Requiem [COMPLETED]

I'm an Adult, I'll be self-destructive if I want to (nah-nah-nah)

Sven's behavior had been deteriorating for months since the gay bar debacle. His temper was ungovernable afterwards, which had coincided with increasing consumption of alcohol and him picking up smoking. He'd tried his first cigarette a couple years ago, as far as I knew, but the last five months it had become more than social. He'd lost weight and the circles under his eyes were near-permanent bruises denoting how often he partied between work and school.

Sven sat down in his 7am psychology discussion section looking like the undead, and the first thing he did was pour a monster energy drink and a 5 hour energy into his espresso shots he'd gotten in an extra-large cup. "I'm going to die," he said calmly in response to stares from classmates, rubbing his eyes, and then chugged half of it right before the professor walked in.

"Epic," Seamus whispered, half in awe and half concerned. John looked on in silence, his eyes wide with either worry or fear.

At the end of class John sidled over to Sven as people filtered out.

"Hey man—"

"Sven." The professor caught his eye as everyone was shuffling out of class and he followed her over to the podium where she went to tidy up. John shrugged at Sven and left with Seamus. "Sven, we've had several classes together now, haven't we?"

"Yeah, this is my fourth course with you."

"Sven I was wondering if you'd be interested in participating in a study. It's about, basically, how are brains are wired differently, across a spectrum—"

"Is this a nice way of asking if I'm a sociopath?"

She grinned. "No, I know you're far from that. It's just that I feel like you have an interesting perspective on the world, and I think that...how you think and perceive...would be incredibly useful for my grad student to gain more variety in her study. You can absolutely say no, there's no pressure to participate; I just immediately thought of you and a couple other students when my grad student started working at the counseling center at the beginning of the semester. It's not actually counseling you'd be doing though; quite far from it. If you're interested, it would take a couple hours one day, that's it, just a one-off talking one-on-one and a bit of short-answer writing. Take time to think about it and if you're interested just let me know next week," she smiled.

"So this person just wants to...get to know me? Or interview me?"

"An interview is one way of putting it. Don't be nervous, it's not like you'll be getting tested or could answer wrong."

When Sven told me about it later I asked why he was hesitating; I would have been flattered if a professor 'immediately thought of you' to participate in something. He shrugged, struggling for words. A few minutes later, when my mind had already moved on from the subject, he said, "It's all fun and games until someone figures out the function of your behavior."

I don't even pretend to understand this weird secretiveness he has.

Later I came back, determined to broach the subject I'd really been thinking about all day. Seeing him wrecked heading to school made me realize I couldn't ignore his behavior anymore. It was starting to scare me at times.

"You're out partying a lot."

"Hmm." He clearly didn't want to talk; I persisted in what quickly turned out to be another battle I couldn't win. He was watching something.

"I was just wondering if anything—if everything's okay—or if something's been bugging you..."

"I'm fine." He kept his eyes glued to the tv, chain smoking out the window despite the below-zero temperature. I realized he was fast forwarding through a movie.