She Will Always Hate Me

iii: wore like a crown

This chapter is edited.
WARNING:
This story deals with some heavy topics i.e. mental health, depression, mentions of suicide, physical abuse, as well as eating disorders. Please read at your own risk.

At his next session, Dipper was convinced that Dr. Southeast had taken the few days to do some research on him. It wasn't surprising, the doctor probably wanted to be on even ground, and when Dipper laid out his entire life at their first meeting, he set the high-ground.

Perhaps he was right in assuming that Dr. Southeast wouldn't be boring. However, maybe that would make getting to him that much harder.

"Alright, doctor," Dipper announced as he sauntered into Dr. Southeast's office on the last Friday of April, "you've had quite a few days to perform your own research; what is your diagnosis?"

Dr. Southeast simply stared at him for a moment or two before he cleared his throat. "A few days isn't enough time to come to a proper diagnosis."

Dipper feigned a bored look, it was to cover up the actual genuine surprise that crossed his face. "Really? I'm disappointed, Preston, I thought you weren't boring."

"Implying that I'm 'boring' won't get to me, if that's your intention, Mason." Dr. Southeast replied evenly.

Now, Dipper was an expert on concealing how he truly felt, but hearing someone call him 'Mason' rubbed him all the wrong way. The one thing that would coerce a true reaction out of him, and he hated it.

His carefree smirk, that he wore like a crown, faltered, slipping into a frown.

Dr. Southeast must've noticed, because he immediately prodded. "Is something the matter, Mason?"

"My name isn't 'Mason'." Dipper sneered. "Calling me by my family name would suggest that I have a pleasant relationship with them."

Dr. Southeast's posture straightened even more, if that was even possible with the way that man was sitting, and his hand was instantly moving, scrawling something messily on his notepad.

Dipper had gone through this routine over a million times; he knew exactly what that doctor had written out without having to see it. And just like that, he shrugged off his icy persona and burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh, yes, I've heard that one many times before."

Dr. Southeast dropped his pen and squinted at Dipper. "I didn't say anything." His brows bunched up in confusion.

"You didn't have to." Dipper leaned forward ever-so-slightly, causing a shift in the air. "Your facial expression paired with what I previously said tells all; doesn't have a strong relationship with his family, possible reason for why he lashes out?"

Dr. Southeast glanced down at his notepad, and from the look on his face, Dipper hit the nail right on the head.

"Oh! This is wonderful!" Dipper exclaimed, jumping out of his chair so suddenly that Dr. Southeast flinched. "You've made a breakthrough, doctor! This calls for a celebration! Non più andrai, farfallone amoroso. Notte e—"

"Mason," Dr. Southeast warned, brows overly furrowed in what Dipper would call an overreaction, but to each his own.

"I request that you do not call me that name." Dipper repeated, the thought of being called that sent an itch across his neck.