Chapter Text
As the car slowly pulled up to the front of a small building in the middle of Columbia, Neil’s regret for ever listening to his coach grew. He sighed deeply, no doubt getting on the nerves of the tall, dark-haired man sitting in the driver’s seat beside him.
“Look, I really don’t understand why coach is making me do this. It has nothing to do with Exy!”
Jean wearily turns in his seat to stare him in the eyes, “Neil, just because it isn’t Exy does not make it pointless. Now, we’ve had this conversation and I really don’t feel up for having it again. Please just go in and give it a try.”
“Whatever”, Neil mumbles.
He moves out of the car, very slowly, hoping Jean will feel bad and change his mind. Turning back to the car, with his best puppy dog face (as Thea calls it) he finds that Jean has literally leant over to his seat, closed the door and is pulling back onto the road. He doesn’t even look guilty!
Forlornly watching the back of the car turn around the corner Neil begins to make a list of ways to escape from this nightmare.
1. He could run back to his apartment, even though it would take a few hours.
2. He could use public transport, although truthfully Neil hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet and usually ends up getting lost and having to call Jean or Kevin to pick him up.
3. Hitchike. This one brings back too many memories of the past, so he quickly stops these thoughts in their tracks.
Turning back around to face the innocuous looking building, he forces himself to walk forward.
Wymack (Kevin’s father and who had told Neil many times that he was always there for him if he needed it) had made him promise to see a therapist. And that was the only reason he found himself here, because honestly he was FINE. He just didn’t want to disappoint Wymack.
Sweat collected in the grooves of his palms. Wiping them on his sweatpants, Neil pushed through the door. The mixture of cigarette smoke and hot chocolate invades his senses. Inhaling deeply, memories surge back into his mind, memories he would much rather stay in the past, thankyou very much. Shuddering softly, his eyes track carefully over the room, making note of doors (escape routes) and people (threats). There is a young mother sitting down reading a magazine and not paying attention to him at all as well as a young girl sitting behind a computer at the back of the room, where a sign sits telling customers to sign in. The girl looks up at him and smiles slightly.
“Neil Josten for 10am,” he mutters.
“Just take a seat anywhere, you won’t have to wait for long,” her voice quiet and timid. She averts her eyes quickly.
He takes a seat in the middle of the room, with nothing but his own thoughts to torment him.
Why the hell would anyone ever voluntarily see a shrink? He ponders this question whilst staring at the wall with what seems to be a picture of a grumpy cat. Its eyes seem to be boring holes in him, and he can’t find the strength to look away. Seeing as he has nothing better to do than sit here, he decides to have a staring contest with the angry being in front of him. He must have been sitting in the room for 20 minutes in stony silence when the receptionist comes over to disturb him.
She seems wary to interrupt, but on deeper inspection, it is likely to be the stony expression permanently stuck onto his face that is deterring her. Neil tries to wipe the frown from his face, because Jean is always telling him it is off putting.
“You can head through that door and wait for Bee there”, the girl says, pointing to a door on the far wall, with yet again, another grumpy cat stuck to the front. What’s with all the cats?
Jumping to his feet and stretching slightly, he makes his way through the door into a corridor with yet another couple of doors. The hallway smells even more strongly of cigarette smoke, forcing him back to another time. He can’t help his hands from shaking as the memories assault his senses: the feel of the slick blood and its metallic scent.
A sharp sting in his leg has him startling to the present, his palms sweating and hands shaking. His eyes jump down to his leg where the pain is coming from to see what attacked him. Eyebrows raising in surprise, Neil finds himself staring into the eyes of an orange cat who is currently climbing his leg. Unsure what to do, he watches it struggle to make its way higher. A soft inhale has him looking up to meet hazel eyes narrowed at the cat.
Leaning against the wall across from him is a man in his mid-twenties: light blond hair gelled back into what he is assuming it a trendy hairstyle, two piercings in his eye brow, black armbands from wrist to elbow, with matching black T-Shirt and black slacks. He is currently staring impassively at Neil, having broken his stare with the demonic creature. Neil stares back, growing increasingly annoyed with the man. Why is he just staring at him? Shuffling uncomfortably in irritation, he shakes his leg to hopefully get rid of the cat, however it seems to be an immovable object, only looking slightly peeved by the jostling. What the fuck?
“Just pull him off”, the blond man says, somehow completely unaffected by the scene in front of him.
Neil looks at the man with derision. “He won’t let go.”
He steps closer to Neil and pries the kitten’s claws from his sweatpants without difficulty, looking up at Neil in disdain, making it clear just how unimpressed he is by his stupidity. A door down the corridor opens and a little girl holding a black cat and an older woman wearing a smiling face walks into the hall.
“Andrew can you please get Sir from Josie.”
The girl, looking slightly upset at the prospect, tightens her hold on the cat before letting go for Andrew to pick him up. With the older lady leading her by the shoulder, they make their way back through to the waiting room.
Now that he realizes he only has a few minutes to either escape or prepare for the inevitable, nervous energy begins racing through him. He yearns to go for a long run or shoot exy balls into the net for an hour or two. With nowhere for his excess energy to go, he is left with sweaty palms and a racing heart, its staccato rhythm echoing in his chest until it feels as though he can feel it everywhere. Neil has never liked staying in one place for long. As his heart rate continues to speed up, he feels his breath come in quick puffs of air. His fist clenches until he can feel the short stubs of his nails indenting onto his palm. This, however, isn’t what brings him back into his body. A small burst of pain in his thigh makes him snap to attention, looking down to find the orange demon trying to climb even higher. How the hell had he forgotten about it? He blames the weird man in front of him for the distraction. The wild pumping of his heart calms and his eyes wander upwards to find the man, Andrew, staring at him emotionlessly, still holding the black cat.
“Finished with your meltdown yet?”
Neil huffs, chest filling with righteous anger at this man. Who does he think he is? The anger is also for himself. Just a little. He hates losing control of himself and hates it even more when people witness this weakness. Rolling his eyes, he takes a seat before remembering about the orange demon. Now sitting, the cat continues to climb and lies does quickly on his lap in a little ball of fluff. The fluffiness snags his attention. The softness of its fur as he strokes it surprises him. Lost in the cat’s soft fur, he doesn’t feel the stare the other man is directing to him. The door opens back up with a quiet click and the older woman from before walks back into the corridor.
“Neil, it’s nice to meet you. Please come into my office when you are ready,” she says smiling down at him.
Her smile forces him to grab the cat and hop to his feet, walking over to Andrew.
“Here’s your cat… Well I think its your cat anyway,” muttering almost to himself and shoving the ball of fluff into Andrew’s arms without touching him.
Andrew slowly grabs the kitten without looking away from his face. Neil feels himself grow red at the attention, realizing quickly why the man is paying him so much attention. Strangers all look at him with varying mixes of judgement, pity, horror and terror, so he should honestly be used to it now. Bringing a hand to his face, he traces the ugly scars on his cheekbones absently and quickly diverts his attention from Andrew, scared he will see the disgust that is so clearly going to be in his eyes.
Neil quickly moves into the office the woman had indicated without a backward glance, although he can still feel Andrew’s gaze boring into his back.
After Betsy (or Bee apparently) starts with a quick introduction she tries to ease his quite obvious tension. “Neil, I have known Wymack for quite some time now. He mentioned that you were very reluctant to come and see me and I completely understand your hesitance. I think its important to stress that you do not need to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable and I am here to listen without judgement and to help in any way I can.”
“I don’t need your help.” Now Neil realizes that his voice sounds petty and childish but his skin still feels stretched too thin over his bone. The lights are too bright, blaring into his eyes His clothes are too tight over his sensitive scars. The chocolate smell is overpowering and he can’t manage to get his thoughts to straight. He is overwhelmed and stuck in a small office with an unknown woman.
“It is a requirement by your team that you have mandatory check ins with me once a week for now. You aren’t the only player to come and see me so don’t worry. Let’s just try and get to know each other and we can go from there.”
“Whatever.”
“Are you ready to play against the Bearcats this weekend?”
And off Neil went, wasting the hour appointment with Bearcat’s statistics and potential plays, barely waiting a breath before starting again, in hopes that the lady wouldn’t ask him anything personal. It worked. An hour after he stepped into the office, Bee politely interrupted his rant asking if this time suited in a week.
Feeling the sun warming his body, he waited beside the road for Jean to show up and take him back to the apartment. He took his first deep breath as he stepped outside of the building, relief flooding his body. Neil knew himself and understood that once they opened his can of worms (aka trauma, shut up Jean) that he had buried deep, deep down, there would be no place that he could hide. Happiness is not an emotion that comes naturally to him after everything that has happened. Content is what he currently was. He had a fantastic job as well as Kevin and Jean. That was all he needed.
As Jean and Neil travelled back to his apartment in silence, he stared out the window wondering what happiness would truly feel like.