Off One's Rocker - Lashton

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

-

"I miss him like crazy and I don't know why" the boy sighed. His depressed-looking face held up by his two freakishly large hands, stared with heart struck eyes at his therapist.

Giving the boy a pitiful smile, not expecting this to be the opening line to their weekly therapy session. Usually, they started with a chirpy joke or angry insult. But today his voice was quiet and somewhat broken. But isn't that what love does to you?

"Who's this him we're talking about?" Sid asked opening one of his oldest patients folders to write down this new emotion the boy had to offer. One that was often hidden and barely expressed.

"Luke," Ashton confessed his lips curling up slightly at the thought of the boy. "Luke," he muttered again a sadness entering his tone once again once realisations hit him.

"The anorexic boy?" Sid checked, not quite sure if the name matched the boy he was thinking of. He knew it was unprofessional to call a patient by their disorder, however, how else was he supposed to establish the boy without it taking all day.

"Don't call him that," the curly-haired boy snapped defensively. It was the truth, and Ashton knew that, but Ashton would never want to be called the bipolar boy. Why put a label on someone?

"Sorry," the fifty-year-old apologised. "Do you like him?" the therapist asked watching the boys expression.

They'd had the talk before about Ashton's sexuality. Instantly the curly-haired boy confessed he liked boys. And boys only. But he refused to be gay because Ashton hates labels. So whoever he meets is told that he is a boy who likes boys. Simple as.

Sid accepted his patient's sexuality, he had to plus it was none of his business. But the confession made his and Ashton's relationship different.

The boy never liked talking to people about himself or his problems. That's sort of how he got himself in this place anyway...

-

... "It's just a teenage phase mum," the fourteen-year-old boy promised his mother after he trashed his room. His bedsheets torn to shreds. Most things were smashed and broken. And his hand bleeding with a shard of glass in.

Hence why he and his mother were sat in their car driving to their local hospital.

"It's not normal for teenagers to get angry and trash their room like you did, what made you so angry?" his mother shot back knowing how teenagers.

"Nothing," Ashton said turning away from his mother so he was looking out of the window.

"Ashton that wasn't nothing. What made you angry?" she said the last part slowly, frustration and concern filling her tone.

Sighing the curly-haired fourteen years old admitted. "I - it - I don't know."

"Something had to have happened to make you smash your fist into your mirror. You came home from school all happy and full of life. And then... Snap, you're like the Hulk."

"That's the thing mum, I don't know what made me angry. It literally just came out of nowhere."

The car was silent except the engine of the old car which dragged the occupants towards the hospital. The curly-haired boy's hand was stoning and there was a shard of glass sticking out of it with crimson red blood surrounding it.

They were both thinking. Ashton thinking about how terrible hormones were. Whilst his mother pondered on the fact that maybe there was something wrong with her son. But honestly who wants a child with problems, therefore, she also decided on the hormone option.