Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[17]

"Rut."

- - 

Sloan

"Tim." I repeat, the name lingering in the air between us.

The pale man across from me stares back with bewildered, weary eyes, as though he's struggling to keep himself tethered to the present moment. He mumbles an apology, his voice thin and strained. I assure him it's no big deal.

I know that feeling too well.

The nineteen-year-old aerospace engineering undergrad looks down at his hands, fiddling with his cuticles. His fingers tremble slightly, and I watch as the skin begins to break, a small bead of blood forming where he's picked too hard.

"I'm sorry I'm so nervous." he exhales shakily, his words faltering in the air. "I've never had therapy before."

"Will it make you feel less nervous if I told you you're my first case?" I offer, a soft smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Really?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You seem so... cool. Composed. You definitely have your shit together more than I do."

Oh, trust me, I don't. I have yet to figure out how to piece together my own mess.

I let out a light laugh, and he visibly relaxes, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Our shared vulnerability seems to create an unspoken bridge between us, even if just for a moment.

"Really." I affirm. "This is new for me, too. If you'd like, we could go through this together. Therapy can be strange at first, so if at any point you feel like stopping, we stop." I offer him a reassuring nod, my eyes softening.

He hesitates for a moment, then nods reluctantly, his hands still twitching at his sides.

"So." I shift the conversation, redirecting his attention. "What happened in class?"

He exhales, his chest rising and falling with the effort. "I was trying to solve this equation. It all happened so fast, my chest started to hurt, and I felt like I was going to drop dead right there in front of everyone."

"What kind of equation?" I ask, curiosity piqued.

Tim gives me a bemused look, as if silently questioning what I could possibly know about the complex inner workings of physics.

"Try me." I challenge, leaning back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest.

He seems to deliberate for a moment, before finally responding with a quiet, determined air. "The Maxwell-Faraday equation. Law of induction. It describes how a spatially varying—and possibly time-varying, depending on how a magnetic field changes in time—electric field always accompanies a time-varying magnetic field."

I raise an eyebrow, the foreign words settling uncomfortably in the space between us. "You were right, I didn't get a thing." I confess with a wry smile.

He chuckles softly, shifting in his seat, his shoulders finally loosening up.

A deep breath escapes his lips, and his chest deflates, the weight of the conversation, and perhaps his nerves, lessening just a fraction.

*

"Thank you." Tim says, his voice quieter now, tinged with gratitude that makes my insides warm. 

"Don't mention it. I'm happy you're feeling better already."

"I know what you did back there." he adds, glancing up at me with a knowing look. "With the equation."

I raise an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."