hazel-grace.
hazel grace raced down the long hallway.
she was late.
her very first counseling appointment, and she, the counselor, was late.
she paused outside the door, trying to smooth down her hair so that she looked somewhat close to presentable. then she sighed. her patient, whoever he/she was, didn't care how she looked. they would, however, probably care that she was fifteen minutes late.
with another sigh(she did like to sigh a lot), hazel-grace grasped the doorknob and entered the little room.
there was no one in there.
oh wait, there was.
he sat on the floor, with his back to her, staring at the wall. there were two chairs in the room, but he was sitting on the floor.
hazel-grace studied the chairs. they were nice chairs. they had wheels; she liked wheely chairs. there was nothing wrong with them, in any case. why was he sitting on the floor?
"hi," she said. he didn't turn to face her, so she walked up to him. "i'm, um, i'm hazel-grace."
never ask them to call you 'ms. superior'. for one, it makes everything seem too formal. as a counselor, you want to be their friend & guide, not a stiff piece of cardboard. second of all, it doesn't help that your last name is superior. hazel-grace superior; it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?
that was what her teacher had told her, anyway, back when she was in college. so of course, she introduced herself as "hazel-grace". because the last thing she wanted was for this client to think she had a ridiculous name.
even though he was the one who was sitting on the floor.
"i'm your counselor," hazel-grace continued. she found herself kneeling on the tile ground, so that she was even with him. as soon as she brought herself to his level, he tore his gaze from the wall, ducking his head so that curly hair fell over his face, shielding him from her. "what's your name?" she asked gently.
"pablo." the reply was short and clipped.
hazel-grace knew he was lying. she'd recieved her sheet of appointments this morning, and there was no "pablo" even registered in the clinic's list.
"okay," she said, even though it wasn't really. why was he lying to her? "it's nice to meet you, pablo. why don't you come sit in these chairs, so we can start your appointment? i'm here to help you."
he was quiet for a long moment. then he looked up at her. "my name's not pablo."
"i know."
he squinted. "what makes you think you can help me?"
"i'm a counselor. it's my job." or it is now, anyway. hazel-grace decided not to tell him this was her first counseling session. she doubted that would be very reassuring for him to hear.
"i've heard that before."
"oh."
"they were lying."
"oh."
"none of them helped me."
"oh."
a puzzled frown. "you don't say much."
she gave him a small smile. her knees were starting to hurt from bowing on the hard floor. why couldn't she at least get a client who didn't mind sitting in chairs? "i'm not here to talk, i'm here to listen."
"yeah, my mom said that too. only not about my singing. no one likes to listen to my singing."
frowning, hazel-grace furrowed her brow as she tried to keep up with his words. was he joking? she decided he was, and forced a little chuckle. "i'm sure you can sing very well."
"don't be so sure of anything about me."
"maybe once i know you a little better?"
the-boy-who-was-pablo-but-wasn't-really gave her a dark look. "i don't want you to know me better."
"let's sit in chairs," hazel-grace blurted, ignoring his words.
"let's not."
silence.
then, "what is it then?"
he blinked at her. "what?"
she felt accomplished for having confused him, too. "your name. what is it?"
"not-pablo."
"oh."
finally, he looked up at her. his curly brown hair drifted away from his face, and she saw that his eyes were green.
really, really green.
"it's harry."
i fail at writing, wow.
dedicated to @perksofbeingaweirdo because she's seriously an amazing writer & an all around lovely person to talk to, and wow, i just love her lots, okay?
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