Posh Kids (Gen. 4)

Nash

"So, you think you're going insane?" asked the therapist, clicking her pen repeatedly and narrowing her icy blue eyes at me. I nodded, then diverted my attention to the ground, watching my sneakers thump on the ground.

"According to these documents, your condition is not genetic. However, based on your age, something like this can happen," she continued, trying to get my attention.

"Oh. That's nice," I said, lifting my gaze from the ground, and making eye contact with her. She gulped, and blinked as if something were in her eye.

"What's your trigger?"

"What?"

"The reason that you've declared yourself insane."

"Madeleine. She headfucked me one too many times, and I can't get rid of this thing," I said, putting my hands to my head.

"Describe what this thing feels like."

"Its in my head. I can't think about anything but her. No matter how much I try. I can't even describe the feeling," I said, taking a gulp of air.

"You're not. You're lovesick. This girl, if anything, is doing you a favor."

"How? She's fucked me up."

"No. She's making you feel emotion. Now, you have to make her feel something," said the therapist, who compared to me, was sitting as upright as a stiff board. She gave me a nod, and I stood up, walking out of the front door. As I walked out, a slight figure wearing a backwards baseball cap had a spliff in his fingers, his foot against the wall. Dark brown curls spilled out of his cap, and a sneer curled onto his lips.

"Hey! Do you have any more spliff," I said, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. For some reason, I felt spontaneous, and I didn't mind buying drugs out in broad daylight.

"Not for you. You just walked out of the loony bin. This shit makes you unstable when you're perfectly stable. So no, mate. You're fucking weird and all, but we're still mates," said Harper, who had smoke coming out of his nose.
After standing next to him in awkward silence for a few minutes, I started walking towards an empty park, down the road. Except for a small lump of gray, the lush green grasses were devoid of life. As I got closer to the object, I realized that the lump was a person, and one I knew. A dull gray hood covered his face, even though the wisps of black hair and the glasses frames pushing from the hole gave his identity away.

"Reid?" I asked, trying to get his attention. He turned to face me, revealing his sad blue eyes.

"I know you're trying to hide," I said, sitting next to him. I put my knees to my chest, and reached my arm towards him to knock the hood off his head.

"Fuck off," he muttered, leaning his head downward. His jet black hair hid his facial expression, until he heard the rustling of a cigarette pack in my pocket. I pulled it out, along with my lighter, and produced two cigarettes. He grabbed one, and I lit his and mine. As if we were in sync, we brought the cigarettes to our lips, and took a drag.

"What's wrong, mate?" I asked, watching him narrow his eyes. Reid's body fell back, and something fell out of his pocket. I picked up the object, to find a picture of Madeleine.

"I like her, you know? She likes me. But, she loves you. Go find her, now," said Reid, his eyes focused on the sky.