Chapter Text
Wilbur’s new therapist’s room looked as stereotypical as they come. Neutral toned walls, a cream colored couch and chair, paintings of nature on the walls, all graced with natural light provided by the giant window that took up what would have been the outer wall. Currently the curtains were open, leaving Wilbur with the sight of treetops and the blue sky. He wasn’t sure what the intention of the large window was. Maybe it was to make the room feel less claustrophobic to those nervous about the appointment, maybe it was to provide a little bit of a distraction for those who needed it. Most likely it was just the way the room came, nothing psychological about it.
Great. He was already overthinking things. This appointment was going to go well.
As he settled into the couch, his eyes were drawn to the woman in the room with him as she sat across from him, a little wooden table between them. She had introduced herself to him not too long ago, as Socorro Rivera or Dr. Rivera, whichever he preferred. She was a shorter woman, around the height of 5’0ft, which made their first interaction terribly funny to Wilbur. She had to practically crane her whole head up to look at him.
He guessed she looked nice. There really wasn’t anything that stood out from her immediately, tan skin and dark features. She had a nice business casual smile that Wilbur could appreciate. She didn’t give off the same vibes of forced cheer that Dr. Singh had, which was great. His previous therapist had annoyed him more than anything.
Still, he wasn’t exactly happy to be here, which is something Dr. Rivera immediately made note of. “So Wilbur, what brings you to my office today?” She casually clicked her pen open, loosely scanning through a paper in her hand.
Wilbur snorted, lounging back on the couch, “Oh I’m sure you know.”
“I do.” She agreed, “But I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Well,” he dramatically drew the word out, “I almost got my brother killed because I wanted to jump off a bridge. So I’m here on recommendation from the hospital for a failed suicide attempt.”
Dr. Rivera hummed, “Okay. It’s good that you could admit it, thats an amazing first step. If it’s okay, I would like to go over what the hospital sent me with you. That way, you can interject if you disagree or want to add something for me.”
“Sure.”
“You were brought into the ER with a minor injury after a bridge collapsed with you and your brother on it. Your brother received severe injuries, but went through a successful surgery. You were the one who called 9-1-1 and when the paramedics arrived on scene you displayed a sense of disassociation that concerned them. Due to the location of your accident, as well as behaviors you showed to the medical staff, you were deemed a potential suicide risk. This was later confirmed by yourself and your twin brother. You were admitted to the Williamsburg Psychiatric Hospital for further observation, where you spent the next 3 days until you were deemed safe to return home. While there, you received treatment from both Dr. McCarthy and Dr. Singh. Dr. McCarthy, after spending some time talking to you and reviewing some questions you answered, did diagnose you with Major Depressive Disorder and a mild version of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder–”
Wilbur raised his hand. Dr. Rivera gave him a small smile and a nod, “Where the fuck did she get OCD from? How did she get that from me being suicidal?”
Dr. Rivera flipped to another page, “OCD is an anxiety disorder and, along with most anxiety disorders, comes with an increased risk of suicide. While I’m not saying its your OCD that made you feel suicidal, it can be a factor. You also showed mild signs of OCD during your stay at WPH, such as your obsession with good vs evil and other various religious components controlling your life. Any other questions?”
“Nah.”
“Perfect, let me know if that changes. From what it says on the paper, you denied any form of medication for both your OCD and MDD?” Wilbur nodded and she made a note on the paper, “Okay we are almost done with this part. You received treatment from Dr. Singh, who felt comfortable releasing you from her care after about 3 days. She made a note that you seemed eager to answer her questions and willing to work with the staff, and you were overjoyed at your release. Now, while that does sound ideal, I do think it’s far from the truth.”
Shock rushed through him, quickly overtaken by a wave of annoyance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She placed her hands in her lab, “You seem like the type of guy who values honesty over fabricated words, is that true?”
Wilbur narrowed his eyes, “I guess you could say that.”
“Then I will speak freely, seeing as I believe you will benefit more from that than some sugar coated words.” Dr. Rivera responded with a smile, “I’ve been in this business for a long time. I know your type. You most likely wanted out of that hospital from the moment you stepped into it, and you did whatever you could get there. A little truth mixed with some acting would have done you wonders in the busy psychiatric ward.”
“What makes you say that?” Anger ran through his veins, burning down his arms until he clenched them into fists. He tried to not react psychically much past that, knowing that every action was taken into account from here on.
This wasn’t a busy ER nurse or an overworked hospital doctor. Dr. Rivera had no one but him to focus on for the next hour. She wouldn’t be as easy to fool.
“You’d be surprised how easily body language gives people away.” Dr. Rivera placed the papers from the hospital onto the side table next to her, returning her hands to her lap. “From the moment I entered the waiting room till you sat down on that couch, I was watching how you moved and acted. Most first timers are nervous and that tends to show in their behavior. Slouching, avoiding eye contact, mumbled speech. You however never hesitated to meet my eyes, walked with a sense of confidence, and immediately made yourself comfortable on my couch. However, your body language was never open . You didn’t initiate conversation or eye contact, walked behind me instead of beside me, and your attention wandered as we entered the room. Though you are laying down which shows a sense of comfort, your body is closed off with your arms across your chest and your eyes more often drifting across the room. You do not want to be here, do you?”
Admittedly, he was impressed. Wilbur had grown up being told that he had a talent for words, a silver tongue and personality to go with it. He had never struggled when it came to fabricating words, lies slipping from his mouth easier than sand through fingers. He had never even considered his body language throughout all of this.
His eyes met Dr. Rivera’s and he smirked, “Nope. I don’t.” He shrugged, “I’m glad that I don’t have to at least hide it.”
“Then why are you here?” She blinked calmly, unphased. Wilbur couldn’t get a good read on her and it annoyed him. He couldn’t make up his mind on whether or not he actually liked her.
He decided on a begrudging respect. “I made a promise to my boyfriend once I got out of the hospital. He wanted me to go to therapy to get some help and ‘talk about my feelings’ or whatever. I just agreed and came so he wouldn’t get mad at me. I’m sure you understand, it’s never fun when your partner is mad at you.”
Dr. Rivera let out another hum, “No it isn’t. So what are you planning on getting out of this? An hour of awkward silence and the occasional note home for your boyfriend so he won’t get mad at you?”
“That would be ideal.”
“Well, Wilbur,” She smiled at him, “I’m a woman of honest work. I’ve put a lot of time and effort into my job in order to reach the level of success that I have, so no. It’s not going to work with that. I’m not going to be your hideaway for an hour.” She sighed, “I don’t mind if you have off days and don’t want to talk. I don’t mind if you just need a day to relax and chat about whatever random things that come to your mind. You don’t have to spill your life secrets to me every time you come see me, or at all. We can go through these sessions without ever talking about your problems if you really want to, but I’m not going to let you hide away in my office when someone who actually wants my help can be here instead. I hope you understand.”
“Huh,” Wilbur sat up and stared at her, “I think that’s the nicest way that someone has ever told me to fuck off.”
Dr. Rivera laughed, the noise a little nasally and loud. It was pretty endearing. “Now I would never say that exactly, I like my job. So tell me about this boyfriend of yours. It sounds like you hold him in rather high regard.”
The subversion caused him to pause for a second, but he recaught himself after a moment. “Didn’t we just have a whole talk about how you are supposed to help me, not let me hide away in your office? Shouldn’t you be asking about me?”
Dr. Rivera reached over to her notebook and pen, shifting until she was resting with her foot under her leg on the chair. She clicked her pen. “I said you can’t hide away in my office in silence every time you have an appointment. I’m not the school nurse. Getting to know you, your life, and the people around you will help me be able to help you. A person's perception of others tells a lot about them. So, tell me about your boyfriend, unless you have something else you want to talk about?”
Wilbur thought for a minute, returning his gaze to the ceiling. He had already lost the battle in trying to prove his point, so there was no reason in hiding it anymore. He supposed he wouldn’t waste any of Dr. Rivera’s time. Or Phil’s money. “Eh, nah. We can talk about George.” She clicked her pen and moved it closer to the notepad, causing Wilbur to laugh a bit. “You better take extensive notes, I have a lot to say about George.”
“So his name is George?”
It was a good point to start, easy to unravel from there. “Yep. George Henry, we go to the same school. Hell, we met at school not too long after I got adopted and moved out to Florida. We were both 10 and got paired together during a project because we had both just moved out to America. That’s what kind of got us started in the bonding part, we were both from Britain and we chatted a lot about weird American things. We grew pretty close rather quickly.” Wilbur laid back down, flicking his fingers together for a second. “We introduced our families. His mother hated me, my father loved him, it was all set in stone. We started dating when we were 15 and have been together ever since. We’re actually going to hit our 3 year anniversary in April.”
“Got any plans for it?” Dr. Rivera had written a couple of things down, but had made no attempt to interrupt him. He could barely see her write from the corner of his eye.
“Nah, George’s not very into anniversaries. We are probably just going to chill out in his apartment and have dinner or whatever. Nothing too special.”
“His place? What about his mother?”
That made him pause for a second. Wilbur didn’t like to talk about her, never really brought her into conversations. He wondered if George had told her yet, and what she thought about his suicide attempt. He wondered if she would be disappointed that he lived. “He lives alone. I don’t like to talk about her, can I move on?”
She wrote something down, “Of course. What’s George like?”
He couldn’t help but smile, tilting his head in a small effort to block Dr. Rivera from noticing. He wasn’t sure if it worked or not. “He’s amazing. A little bit of a brat, but perfect. I love him. He’s super smart but also the biggest idiot I know. He’s not super great with emotions and has some trust issues but if he does trust you, he’s the most loyal person you will meet. Super sweet, hot, funny, smart, really the whole package. Plus he loves me which is always nice, oh and my family. He loves them a lot too. He’s never gotten upset when my dad stuck Tommy on us when we tried to go on dates or hang out, he made Tommy feel like part of the plans. I want to marry him one day.”
“Marriage huh? That’s big.”
Wilbur shrugged, “You know when you know, you know?”
Dr. Rivera laughed, “Yes I know. So, Tommy. Is that your twin brother or?”
“Oh no,” Wilbur froze up again before continuing. Tommy was a safe topic too. It was fine to talk about Tommy. “He’s my younger brother. So there is me, Tommy, and Techno. Techno’s my twin.” He frowned, pushing on before Dr. Rivera could ask another question, “Tommy’s great. He’s a little shit but he’s the best brother anyone can ask for. He annoys the living hell out of me but I have no problem hanging out with him. We do our math homework together sometimes.”
“What about Techno?”
“We aren’t on talking terms right now.” A hard edge had slipped into his voice, which Dr. Rivera must have caught onto as she hummed and wrote in her notepad. “George actually called Tommy his little brother the other day, not to his face of course Tommy would never let him hear the end of it, but it was really cute. I’m glad they get along. It means the world to me.”
The sounds of pen on paper were the only thing Wilbur heard for a minute, “So George and Tommy. They sound important to you.”
“They really are,” the ceiling was getting a little boring from all of the staring he was doing. They should move a painting onto the ceiling. “The most important people in my life. I have some close friends of course, but nobody like the two of them. They are all that matters.”
“Surely other things matter?”
Wilbur shrugged, “Nothing compared to them. I don’t know how to word it I guess? Like, if it came to saving the world or making them happy, I’d choose them?”
“I think that makes perfect sense,” more writing sounded from her end, “They sound great. I’m glad to know you have good people in your life.”
“Me too,” another frown slipped onto his face, “which makes it a little harder.”
“Makes what harder? Your suicidal thoughts?”
“That and the anger. I don’t like snapping at them.” Memories of George’s disastrous birthday dinner flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help but shake his head. “I don’t want to talk about that. It makes me feel bad.”
“It can be hard when you hurt those you care about,” Dr. Rivera agreed. “It’s okay to feel guilty about that, it’s all normal–”
“Can we move on please.” The anger in his tone was easy to pick up on but Wilbur couldn’t force himself to feel bad about it. He had warned her.
The air grew silent for a minute before the sound of pen on paper broke through again, “Of course. We only have a couple more minutes left in our appointment, would you like to add anything on or would you like to set a goal for our next appointment?”
Wilbur titled his head towards her, a little confused. “A goal? What is this, therapy?” He paused, “Oh wait. Shit.”
Nasally laughter greeted him in response and he couldn’t help but laugh himself. “Yes, Wilbur, just like therapy!” Dr. Rivera joked back, “But yes, a goal. Maybe something you want to address with either myself or a family member, or something you want to do? It could be anything you desire.”
A frown formed on his face, “No not really? I’ve never thought about it, I guess. Do you have any ideas?”
“Of course I do,” her voice had a teasing lit to it and it helped him ease back into the couch, “it’s my job after all. Personally, I would suggest that during our time away, you start on a journal. Now, you don’t have to share this journal or its entries with anyone, myself included. I think it would be productive for you to write down your feelings, in an attempt to acknowledge and recognize them. I think that could be beneficial for you.”
“So,” Wilbur sighed, “I have to talk about my feelings and write about them? Doesn’t that seem a little redundant to you?”
“Sometimes redundancy is the key to success.”
“Literally no one has said that. Ever.”
“I don’t know about that, I mean I just said it.” Dr. Rivera moved her foot from under her, standing up with a big stretch. “Don’t worry, you won’t lose points on your report card if you don’t do the journal, but seriously. I think it would be a really helpful tool for you if you were to pursue it. Think about it before our next session.”
He stood up as well, “I guess. Uh,” he made uncomfortable eye contact, “thanks. I guess. You aren’t too bad.”
She smiled, “Starting to rethink the whole therapy thing?”
“Oh don’t give yourself too much credit I still hate this and would rather die then talk about my feelings.” As he finished speaking she reached over, grabbing her notepad and writing one last thing down. He couldn’t help but ask, “Is the notepad thing supposed to feel patronizing or am I just imagining it?”
Dr. Rivera shrugged, “Depends on what you find patronizing. It’s just notes to bring up later.” She headed towards the door, opening it with a soft click. Wilbur followed behind her with soft steps. Something about the whole office building itself gave him the urge to be as quiet as possible. “So I’ll see you in a week, the same time as today. If anything comes up, don’t be afraid to reach out to my office or my work phone, which is listed in the papers you received when you first came in. I always have that phone on me, so if you ever need to talk about anything let me know. I hope you have a good rest of your day Wilbur.”
“You as well.” He called out to her as she turned back to the hallway, returning to her office.
Wilbur left the building with a small wave to the receptionist, entering the humid air with a small huff. It only took him a minute to find Phil’s car, parked exactly where he had originally been dropped off. He wondered if Phil had even left.
He missed his car.
Wilbur didn’t respond to his dad’s greeting, slipping a headphone into his ear and leaning his head on the window. He was still mad at Phil, and a little worn out from his appointment with Dr. Rivera. He didn’t feel like speaking. Well, that was until he saw the sign for an approaching store.
“Hey dad? Can we make a quick stop, I need to pick something up real quick.”
~
November 15th, 2021
Hey,
Surprisingly, today was a… good day. Which is weird. I can’t remember the last time I had a good day. Like, a completely good day. Sometimes I have good moments during bad days, like when George comes over or Tommy does something especially dumb, but today was just a plain ol’ good day.
On a Monday too. Take that Facebook moms.
It was weird, having a good day. I still had a couple of moments when I thought I was going to slip up but I was able to work through it. Take a couple deep breaths and think. It was nice. It also terrifies me.
I had my second appointment with Dr. Rivera the other day. I’m not going to go into detail because, well, I was there, but some of the things she said made me think. Especially the comment about healing not being linear. I guess that is what is scaring me.
Does that mean something bad is coming? If I’m feeling better, does that mean that I’m soon going to be feeling worse?
It makes me think, which is never any good. What’s the point in fighting the bad when the good only makes the bad come back? Like a moth drawn to light, will the bad always follow the good? I guess these are questions I could ask Dr. Rivera, but I think she’s a therapist and not a philosopher. I don’t think she will have the answer to these kinds of questions. Or, maybe she will. She is kind of scary smart.
I think she’s growing on me a little more each time I think about her. Kind of like a fungus. That’s rude. I’m not taking it back.
I worked on some of my songs the other day. I couldn’t find it in me to tell George. He had asked a while back for me to play a song for him but I can’t right now. He’s smart. He will be able to read right through me. Honestly, I think I’m starting to lose my touch a little bit. Seems like the whole world can read through me these days.
The other day Tommy called me out for lying to him. To be fair, he’s always been good at noticing when I’m lying, but this was almost immediately. He didn’t even hesitate. I think he’s developing. I would be scared if I wasn’t so impressed.
Maybe I should reconsider my skill set.
Wilbur Soot-Watson
~
A couple days later, George came to visit. Honestly, George was over a lot these days. It might have felt like he was over more often now that Wilbur wasn’t allowed to go to his house, but it felt like George was there more days then he wasn’t. It didn’t matter if it was a school night, rain or sun, George was there.
It was nice. It was stifling.
Phil had asked them to stay downstairs tonight, which was weird. His father was usually pretty okay with them heading upstairs as long as George was with him and they left the door unlocked, which was still annoying but Wilbur made it work. Any time with George was a win. Still, having to sit on the couch where anyone can come and butt in was a little annoying.
He still made sure that he got his time cuddling with George. If Phil made them stay downstairs, he would have to pay the repercussions of his actions. From the moment that George had sat down, Wilbur wrapped him in his arms and pulled him close. Tommy had immediately screamed in horror and ran off. It was nice. George fit in his arms perfectly.
Though, George did seem a bit more… pushy these days. Before his sucide attempt, George tended to back off when Wilbur seemed quiet or annoyed, leaving them to relax in silence. These days George would continue talking as if Wilbur’s growing ire wasn’t an issue to him. Maybe it wasn’t an issue for him. It was possible that George wanted to spend as much time with Wilbur as he could, regardless of his mood. He could also just not care. George had a tendency to ignore things he didn’t care for.
It’s nice to think that Wilbur’s bad moods could fall under that. It also pissed him off.
A gentle thrumming on his arm redrew his attention. Wilbur let out a hum. “I asked you a question.” George teased, placing a gentle kiss on Wilbur’s jaw.
“Did you think about the chance that I didn’t want to answer it?” He teased back. He made an attempt to kiss George, who quickly leaned to the side and out of the way, tsking. Wilbur pouted at him, “What’s that all about?”
“No kissing on the couch.” George smiled, leaning back again when Wilbur made another attempt. Damn him. “Plus I want you to answer my question, you ass. It’s important.”
“Fine, what was it?”
“Wow you weren’t even listening? Some boyfriend you are.” He caught a glimpse of George rolling his eyes. Wilbur placed a pacifying kiss on his cheek in return. “I thought you loved to listen to me talk about Karl’s weird love life.”
“No, I love to listen to you talk. Karl’s weird love life just happens to be something that you talk about. A lot.” He looked at George, who met his eyes with a soft look. “If I didn’t know better I would say that you like like Karl.”
“Like like? What are we? Middle schoolers?”
“I hope not that would be weird.” Wilbur winked, laughing when George smacked him in return. “Okay fine tell me about Karl’s love life.”
Wilbur’s felt as his face softened into a softer, fonder look when George’s eyes brightened. “Okay so, Karl was telling me about this guy who he used to date that he recently reconnected with but get this? Karl’s also been talking to another guy. Of course Alex and I told him to stop being a whore and pick one, but it turns out that they are all okay with Karl dating both of them. It gets even better!” George laughed. It warmed Wilbur’s heart. “They know each other! Karl thinks they have this ‘secretly in love but will never admit it because they are Bros™’ thing going on and wants to start some sort of poly relationship with them.”
“Did you just say ‘TM’ aloud?”
“Is that really what you took out of that?”
Wilbur laughed, “That does sound like something Karl would do to be fair. Do we know them?”
He felt George shrug more than he saw it, soft against his chest. “I think you do but I don’t recognize their names off the top of my head as anything but Karl’s boytoys. He wants to bring them to the next Girls Night but we will probably meet them at school before that. When are you heading back, by the way? Isn’t Techno set to come back soon?”
School. Wilbur wasn’t sure when the last time he had thought about school was . Sure, it came up in passing when talking about his school friends, but actually thinking about going back? Wilbur wasn’t sure. “I… don’t know?” He admitted, “No one’s told me anything. I guess we can ask Phil?”
George turned his head at a weird angle to look at Wilbur’s face. It didn’t look very comfortable. Wilbur nudged him until he moved his head back. “Do you want to go back?”
“Eh,” he shrugged, “I don't really want to do much of anything. Doesn’t mean I can run away from it forever. Phil!” He called to his dad, who he knew was lurking somewhere in the kitchen. Phil hardly left him alone these days. It didn’t take long for his dad to enter the room and look at him, confused. George tried to pull away but Wilbur wouldn’t let him. Repercussions of actions after all. “When am I going back to school? I don’t want to fail out or something.” Wilbur shivered, “Imagine being a super senior. I would rather die–”
Phil sighed. “Please stop saying that.” Phil took a seat in one of the chairs nearby. “Uh, I was going to bring this up soon but I wasn’t sure when the best time was… I’m not sending you back to school?”
“What?”
“I get to drop out?” George and Wilbur spoke at the same time, the excitement in Wilbur’s voice overshadowing George’s confusion. “That’s sick. I can be like that hot secret boyfriend that picks George up from school–”
“Literally everyone knows who you are, Wilbur.”
“No, you aren’t dropping out either, Wilbur.” Phil looked like he would rather be anywhere in the world than this room, having this conversation. Wilbur had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he would soon be feeling the same way. “I’m having you homeschooled. I’m not sure how long, it might be the rest of the year or just a couple of months. I think it would be better that way.”
He felt his heart drop. His arms loosened from their position around George’s waist. “You won’t even let me go to school ?” For the first time in awhile, Wilbur honestly wanted to cry. He wanted to cry and scream and break something . “Seriously? Not even to fucking school?”
“I can’t trust that you won’t–”
“I won’t what?” Wilbur was growing a little hysterical. George tried to comfort him by rubbing his arm but it did nothing to distract him, “Jump off the roof? Shoot up in the bathroom or something? They have measures to prevent that, Phil, so I can’t just walk into school and die.”
Phil rubbed his face in his hands. Wilbur ignored the distress on his fathers face. It would do nothing but piss him off. “I worry about you Wilbur. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You can’t just lock me away forever.” He felt a tear slip down his face. “Stop punishing me. I can’t live the rest of my life in this house.”
“It’s not the rest of your life Wil, it’s just until I trust you again–”
“I haven’t left the house without you hovering over me since I went to that fucking bridge with Techno.” Another tear fell down his face, and more, until he was officially crying. George pulled out of his arms, turning around to try and hug him. Wilbur didn’t let him. “I just want to feel normal again, yeah, just like you said? How am I supposed to heal when I’m constantly reminded of what I did? I just want to be a kid again.”
He didn’t give Phil time to respond, turning away and heading upstairs. George followed him with a whispered sentence to his father. Wilbur ignored it. He wanted to be alone.
He wasn’t allowed to be alone. He doubted he would be for awhile.