talking."

Imani chuckled. "Well, since you asked so kindly, I think we can end this session early. Any other thoughts or requests for me regarding next time, aside from scrapping it altogether?"

"No."

"Alright. Well, thank you for putting up with this, and I'm looking forward to talking with you more next week," Imani replied with a smile. "Feel free to head out."