The Silence Of Metawin.

Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying

"Pardon me," said Win, reaching for his phone. "Hello?"

Bright strained his ears to hear the reply, but to no avail. But it wasn't like he didn't already know who it was anyway. He could feel his skin begin to heat up.

"Listen, Third- What? Honey, I can't understand you. You're slurring your words and- Wait, are you drunk?" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, okay. Tell me where you are."

Bright could feel his sweet Win about to be taken from him once more, and he cursed himself for not eating him while he had the chance.

But wait- who said he couldn't? Once he finished his phone call, perhaps an early breakfast was in order...

"Yeah, I'm at Dr. Vachirawit house (*sad cannibal noises*) but I'll be over in a second. Okay? Okay. Yeah, love you too." Well, he certainly couldn't eat him now, not with that theatrical brat knowing he was last seen here.

"Well, uh," he became fidgety again, a tick that had disappeared the entire night but had now returned immediately after his phone call. Interesting. "I, um, gotta go." He scratched the back of his neck and looked at his shoes, looking uncomfortable to stay any longer but not making any effort to leave, either.

"Well, I'll see you out." He was sick of the tense silence and needed Win out of his sight before he got impulsive. "See you at our next session."

"Right, right," he walked out the door and turned back around. "Thank you again," he looked up to meet his eyes, "For everything."

Bright couldn't help but smile. This kid was going to be the death of him, constantly making him jealous and angry, or protective and happy, and raising his blood pressure all the while.

"I hope you remember the talk we had earlier. About Mr. Pattranite."

"Yeah," Win smiled back, "Yeah I do."

And after watching him get into his car and drive away, both men felt confident.

Win confident he had inferred that he and Third needed to sit down for a long talk to clear up any misunderstandings.

Bright confident that he had implied that Win needed to break up with Third, and the sooner the better.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. His life around him was ever changing, slowly but surely overwhelming him with that intoxicated, disconnected feeling that only life could provide.

One of his new dog turned out to already have been pregnant before he was able to spray her, so she birthed a litter of puppies and everything seemed to be right in the world.

Third told him that it would be a bad financial choice to keep all of the puppies himself, however, and he was right, of course. Third had always proved to be a sort of reality check for Win, in that way.

He sold the puppies and got a hefty amount of cash. Half of which went to bills, a small portion going to Win's stomach, and the rest being spent on 'fashionable' clothes, per Third's request.

Bright, with his razor sharp perception, deduced immediately that he had bought an entire new wardrobe from merely seeing Win wear one new shirt and a new pair of pants at one of their sessions. He was also right in thinking that it had been Third's idea.

"Why do you let him control you?"

"I make my own decisions," was the non-answer he had given. Bright seemed extremely unconvinced, but he didn't push for more information and Win didn't offer, and it was this kind of respect for privacy that he was ever so thankful for from his psychiatrist, the one person who actually needed to know more about him. The amount that Win wasn't telling him was ridiculous in proportion to how much trust they had built between each other, but it took serious time and effort to win over Win's trust.