Disciple (Sal x Travis)

Psychosymatic

Travis
"Have you had a good week, Travis?"

"It's been fine." I sat in the uncomfortable leather chair, stared at my hands folded my lap.

"What are some good things that have happened?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, I avoid the question, "How much longer?"

My therapist looks at her watch, "Fourty-five minutes."

I exhale loudly and slouch back in the seat, folding my arms over my chest, "Why am I here."

She smiles sympathetically and leans forward a little, "You haven't been taking your medication, and your hand?" She gestures to my left hand, all bandaged up.

"I already told you I fell.." I mumbled.

She doesnt say anything for a while, and finally hands me a sheet of paper.

"Go through these questions for me," she instructs, "answer them out loud."

I grimace and look over the sheet, "Favorite color?" I look at her, "Seriously?"

She nods, "Serious as ever.."

"Fine.." I sit and think for a minute, "Blue."

She grins a little, "I thought it was purple?"

"Huh?" I feel my cheeks get red.

My therapist shuffles through her clipboard and slides me another paper, the same sheet but filled out from me about a month or two ago.

Sure enough i wrote my favorite color, purple. Its always been my favorite color..

"Why the sudden change?" She clicks her pen.

"I..I dont know.. things change."

I feel my face get warm as I think, blue.

Blue.

Blue pigtails, blue eyes. A short, dainty boy. Emphasis on boy. He paints his nails, which makes him even more unique. Dark clothes, always. Hes so different from me.

He's confident, and he sticks up for himself.. yet hes so small and I feel like I should protect him.

I couldnt do that, though, no way.

"Travis?" My thoughts are interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Did anything good happen this week?"

I ponder our moment in the bathroom, where he held my hand.

"Uh.. yeah. I'd rather not talk about it, though." I smile a little, and she smiles back.

Sal
"What an asshole, Sal." Larry says.

"I know, I was just trying to help him, the dude was pratically bleeding out, man." I laugh a little and sit up from the beanbag chair, "What are you drawing?"
I asked.

Larry grins and turns his sketchbook around to show off a drawing of a naked girl with nipple piercings.

I make a face and groan, "Dude, come on."

He laughs and goes back to sketching, "Dont be gay. They're titties!"

"Not my type, man." I roll my eye.