Among Us (boyxboy) [ON HOLD]

Part 3: Chapter 51 - The Real Problem

Duncan

This is probably really hard for you. No, I know this is hard for you, on you. You've never deserved this. And I know I say this every time I write to you, but I am sorry. So sorry.

I do not even know if you even want these letters. Are you annoyed by this? Are you annoyed by me being this ... clingy, for lack of a better word. Are you annoyed that you have no way of writing back? If so, again, I can only say I am sorry.

All of this I wanted to tell you in person, but I never did do it in the end.

Instead, I write to you. I want to tell you about me. If it is true that you would rather not know, I can do no different than to accept that decision. Feel free to ignore these.

I hope that when we do meet again that we may have another normal moment together.

"How have the last few days been, Mr Lewis?"

As always, he wouldn't look at me when he asked me. Instead, he made some more notes in his little black booklet and hitched up his glasses. Only when I didn't answer his head slightly rose, eyes looking at me from under raised eyebrows, a silent urging translating to me.

"Good." My answer was always the same. There was no way to answer differently. Not if I wanted to leave at the agreed time.

He obviously was not pleased with my answer, but then again he rarely was anyway.

"What plans have you got for the rest of the week, then?" He looked at me this time, presumably to gauge my reaction. He, and everyone else, knew exactly what I did the rest of the week. I had my schedule. One I hadn't had a part in devising, but a schedule none the less.

"I'm meeting Oliver tomorrow. The day after we have a family day." I almost snorted at that, but much like the never changing answers I had gotten used to reigning in my reactions. 'Family day' consisted of my mother taking her time to do the same thing Dr Wamsley was trying to do three times every week. Neither of them really succeeded.

After that he asked me some more repetitive questions that he asked every time and were absolutely pointless by now.

It was after he had offered me a drink, which I always refused, that I knew the hard part would start. It was the same thing each time. He was trying to make me feel relaxed and comfortable before it came to the difficult stuff.

"We've been working together for a good four weeks now. How do you feel you have progressed?"

"I think I'm doing well." I had long since given up on insisting that there was no way for me to make progress because there was nothing wrong with me.

He nodded thoughtfully, put some more notes down and then presumably contemplated his next question. I assumed it was all more or less a charade and that he had already prepared all the questions he'd wanted to ask me.

"Where do you think we should go from here?" I wasn't sure what he wanted to hear from me. I didn't know where to go from here, I had no need to go anywhere.

So I shrugged.

"I don't know." Sometimes, being honest wasn't the worst thing one could do. The worst thing for me to do would have been to insist I was alright.

Again, just a thoughtful nod accompanied by a few notes was what I got in return.

"And what do you think your goals are? What do you ultimately want to gain from these sessions?"