The Monsters We've Created

They sat across from each other, silently looking into one another's eyes. Mason reached over the flower pot and passed the cigar to her. "Lola," his other hand resting on her knee, "it's gonna be okay." No it wasn't. He knew that, but there was nothing he could say to fix it, and he also knew that. Comfort was the only option, and he had never been good at that.
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Society has expectations, and Mason has never been one to let the people around him down. That is if you're excluding his Mother, his best friend, Max, and about ⅜ of the population of Boston. On the other hand, Mason had an array of skills. To begin, he was excellent at drinking and could drink nearly anyone under the table. Along with this, Mason can candy flip without any distressing signals all the while balancing on a handstand. If that didn't impress the local police he didn't know what would.
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Lola was less focused on society's expectations. In fact, she almost purposely went against societal conformity. It wasn't in her nature. She was rash in her decision making and reckless in most every situation. The one thing she completely and utterly despised though was being misunderstood. Lola was bipolar, and while Mason was spending his time trying to accomplish absolutely nothing. Lola was being thrown into psychiatric evaluations like they were an average afternoon tea party.

+ violence and strong language
BTW also a lot of drug references so beware.