The Sixth, Is When You Admit You May Have Messed Up a Little

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

Backdated: July 23^rd, 2014
Trigger Warning:(maybe) Discussions of eating disorder-ish.

Demetrius wasn't all that surprised when he woke up that morning and got a note that he needed to see Dr. Neville. In fact the only thing he might have been surprised about was that Dr. Neville hadn't given him all that much 'recovery' time. It was only yesterday that Demetrius had left the hospital with his wrist wrapped up in the temporary splint. Granted as far as the boy cared he didn't really need recovery time. There wasn't anything wrong with him except for the aching (or would be aching if he could feel that sort of thing) tiredness that made it feel like he was trying to walk through quicksand.

Okay, so maybe that was enough of a problem to deserve the 'arrest warrant' out for him in the form of a summons. A summons that most likely couldn't be ignored. Especially not one from one of the most powerful telepaths on campus.

He sighed briefly before forcing open his green eyes again to stare up at the ceiling, waiting for his vision to stop swimming before he sat up. His wrist was clad in a thick black splint that hindered his halting progress to get dressed and head down to the offices. It was already one o'clock (where the time had went since he found the note in his hand, he didn't know) and he figured if he didn't go now then he'd find a security guard ready to escort him or so nonsense.

Making his way to the office was slow progress at best. Demetrius would declare he wasn't actively trying to stall but it was obvious he was if his second trip to the bathroom on the way (and all he did was wash his hands and try to use his hair to cover up the bruises on his cheek) was anything to go by. Now, it wasn't that he hated Dr. Neville - he was scared of the man - but it was the fact he had no idea what to say. Demetrius wasn't stupid and he knew what the meeting was about but it didn't make it any easier, nor did it make the sensation of walking to the gallows disappear.

As he neared Dr. Neville's office, pale faced and tired, he tried to summon up the energy to deploy the same tricks he used against Greg to guard his mind. Though he wouldn't just picture Greg in compromising positions (something told him Dr. Neville wouldn't approve) he would just try playing music in his head and hope that kept the older man from his thoughts.

There was a pause as the dark clad boy moved closer to the door, taking the time to start the music for 'Running Up That Hill' in his mind before he knocked on the door.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Some days were longer than others, some students required more assistance than others did, and some cases were more difficult and complicated than others were. Despite the fact that classes had just resumed for the summer session, Sean had inherited a complicated and difficult situation.

Of course, the psychiatrist had heard about Demetrius’s stay in the hospital, about the injuries and all of the collateral damage during summer recess. However, this was the first real opportunity for them to meet and discuss a plan of action, between the boy’s more immediate physical injuries and the vacation period at the school. Yet, here they were now.

Despite being on recess prior to this week, the psychiatrist had retrieved his file from Hammel so that he could review it, make notes, and plan affirmatively in anticipation of today’s meeting. He had enough that he felt in control of the situation, although such confidence was tempered by concern for Demetrius coupled with the awareness that this would be a long-term problem that would require exhaustive planning and effort.

At least the boy had arrived in response to the summons. That was a start, as it eliminated the need for sending security after Demetrius, which would have only compounded matters.

The song running through the winged boy’s mind would not be enough to distract the psychiatrist or to make a dent in his ability to probe, but, already, he could sense that this would be a less than pleasant meeting. Part of being an adult was dealing with all aspects of life, including ones that involved resistant teenagers and severe medical disorders.

To that end, he called out, “You can come in, Demetrius. Be sure to close the door behind you.”

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

Demetrius took a moment to take a deep breath, not willing to admit that hearing Dr. Neville's voice had sent a sharp spike of unease through him. Maybe it was the fact he knew the male on the other side of the door was going to be digging around under his skin. Or maybe because Dr. Neville was a telepath and therefore had an even greater chance of succeeding than anyone else. Not that it really matter in the end.

He shook his head briefly before turning the handle and walking inside. Green eyes glanced at Dr. Neville briefly as he walked forward to sit in one of the chair, not waiting for permission. His back was straight against the back of the chair in attempt to hide the fact he would very much just like to fall asleep. Small circles stood out under his eyes on his pale bruised face, the rest of his body hidden underneath a long sleeved sweatshirt and pair of tight black jeans.

"You wanted to see me." It wasn't really a question. He knew that Dr. Neville wanted to discuss exactly what led to him passing out and falling out of a tree. So he just watched with barely concealed suspicion, trying to slump casually to rest his bruised cheek on his hand so his head wouldn't slump.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean was so used to students having suspicions about telepaths that he rarely remarked on it. Occasionally, he mentioned this fact to Josh, when they were home together, but he only called attention to such thoughts in sessions when he had a point to make, often when a student broached the subject first with a concern or an accusation.

Personally, he found great benefits in possessing telepathy, and, time and again, patients came to appreciate the utility. However, that took time to permeate.

Once Demetrius was inside, the psychiatrist rose from his chair, prepared to help the boy to his seat. However, before he could do so, the winged boy demonstrated that he required no assistance. Sean sat back down, facing Demetrius, so that they could begin this meeting.

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed with a nod. Although it had not been a question, he treated it as such, before moving forward. “I assume that you know why.” His voice was gentle and non-accusatory. Stress and accusations were not the way to proceed after such a traumatic event.

He didn’t say the reason outright, because he wanted to hear Demetrius describe the situation in his own words. He wanted to hear whether he cast it as an overreaction from faculty, or if he understood that it was a concern. They could proceed from there.

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

"Because I broke my wrist." Demetrius held up his brace just to prove his point. Yes, he knew Dr. Neville knew why he was here. He knew why he was here as well. But that didn't mean Demetrius had to make this easy on the older male. Of course there was always the fact that if he made everything too difficult Dr. Neville might just use his telepathy to find the answers. He frowned a bit more as his eyes flicked away from Dr. Neville, shoulders shrugging a slight degree.

With his fingers tapping a quiet beat against the bruised cheek he added onto his statement, not caring too much about the silences punctuating his speech. "Y'all think I need to be here because I passed out." His own voice was blunt but defensive. He knew about the problem, yet his own personality wouldn't let him take the blame. So he automatically placed the blame on someone else without considering the words leaving his mouth. It was always easier to pretend someone else caused the problem than admit to being weak. "I'll be fine, y'know. Not like a few bumps and bruises actually fuckin' hurt."

((SORRYY! ))

[Dr. Sean Neville]

That was not why Demetrius was in Sean’s office. If the psychiatrist involved himself every time a student sustained a physical injury from training or from extracurricular antics, then he would never have a spare moment. The faculty tried to prevent injury, but there was only so much they could do when surrounded (and out-numbered) by hundreds of teenagers with meta-human powers.

Demetrius had additional health concerns, due to his condition. The inability to feel pain led to greater injuries, as that was the body’s way of telling the mind to stop what it was doing. That put Demetrius’s on Nik’s watch list, since injuries were to be expected.

But that was not the health concern that led to the boy’s presence in Sean’s office, nor to Sean’s involvement in his life. Rather, it was the eating disorder.

Eating disorders were difficult to manage. They were not as well understood as some other psychiatric disorders. The number of eating disorders in adolescents was rising, particularly among males, but popular culture tended to ignore that. So much so that some people thought that no boys or men could have eating disorders.

That did not help with treatment.

The psychiatrist shook his head. “This isn’t about the broken wrist or about any of the bruises. And I trust that you know that.”

He wanted Demetrius to be honest with him.