Sheraton Academy

Manic Pixie Dream Boy

Rating: PG

 Warnings: swearing, unmedicated mental illness

"You know, it's okay to cry."

Meara stubbornly shook his head. His hands fisted tight on his knees and he flinched when Danny's big but gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

"Meara —"

"No." It came out a harsh half-sob, heavy and thick. But he wasn't crying. He wasn't.

"He was a bastard, Meara," Danny whispered. "I know you loved him, but he didn't treat you right. It's better this way. You can take some time to yourself, maybe make some new friends. That's your thing."

Meara sniffled and took a sip of his coffee. The bad thing about having discussions about breakups in public: he couldn't cry. The good thing: he couldn't cry.

Things with Drake had started out great, until he realized that Meara's free-spirited attitude and high energy didn't make him like the manic pixie dream girls in the movies. He was more likely to get a detention for talking out of turn or curling up in a blanket for all day instead of going to class than take a boyfriend or girlfriend gallivanting across the countryside on an adventure. ADHD and depression weren't sexy. They were horrible and constantly got him in trouble, especially having to go unmedicated.

How can you expect me to fix your life when I can barely keep my own in order?

Meara's fingers tightened around the warm porcelain mug. The caramel brown surface of the coffee shifted when his foot knocked against the table.

You're just not who I thought you were, then, he'd said.

Danny knocked his knee against Meara's. He sat beside him rather than across at the small, circular table. Their elbows bumped, but Meara didn't pull away. He leaned closer, leaning his head on his best mate's shoulder.

"He said he loved me anyway," Meara whispered. "Even with the ADHD, and the depression, and the fact that I was unmedicated and couldn't always control my symptoms."

"He wanted to fix you," Danny said. He took Meara's hand, curling their fingers together. "But there's nothing to fix. We just need to get you to a psychiatrist. That's all."

"Now that my family's disowned me, that should be easier," Meara said. "There's nobody standing in the way, now."

"If you ever want to come back to London —"

"I can do this, Danny," Meara whispered. "I don't need to come home."

Danny sighed, then offered a weak smile. "Well, there's always a spot on my couch if you change your mind."