Head case

Intro to Psychology

“You know, most people find nail biting an irritating tick and it actually puts them off.”

The man adjusts his glasses.

“You know, most people find snooping around their habits for deeper problems in their psyche irritating and it can really put them off.”

The short teen replies tersley.

As emphasis to his statement, the dark haired boy spits out a chewed nail in the direction of the psychologist and huffs in his seat. There’s no sound in the room except for the soft scraping of pen on paper and the gentle whirr of the air conditioner.

Tiredly rubbing his face and smoothing back his ginger hair, the man takes off his glasses and sets them down on the pad of paper on the wooden tea table next to him.

“Victor, dodging my questions won’t help you move past your problems. If you just accept the sentiment that i truly want to help you, then we can get though this, together. Do you understand that?”

Victor adjusts the black fingerless gloves he adorns everyday, picking out bits of stray fluff, before looking at the clock on the baby blue wall behind the psychologist in front of him. “I understand that the reason we are here is because I chose you for your forte and that my mother pays you to try and help me not fling myself into the way of the nearest truck.” He looks into the man’s eyes, unflinching. “Nothing more and nothing less.”

A look of utter pity and sadness is directed at the teen, a mouth opening, beginning to form words when-

“Well, Mycroft, our time’s over. See you Friday.” Quick strides towards the door and a descent down and out the reception towards a sleek, small black car outside.

The car rumbles as it makes it’s way out of the lot and into the busy streets.

“So, how’d it go, honey?”

“Mom, it’s the same as always. I go in. We talk. I leave. Okay? I just really want to get home.”

“..Okay.”

Victor looks at the profile of his mother. Wrinkles deep set, tired eyes and a trying face. White, short hair spiked up in a futile attempt to seem younger. He really hated how she worried over him. It was nothing. He was fine. Really.

He’s a great liar. Honest.

Trying Technology (Man’s Best Friend)

Victor unintentionally slams the door, unfocused in his lethargy, and plops down in the comfy leather seat by his large desk. Booting up his PC he feels calmed already by the soft fan of his computer and the clicks it makes as it wakes up. Logging in and searching the various folders on the desktop, he finds a game simple enough to take his mind off of everything.

As the familar Bethesda logo appears on his screen and the faint singing reminiscent of old Nordic times bounces around his headphones, he begins immersing himself with his character and the game.

It’s not that he’s running away from his problems, because he isn’t. It’s more like his problems called to ask if they could meet up for coffee at that place they love and he feigned being ill, saying, “sorry, maybe next week? Alright sounds good. Yeah, no, it’s really bad this time. Nausea and everything.”

Again, he’s not running. Running would mean something’s coming after him and it wants do something. Running signifies he’s a buck and his problems are the lion pride coming to get their lunch. No, his problems are more like that terrible person you really can’t stand but bear with out of manners and end up conversing with often.

“I’m losing it. I’m referring to all my crap as people. Woe is me.” He mutters, clicking the mouse as his gaming character saves a village from bandits.

And, come on, it’s not like it’s just him against the tide. He told his best friend, Jeehan, the skinny neurotic girl with self-harm scars from her wrists to her shoulders. She’s got more problems than him but she still smiles and talks positively. It could all be a farce but that’s okay because everyone fakes it. Thinking back, he grimaces.

Ah, and then there’s Zoe. The newest addition to their ragged group of friends. The loud and funny one who never goes out and always gets her work done quicker than the others. Thinking more, he realises she doesn’t really have friends and while she talks to all of them she’s not really riends with them and he’s never seen her out of school and--

“Oh.” He pauses the game just before a mage can send a bolt of flame to his companion. “I don’t actually know her.” This is said quietly as the realisation spreads like a cold, slow shower.

He remembers telling her about signing forms to see the school shrink but also seeing a “legit proffessional” because he’s dealing with some stuff, and her inquiries into what exactly he was dealing with. She stated it was because she wanted to help, and that she wouldn’t tell anyone (she doesn’t have anyone to tell, now does she?) but he declined, saying only Jeehan and his mother knew.

He tried to continue but Zoe quickly told him to stop and she started to cry. She explained it was because she’s dealt with this untrustworthy, not-really-friends shtick before and she didn’t want him to continue otherwise she’d have her own stuff to deal with. After that, the conversation quickly changed topic.

“I kinda fucked up.”

But... Then again... Did he?

He doesn’t really know her, as he previously came to terms with. And she isn’t really his friend so... All’s good. Right?

A groan echoes on the game and startled, Victor watches his character die, body wrapped in flames as the mage runs past. Sighing, he quits the game before it can reload the last save file. He scratches an itch on his wrist and thinks of his old friend who killed himself.

Maybe this is how the play goes. Maybe’s it’s Shakespearian and everyone’s doomed to die? It sure feels like it. He just wishes he had the script so he could see how it ends instead of guessing everything and falling on his face.

Irritably blowing out air and rubbing at his small, slanted eyes, he starts to kick off his shoes and shrug off his jacket, putting his small, circular glasses on the desk. Nap time for Victor. Ambling towards the bed in boxers and a T-shirt, he falls into the bed, rolling so that he’s wrapped in the blankets like a sad cocoon. Before sleep hits him, one last train of thought rumbles by, carts shaking.

Maybe everyone needs someone to help them with things. But how?