Adam stared at the only other living being in the room, the unrelenting smell of air freshener making his nose itch.

“Adam… Flores Castillo?” the man behind the desk read from the hefty file, giving him that all too infuriatingly familiar look of suspicion and confusion.

“Grandma from my father's side was white. I got her genes.” He, once again, justified the lack of Latino looks that every Mexican, according to the laws of the universe, just had to have apparently. Seriously, why did every Mexican have to look Latino? Surely there were plenty of white people in Mexico before the war. That's why they spoke Spanish over there instead of… whatever language the Aztecs spoke!

“Huh, very well.” He egkologed, before going back to the papers, slouched with his shoeless feet over a heater. “Here it says it's not the first time you pull a stunt like this… 19 times in the span of 2 school years? That's definitely one time too many,” he continued.

“I guess…” Adam shrugged, leaning so he could get a good look at the framed degrees hung on the wall behind the man.

Jonathan Harris. A man with quite the collection of accolades in the area of psychology and education.

Where was Mr. Jenkins, though? Did he quit? He couldn't picture him quitting. He was also still rather young. Well, too young to retire at least. And Adam couldn't picture him being fired either; he was so nice… Did Mark have anything to do with this-- Wait, no. He was being paranoid-- No, it wouldn't be the first time Mark somehow messed with the school's staff, but… Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask. Maybe he just got a better job somewhere.

“What happened to Mr. Jenkins?” 

“Who?” he questioned, eyes still on the papers.

“The old counselor?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t share those details with me.”

“Oh, okay…”

Adam stayed quiet, hearing the clock tick away to the sound of papers being flipped with a licked thumb--

“So, Adam.” The man called, finally closing the file and throwing it on the desk. “What seems to be the problem?” He questioned, leaning back with his fingers interlocked over his lap.

Adam stared at the man for a second, slowly raised his bandaged hand, and pointed at it while looking him in the eyes.

“I stabbed myself in the middle of class?” he reminded the oh-so-condecorated doctor sitting in front of him with his UGLY SOCKS ON DISPLAY!

Did this guy fail upwards, or was he only there for the paycheck-- If he saw him wiggle his toes ONE MORE TIME-- Smashing rude people's toes with hammers should be legal… It should be legal! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS GUY'S PROBLEM?!

“Yes, I can see that, but why?” he asked, rolling his eyes and sounding rather unamused.

“Didn’t it say in my file?” Adam refused to entertain his lack of tact, crossing his arms and leaning back. 

“It says that you do this so… you can try and get out of classes?” he questioned with an arched eyebrow.

Adam nodded.

“But why?” 

“What do you mean why? I don't feel like being stuck inside a classroom, simple as that,” he excused. “I hate school and don't feel like being in class sometimes, so I just grab whatever sharp thing happens to be nearby, and… Well, I give myself a justification to get some time off from classes.”

The man stared at him, visibly unconvinced by his story.

“...Adam, your file says you have a 93% average, near perfect attendance, are always polite to teachers and staff, never damaged school property, and, while you don't talk much with your classmates, you also don't get in fights with them, etc.” he listed, gesturing towards the folder.

“Okay. And…?” 

“Well, am I supposed to believe this is the profile of a kid that hates school so much, that he'll physically injure himself just to avoid classes?” He questioned, taking off his glasses dramatically as if in a movie. “It just doesn't make any sense. Especially when there are so many other, easier ways to skip class. It's just not… rational, you know?”

“...If everyone was rational, you wouldn't have half of those degrees, now would you?” He pointed out, trying to sell his excuse. “I just don't want to be in a classroom sometimes, that's all.”

“Would you prefer to be in the Child Psychiatric Unit? Because if you keep harming yourself like this, I will have to recommend you get sent back.”

His heart almost skipped at what was probably supposed to be taken as a threat.

A few weeks without having to deal with Mark? Fairly decent food? No long lines? Reliable heating?! BATHTUBS?! Yes, there was little to no privacy, a rather tight schedule, group activities, and mandated brain-poking sessions with a psychiatrist. But… rather tragically, it all sounded like a vacation at a spa!

A vacation he couldn't afford to indulge in…

If he wasn't around to take the brunt of the punishments, who knows what Mark might just do to David?

Last time he was institutionalized, he came back to find David with a cast on his arm and broken ribs from “slipping” down the stairs… If he went away again, he might come back to see him in a wheelchair-- And Cassie! Now he had to look after Cassie too! If he wasn't around, Mark might go through with his threat next time she blinks too loudly!

He needed to convince Mr. Harris that he didn’t need intervention, otherwise…

“Okay, I understand where you're getting at, Mr. Harris. Self--”

“Dr. Harris.” The man corrected.

“...I understand where you're getting at, Dr. Harris.” Adam said, feeling something in the back of his mind strain a bit closer to the point of snapping, “Self-harm is bad and… Look, Doctor, I'm not trying to kill myself, I just--”

“Want to skip class?” he interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Adam, why don't you just tell me what's really going on? This obviously isn't about skipping class.”

Adam stayed quiet for a while, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for divine guidance.

The world's rudest doctor wasn't buying it at all... He needed to come up with a new excuse, a believable excuse! Or… at least, one that he wouldn't want to dig further into. Can't catch someone in a lie if the lie makes you so… uncomfortable that you'd rather leave the day-old carcass be, instead of turning it over to see if it has worms.

But what could he say that would creep a well-trained counselor out?

“Fine. You caught me, Dr. Harris. I don't do this to skip class…” Adam bought himself time, crossing his arms and turning his head, scowling like a kid mad at being scolded. “But… I don't think you'll like to know the real reason why.”

This guy probably studied all sorts of pathologies… Whatever excuse he came up with would have to be even more out there and sickening than all of them combined.

“I think I do. Because, right now, the only reason I can see for this behavior is that you, a kid with at least one documented suicide attempt and institutionalization, are once again becoming a suicide risk.” The counselor explained the fucking obvious.

Let's see. What reason did people hurt themselves for, if not because they wanted to die? Oh, pleasure. Yeah, he hurt himself in class because he was a masochist! And… others watching added a little something to it-- No. That would definitely end with a suspension for sexual misconduct.

“…Are you sure? I don't think you do, trust me. I'm not suicidal, Doctor. Maybe you should leave at that.” Adam suggested, buying himself more time.

Oh, attention! Maybe he could say that he did it because he… wanted Mr. Jenkins's attention! Yeah, he had a huge crush on the old counselor and wanted his attention! Actually, Dr. Harris was such a hottie too; maybe he would give himself more reasons to visit him-- Sexually harassing school staff was a bad idea…

The counselor glared at him, obviously unamused with his stalling--

Adam's eyes widened a little behind his bangs as a light went off in his head.

That's it! He was a genius! Maybe… Either he was about to make this guy regret his career, or get prescribed even more Celebatepro to flush down the toilet… Either way, he wasn't going back to the spa, and that's what mattered.

Okay, concentrate. He needed to channel his inner actor and pull this off flawlessly.

Breathe in, breathe out… Showtime.

“Fine… But how should I put this? Hmmmm. I do it for… attention, I guess?” He said, pausing, feigning shame and awkwardness--

“Now, that I believe,” he interrupted his performance, clicking his tongue rudely.

Adam felt his blood slowly creeping to a boil-- DID THEY FUCKING REMOVE BASIC BEDSIDE MANNERS FROM THE CURRICULUM?! THIS FUCKING CLOWN--

Breathe in, breathe out.

He needed to stay calm… Calm, collected, and--

“Adam, if the point of these stunts is attention, why not… join the theater club? They put on shows every couple of months and attendance doesn't seem too bad; could get plenty of eyes on you that way.” He suggested with a condescending tone and smug expression that was just begging to be pummeled like playdough. “I know it wouldn't have the same shock value, but it would be way less painful. Not to mention way less traumatizing for your classmates and the staff. Have you ever stopped to think about how this affects them, Adam? Or does your need for attention trump their well-being?”

Adam paused and adjusted in his seat, enraged fists clutching the inside of his pockets, as he mentally prepared himself to get his performance back on track.

“…Nope. Guess I was too focused on trying to get dicked down to worry about them. Sorry.” He rolled his eyes.

“Sorry isn't going to cut it here, Adam. This is not kindergarten, and you're not a little kid. You're 4 years shy of being a grown man; it's about time you learn about consequences and how your actions affect others--” The definition of unprofessional and uncaring tried to reprimand him, his eyes widening a little as he finally paused his pre-packaged speech and processed what he just said. “…E-excuse me?”

Adam sighed dramatically.

“I'm in a hush-hush relationship with this guy, but he keeps taking me for granted, you know?” Adam explained, making sure he sounded as indignant as possible. “It's like that saying… Hmm… Oh. You don't know what you have until you lose it. Well, he seems to keep forgetting how good this emo femboy flat bread is, until I remind him that it's limited edition!” He elaborated, watching the man shift in his seat and finally breaking eye contact in discomfort. Just a bit more… “Like, I know he's not out like me and is scared of what might happen if his dad finds out; he's really, really homophobic and bla bla bla, so he basically ignores me in public, right? And, I mean, I understand, and I don't mind; it's a safety thing: if he gets found out, he might get into danger. But in private, it just seems like… the more my scars heal, the more he pulls away. Takes longer to answer my messages, doesn't give me as many gifts, is too busy to go on dates and… you know. But I give myself a little paper cut, and he's suddenly ready to--”

The counselor raised a hand, signaling Adam to stop his increasingly unhinged tirade with a closed fist pressed to his lips, his face looking a pale green.

Success.

He stayed quiet as the man cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, surely readying to send him out the door with some generic scolding and a “don't do it again.”

“Okay, I think I heard enough. Look, Adam… I understand that you're at an age where…” He closed his eyes and sighed, opening them to look at the window, at a loss for words, and then, resigned, “Just don't do it in class. Or in school premises in general. Both Ms. Reyes and the school could've gotten into serious trouble and-- Look, if you do this again, I'll have to recommend you get sent back. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Dr. Harris…” Adam sighed and rolled his eyes.

“…Good. You may leave.” He said, his shoulders relaxing a little as he gestured towards the door.

“…Really? Actually, since I'm here, could you give me some advice?” Adam requested, unable to resist relishing a little on torturing the clown. “I've been wanting to--”

“I am not an intimacy counselor.” He quieted him with a raised hand once again, his eyes focused not on him, but on the wall behind him. “That is something you will have to work out between yourselves; I can not help you.” He dismissed, got up, walked to the door, and opened it. “You may leave, please.”

“…Ugh, Okay.” Adam got up and one-strapped his backpack, making his way out of the room. “But how do I--”

“Goodbye!” The man banished him, closing the door in his face the moment he was on the other side of the frame.

Adam stared at the door and breathed a sigh of relief. He was free as a bird… in a forest with a feral, bloodthirsty cat… for now.

Adam grabbed his phone and breathed a sigh of exasperation. He needed to go and sign a peace treaty with the cat…

Why did Mr. Jenkins have to go?