Echoes of Silence (L.S.)

DERANGED.

Dr. Payne wasn't terrible, but he wasn't someone that Louis looked forward to seeing. He was far too collected, robotic, and kind to be real.

Louis genuinely believed that he feigned his good character to gain the trust of his patients. Well, it wasn't going to work for him.

When he first entered the office that he dreaded, the man was standing near his desk, sporting an expensive-looking, buttoned shirt and sipping on coffee.

The top was looking extremely tight, especially around his muscular arms. Louis was astounded at how incredibly physically fit Dr. Payne was, and he was simply shocked at how often his muscles twitched beneath the thin fabric.

Harry's very fit, too. My lanky man, Louis had to remind himself. He imagined Harry seated next to him, pressing his firm hand against Louis's thigh, like he always did. 

"So, how has your day been?" the man flashed him a dazzling grin, showing off his pearly whites. He leaned back into his office chair while Louis seated himself on the couch, folding his hands in his lap. 

"Well, it's barely started. I just had some breakfast," he replied, trying to avoid locking eyes with the deep brown irises. 

"Who did you eat with?" his brain-expanding question seemed rather pointless. Louis had learned long ago that most counselors could not help for shit, and they were just interrogating people to earn money. 

"Well, a couple friends, my father, and my . . . Harry." his cheeks were heating the longer he spoke. Firstly, he was a bit mortified to mention that he was in the same place as his father. It wasn't often that you got a family of crazy in the loony bin. 

Secondly, Harry. 

How could he possibly describe Harry? His lover, he knew. Couldn't he get in trouble for having sexual relations with a man like Harry? Another patient?

"Wow. That's quite a group," Dr. Payne jotted down something in his notebook, furrowing his brows and tilting his head back up. "So your father is here as well." 

"I suppose the crazy was passed onto me, too." Louis remarked, giving a dry, humorless chuckle as he stared at the chewed cuticles of his nails. 

"Now, Louis. We don't call it crazy." the counselor scolded in his rich, warm voice, pressing a pen behind his ear before scratching at his beard. "How would you describe your relationship with your father?" 

In his mind, it was as though he had to take out large storage bins hidden in the attic of his medial temporal lobe to delve into past memories of he and his father. 

"Now, it's like I'm talking to a handicapped man. Except rather than his body being impaired, it's his sanity. I must be careful with my words." Louis frowned, suddenly realizing that Dr. Payne had obliquely gotten him to speak. 

Clever man, he was. 

After scribbling something onto his paper, Dr. Payne glanced up at him and chewed at the tip of his pen, muscles flexing to be seen from beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

"What about before? How old were you when he was put in St. James?" his features showed what appeared to be genuine curiosity, and possibly concern. 

"I dunno. Eight," he tried to brush off the subject, as though it were unimportant, but the day his father left was vivid in his mind still. 

"Do you believe that not having a prominent fatherly role in your life has affected your perspective on men as a whole?" This was the grand question, elaborately worded and softly spoken to bring Louis to a halt.