wellownedbkup: (sounding smarter than i am)
[personal profile] wellownedbkup
About Nix.

There's a long line of ticky boxes stretching down the page; finally a yes or no section in an interminably long test about feelings. He knows why he's filling it out, but it's not like he really sees the point in rating his moods after eating on a scale from one to five. If he was more honest with himself, he'd own up to why he's taking so long to fill it out.

It's not like there isn't a red flag in his file already about being a teenager and jumping off the roof of his house. His need for therapy is a moot point.

It feels like a test. He's not sure of the right answers for it anymore, anyway, analyzing each question overly so, in case this therapist is different and already has judged him a freak by page 2. He misses Boston for that alone, since they'd already seen his medical history and known him for years. But he has to admit... Italy is a change. A welcome change.

He finally just breathes and scribbles it an x wherever the question requires it before twirling his thumbs and staring blankly at the wall in front of him to see the shrink. He really can't complain, considering there are relatively few people who can recommend an English speaking therapist in the middle of nowhere along the coast. Nix has learned to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

When they begin, it's the same as it always is. Start off by talking about whatever comes up. So Nix introduces himself, talking about graduating from KSA, the opportunity to take up residence in a bungalow in Messina, the way the salt air refreshes him. He mentions how she's much more apt to pose for him nude in this light, laughing, when the conversation gets more directly focused.

"And what is she to you, may I ask?"

Nix fumbles, choking on the laugh dying in his throat. What is she? She's... Shay. He almost can't think of another way to describe it. Somehow it feels like it answers everything for him. The beginning and the end, his mornings and his evenings... At times, his very breath... It's all Shay. He frowns slightly and shifts in the chair, trying to find a way to phrase it better. How can he put into words that she's his best friend, his lover, his muse? How does he tell a veritable stranger that he dreams of her even when she's by his side? Or that she knows his darkest secrets and still loves him? Can he say that he's more alive and more stable than he's ever been because he knows her, or does that make him appear too dependent?

He wants to say that he's not a monster because she believes in him, but he's not sure that's true either. He opens his mouth to try to put into words what she means to him and how he can't think of a life without her.

"She’s... Mine."

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