Oh, Mis[s]Believer || H2ØVånøšš

chapter one

Evan

"Hello, Mister...Jonathan?" I asked, sitting down at my old desk at my old job.
"Hi." Was all he said.
"So I've heard that you just got released from the Meadows a little under a week ago?" I asked.
He looked at me with frozen blue eyes and nodded.
"You don't talk much?" I asked, cocking a brow.
He shook his head.
"Anxiety, sir."
I nodded.
"So, you have a majority different cases of mental health." I tried to word it politely.
"You mean, I'm insane? Yes." He laughed lightly and put his hand the table.
I shook my head.
"Jonathan, you are not crazy, nor insane. You are just unique. You were born an unfortunate person. We all struggle, to put it in the nicest way possible."
He nodded.
"Thanks for putting it lightly, Evan. I can call you that. Right?" He asked, looking down, avoiding my eyes.
I nodded.
"Call me whatever you want. What do you go by?" I asked.
"Jon, Jay, Jonathan, Delirious. That's what the boys call me, is Delirious." He looked directly into my eyes and I froze.
Then he looked back down.
"Delirious?" I asked.
"Yeah. It's from my g-" He paused.
"It's just, a nickname."
"What's it from?" I asked him.
He hesitated and looked at me in the eyes, anxious as hell.

Jonathan

"What's it from?" His chocolate dipped pupils dilated slightly as they turned to my face.
He reminded me of a cookie.
He seemed warm and gooey, like a family kinda guy. Loving, caring. Compassionate, sympathetic.

Disgusting.

Purely the opposite of me, I couldn't ever imagine having a stupid ass smile on my face like the one he was bearing now.
Damn fool, I tell you.
The hard cold truth? I didn't want to be here.
I didn't want to be in this room, in this hospital, in this situation, or even in this goddamn world.
Jonathan Xavier Smith had grew tired of living a long time ago.
And when I finally had my chance, my one opportunity to kill myself, it had slipped through my fingers. I had stumbled like a fucking idiot.
But I couldn't say that, of course not. I was in a hospital room, interviewing with some random ass therapist I didn't know. If this wouldn't have been required by the Meadows, I would've been out with Tyler, shooting in my backyard.
My parents were never notified where I had been going, but it wasn't like they'd ever care anyway.
I cursed at myself when he opened the window, letting all the bright, disgusting sunshine through.
It was incredibly warm and it heated up my arm, and before the sleeve could possibly slip down too far, I hurriedly pulled it back up.
What lied underneath this cloth would always be a secret.
He then pulled out a timer, a small little black plastic clock and sat it on the table.
I growled and stood up, taking it in hand and throwing it out the window, hearing the plastic shatter on the outside concrete.
The man sat there, perfectly calm.
He got up and closed the window.
"So, you avoided my question." He said.
"Because it's a stupid question." I sat back down, mumbling.
"How is it stupid, Jon? All I want to know is where you got that nickname from." He smiled, calmly, his lips pulling up in the corners.
God, he was so happy it made me sick.
It warmed my insides and made my stomach churn.
"You'd think it was dumb." I said.
"No, I promise I wouldn't." He said.
"If I tell you, would you shut up about it?" I hissed.
He grinned and nodded.
"It's my gamer tag. I'm a gamer." I said.
He looked at me, tilting a brow.
"How was that dumb?"
I shrugged.
"Video games are good coping skills, you know." He said.
"I don't use them to cope. I use then because they're fun to play. They don't help me feel any worse, they're just distractive from situations." I rolled my eyes.
He laughed.
"Using it to distract you is a coping skill."
I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair.
God, my wrists itched, I wish I could just go home to cut them already.
What the hell was so wrong about doing what I wanted with my own body?
"What other coping skills do you have?" He asked.
"You mean things that make me feel better?"  I asked, cocking my head.
He nodded once.
"Well, alcohol. Drugs. Tattoos. Piercings. Self harm. Video games. Movies. Shooting. And God, I love sex." I admitted, trying to keep my cheeks from becoming pink.
"Who's the lucky girl?" He teased.
There it goes.
My face turned completely red and I grew very hot.
"Uhhhhh... Well..."
"Don't be afraid. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. Patient confidentiality." He promised.
"Well, Fong, I... uh. Well. I don't have sex with girls." I admitted.
He didn't even flinch. He didn't look surprised at all.
"So who's the lucky guy?" He asked.
"I'm not dating anyone, to be honest. Really, I have the habit of getting... around." I sighed.
He nodded.
"Professionally or for sport?" He asked.
"No, not professionally. I'm not a prostitute. Used to be a stripper though." I said, trying to hide my face.
Before I had scars.
I had one hell of a body.
I still do. I have a slight trace of abs, a nice bit of muscle. I have a really nice ass.
Body positivity, right?
In fact, I still obsess over myself.
I constantly exercise and rarely eat.
I'm not concerned with weight too much, although I know what bit I am is unhealthy.
"I bet you did good at your job." He said.
I looked up at him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound so... I'm just trying to encourage you, is all." He assured.
I nodded and looked back down.
"So, a huge part of my job is getting to know you. I don't want to be your therapist, I want to be your friend." He said.
"Got it." I giggled.
"So, let's get to know each other." He smiled.
" 'Kay." I nodded.
"So, let's start by describing ourselves. My name's Evan, I'm 23 years old, I work in the psychological field, I like going to the beach, watching Netflix with my wife, and cooking. You?" He smiled.
I sighed.
"My name's Jonathan, I'm 17 years old, I worked as a male stripper, I like having sex and getting tattoos, and all I do all day is sit on my bed all day being a horny teenager and either jerking off or playing video games."
He raised his eyebrows at the last part and laughed silently.
"Well, Jonathan, it was nice to meet you."
I nodded.
"You too, Evan."
"Well, our time is up. So I'll see you next time?" He asked.
I nodded.
He smiled.
"Goodbye Jonathan."

"Bye Evan."

I walked out of the office and called Tyler. He wouldn't answer.
I cussed and started walking home.
I called him maybe fifteen times while walking down the street until he finally picked up. 
"Ello?" He asked.
"Tyler. Get the fuck over here and pick me up." I said.
He groaned through the phone.
"Dude, I'm hanging out with Craig. He's going to Florida this weekend, why won't you let me spend time with my other friends for once?"
"Because I'm your fucking only best friend and you agreed to help me with everything since the damn moment I got kicked out." I said.
He groaned again. "Be over in a second."

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up right beside me and I jumped on the passenger side.
"Hey dickhead." He said, driving off.
"I'm a sexy dickhead, get it right." I said.
"Whatever." He said.
He pulled up into a Sonic.
"What the hell?" I asked.
"I'm hungry. Plus some hot girls work here. There's a new girl that is just now learning how to skate, so sometimes when she's on the way to the bathroom for a break, she'll fall and you get a peek of what's under her skirt." He laughed and punched my shoulder.
"Ew, Tyler." I rolled my eyes.
"Just saying. Hey, there's a girl. She's gonna take our order."
He said.
She skated over and took our order, winking at me when she was done.
"See? Del, you can easily get a girl like that." He said, shaking his head at me.
"Naw, that's more of my style."
I pointed to a darker skinned male on roller skates with his black hair decently done.
Tyler rolled his eyes.
"You're so gay, Jon."
I nodded.
"I know."
"By the way, we're going to Leslie's birthday bash. She's got all kinds of alcohol and drugs in her house.
"K." I said.
"It's gonna be epic."
"So, let's pick up some things on the way." I said.
"What do you mean?" He looked at me.
"Duh, we might need condoms, dumbass." I said, punching his shoulder.
He nodded.
"I mean, I would. But you can't get pregnant nor anyone else pregnant. You're gay. So what's it to you?" He asked.
"Hey, I may be a whore, but I still use protection from STDs man. I ain't that nasty." I joked.

//// 8 HOURS LATER \\\\

Evan

I sat there, on my couch, looking at the TV.
And then he randomly popped up in my head.
That new patient.
I looked at the clock.
It's eleven.
I wonder what he was doing.

Jonathan

"Fuck." He moaned when I kissed his neck.
This guy was vocal.
I don't remember his name, I don't remember what happened, all I knew was that I was having sex with yet another random stranger tonight.
His ass was grinding onto my dick through my boxers, and I started to grow very hard.
I pulled his head back by pulling his hair and grinding into his ass, his bulge being pushed into the bed due to me being on top of him.
"Oh yeah~" He said, biting his lip.
I pulled his pants down roughly, watching his dick spring out.
That's where the pre cum started forming, that's where I lost my mind.
That's where my depression disappeared.
And that's where thinking about Evan started.