BRANCE + RINNEY

group therapy pt 2

"Group therapy, again?"

Vance ran his hands over his face, groaning in annoyance. Finney leaned his head on his shoulder, stood on the tips of his toes in order to scan over the paper the older boy was holding.

"I don't want to." Vance pushed the younger boy away from him, rolling his eyes. "No one does shithead. But it's not our choice."

Robin sat sprawled on a dark red sofa beside the two boys, rolling a pebble in his palm with a frown. "Don't break on me buddy, okay?" He put his lips near the small rock, whispering.

Vance looked at the boy, shaking his head.

"Fucking hell. Anyone know where Bruce is?"

Robin sat up, pointing to the bathroom. Vance nodded his head, still eyeing the boy weirdly. Finney walked towards where Bruce was, rapping his knuckles against the wooden door shielding the other boy away.

"B, we gotta go to group therapy again. Hurry up." Finney stood a foot away from the door, bouncing on his heels. "Okay hold on." Bruce's voice was muffled under the sound of faucet water.

Of course, he had been washing that damned potato sack.

"You fuckheads better not make a problem when we get there. Okay?" Vance twirled his car keys around his index finger, pointing at the three boys who were now in front of him slipping on their shoes.

"Whatever Vancey."

"Shut up Finn."

"This is why I'm sui-

"Shut the fuck up!"
—

Bruce cradled the potato sack, Mr. Bob as he called it, close to his chest. The therapy chairs were uncomfortable, cold enough to gain hyperthermia from.

Finney sat next to him, his legs crossed as he held his chin in the palm of his hand.

Robin was sat between Finney and Vance, still holding onto his pebble from earlier.

"So, what's going on you guys?"

The therapist seemed to be quite young, a smile splayed over his lips as he spoke. He had thick glasses on, ones that made his eyes look bigger than normal. He wore casual clothes, wrinkles present in the shirt tucked beneath his jacket.

He had to have just graduated out of high school.

"Nothing. Can we go?" Vance rubbed a finger over his knuckles, having bruised them earlier that week when he punched his fist into a convenience store window. Thankfully, the cops hadn't been called on him.

"No, you're having to stay here until our session is complete. What's your name?" The therapist smiled at Vance, tensing when the boy glared at him. "Vance, shouldn't that be on a file or something."

The therapist clicked his tongue, looking down at a stack of papers sat on top of his desk.

"Well, I'm Aaron. Uh, what's your name? Wait, let me guess. Finney?" The therapist nodded his head at Bruce, grinning wide.

Bruce clutched his potato sack closer, eyes shining with confusion and nervous tears.

"He's Bruce. I'm Finney. Say, do you know if jumping off of a fifty story building would cause immediate death? Hypothetically speaking, of course."

Vance turned to Finney slowly, eyes narrowed. Finney raised his hands, leaning back in his chair.

"Skipping past that, sorry Bruce. Uh, so you're Robin? Could you explain what's going on with you?" The therapist nodded at Robin, eyes shining with worry when the boy held up his pebble.

"This is my best friend, aside from these three. I'm hoping he doesn't die soon. I'm afraid I've become quite attached to him Aaron."

The therapist cleared his throat, leaning back as he rubbed between his eyes.

"No, no I don't think this job is cut out for me."

Vance stood up from his chair, crossing his arms as he eyed his three friends.

"You goddamn fuckheads. What was the one rule I said?"

"Not to make problems."

The therapist stood from his chair as well, trying to calm Vance.

"Listen, I don't think

Vance turned around slowly, arms still crossed as he leaned close to the therapist.

"I haven't even started with you, Aaron."
—

Unfortunately, much like the last therapist the boys had, this one quit the same day.

He was seen running to his car, his clothes in disarray as tears streamed down his face quickly.

Camera footage caught nothing that happened that day, only Vance flicking off the staff members.