The Bad Boys Are Back

6

"Who needs a Xanax prescription?" I asked, slightly alarmed.

"I do."

"Why don't you get it from your dealer or something?" I asked, struggling to keep the panic down.

He just shrugged. "Black market. Lower supply, higher demand. More expensive."

"How do you plan to get a Xanax prescription? You are aware that... oh God." I said, as realization dawned. "Was that what you meant when you said you liked my good acting?"

He nodded. "Come on, we don't have all day."

As we walked towards the elevator, my head brimmed with more and more questions. This whole ordeal was so... neutral evil.

"Who gets to be the anxiety patient?" I asked him.

"You. You just cried, you'd be perfect for the role. You could say you just had a panic attack."

"What role would you play?"

Finn said, "Your older brother," as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I frowned, glancing into the mirrored walls of the elevator. We didn't look like siblings at all. Where Finn was angular with a lot of metal jewellery, I felt diminutive (at best) and really... plain. Kind of nerdy too. I looked away from my reflection and pushed my glasses up.

Finn was a whole head taller than me, and today he was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and ripped jeans. When the elevator dinged, signalling its arrival at the right floor, we exited to the hustle and bustle of your typical hospital.

Before I could make my way tot he registration counter, Finn tapped on my shoulder. I jumped at the skin contact.

"I need a smoke."

I refrained from rolling my eyes as we made our way outside through the main entrance. I settled against the nearest wall, crossing my arms and watching as Finn lit a cigarette in one smooth motion.

"You want a stick?"

"No thanks."

He shrugged and left me to it. I hated smokers and I couldn't rationalize why one would willingly try to shorten their lifespan in this manner. Smoking costs a lot too.

All in all, it was an addiction with very few benefits.

When he was done inhaling his tobacco, we re-entered the hospital. After registering and getting paperwork out of the way, we were guided to the eastern wing of the hospital where psychiatric issues were handled.

All we had to do now was wait.

The waiting room was fairly empty today, I think to myself, as though I knew the size of the average crowd here. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

I felt a foreign urge to lean on Finn's shoulders. But I didn't. Because that would have been inappropriate.

I probably missed Pinhead (my cat). That must be it.

"Do you like cats?" I asked Finn, breaking the silence.

He gave me a sideways glance. "No."

"What do you like then?"

He stopped texting to stare into the distance and mull over my question. Finally, he turned to look at me.

"You're supposed to have anxiety. Act anxious." He said. I couldn't tell if he was joking, he spoke with such a straight face.

"How do I even act anxious?" I thought aloud.

He didn't bother to regale me with a response.

"This is kind of messed up, by the way." I said. "I thought you said we were gonna do something legal."