What am I Supposed to Do? (Sean)

[Vincent Meian]

Monday morning came far too quickly. After this weekend, Vincent almost didn't want to go to Hammel; he needed more time to think, to decide what exactly he had to do about this situation with Lei.


They couldn't be together like the boy obviously wanted for a number of reasons. Firstly, because the relationship would be improperly balanced; student would become dependent on trainer to the point of unhealthy behavior. Second, it was improper and illegal; Vincent was more than twice his student's age and married, while also being his teacher. But most importantly (to the trainer, at least), the feelings were not mutual. He cared about his student, probably more than a trainer should, but he was not attracted to Leiken romantically.


Normally, this would not be an issue. The ex-soldier was a person who spoke his mind, usually without being overly kind. Despite using as few words as needed, he also tended to say exactly what he meant which led to no information being misconstrued. However, some very special circumstances dictated his actions this time, and it was imperative that this situation be handled with care because of them.


So, when first period on Monday morning came to light, he decided to ask for help.


As usual, the trainer knocked on the door of Sean Neville's office and waited for the invitation to enter the room. He greeted the man respectfully and shut the door behind him. These were normal actions whenever the two met in this office, regardless of the subject matter they were to discuss, and they had an air of ritual about them that comforted the troubled trainer.


However, Vincent did not yet sit. His hand rested on the door as he thought things through once more, and eventually he looked back to the older and much wiser man with an expression of weariness. "Dr. Neville, I... I would like to request your advice," he stated. "It's about Lei."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Secrets didn’t survive at Hammel for very long. Secrets survived even shorter durations when telepaths were involved, and when the secrets involved something salacious enough to catch the attention of others.

In the wake of Brendan’s relationship with Vincent Verax, the Hammel staff was more sensitive to the issue of inappropriate conduct between teachers and students. It was a matter to which Sean, in particular, was sensitive, and one that he didn’t want to see repeated at Hammel ever again. But particularly not within the same calendar year as the disaster at the Valentine’s Day dance.

So when the news inevitably reached Sean, albeit sooner than Vincent surely wanted and through different channels, he was understandably concerned. Doubly so, in light of the conversation he and the trainer had shared the week before, in which he had explicitly informed the younger man of his trust in his conduct.

Thus, that Monday morning, in anticipation of their meeting, the psychiatrist had mentally prepared himself for the full gamut of this discussion. He had not yet involved Yvette, because doing so would create finality, and there remained enough gray area that doing so would be premature. Sean liked to plan, and he didn’t like to take firm action until possibilities had been eliminated.

Those tendencies were what brought balance in his relationships with more impulsive individuals.

The telepath had alternated between his typical morning coffee – to keep himself awake – and hot tea – to keep himself calm, since arriving at the school early that morning. He had tended to paperwork until first period began, at which point he had set everything aside, waiting for Vincent to arrive.

When the trainer did, he looked up into the other man’s eyes with a steady gaze. “I’m sure that it is,” he said seriously. “Be sure to lock the door.”

[Vincent Meian]

Though there was no anger or disapproval in Sean's voice, the younger man held more than enough for himself when he heard those words. The lock clicked into place, not only preventing others from entering... but him from leaving. Silent and musing, the trainer took to the seat before the desk, stiff and uncomfortable.


Things shouldn't have turned out like this. He should have been more prepared, should have told his student directly that their relationship was professional and not... well, not like this. Giving comfort and understanding was one thing, and it was something the soldier could give without restraint. Affection on this personal a level was inappropriate, and something he could not give; not just because of his position, but because of his own feelings. To fake something like that would be worse than if he truly had them in the first place.


He needed help. Advice, guidance, something to say so that his wayward student would stop this but not tear himself to pieces over the rejection. However, he didn't even know what to say to Sean, let alone the boy. So, taking a deep breath to calm himself, he said what came to mind, honestly and with little reservation.


"Friday afternoon, Leiken and I had our scheduled training session," he began. "By then, I was already suspecting that he had an attraction for me, but I was willing to wait to be sure before I said anything. We were studying meditation in order to train him that listening to and understanding his emotions was important to controlling his powers. He did remarkably well for his first time, though something unnerved him. He moved away and... I consoled him."


As he spoke, Vincent remembered each detail of the session vividly, as if the act of talking about it was forcing him to remember everything. The conversation, the pain in Lei's voice, the tears on the boy's face as he talked about his former lover. His nightmares. His mistrust. It was still fresh in his mind, and each action the trainer had taken (while innocent enough from his perspective) seemed to weigh against him as he looked back on it. This was a grave misunderstanding, and Vincent knew it was his fault this had become so gnarled.


But what was he supposed to have done? Let the boy hurt alone and refuse to offer any sympathy? As distant as he was with most people, even he wasn't that cold.


"As he spoke to me, his abilities receded. There was no attempt at bruising or altering my heart rate; as if by talking about what haunted him..." There was closure there, but the trainer didn't know how to express that idea. so, he shook his head and moved on. "I was proud of him for controlling himself, even if it was subconscious. He needed that push, to show that he was doing better. I showed him that despite our closeness, he had not hurt me at all and he smiled."


That smile had been a reminder about how young his student was, and despite the happiness he had felt in the moment Vincent now felt some regret. He'd boosted the boy's hopes, yes, but perhaps in entirely the wrong direction. When he saw that smile, he forgot that Lei was a teenage boy with spurious affections; he was a child who had been given hope, and the look on his face was a beautiful thing.


But then, Lei had kissed him. And reality had come in hard and fast, slamming into the trainer with little regard to his own feelings on the subject. "He was overjoyed," he murmured. "Too exited, and acted without thinking. I could not think of what to say or do, so I dismissed him from the lesson. He left without argument, and we have had no contact since."


Considering the trainer checked his emails during lunch hours (since there was no computer in his office by his request), he had yet to receive the email Lei had sent him that morning.


"I do not want to hurt Lei," he stated, and his will was strong on that. "The boy trusts few and his emotions are fragile. But this cannot continue and I do not know how to make this right" Looking up at the serious man before him for a moment, he bowed his head deeply and asked, "Please, Sean - I ask for your help."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean waited for the other man to take a seat, remaining where he was in his own chair. His mug (tea, this time – coffee, last time) sat on a coast atop his desk, within arm’s reach for when he would inevitably need the hot liquid.

Likewise, he waited for Vincent to take the initiative in this conversation. Despite the fact that the trainer had yet to say a word, they were on more event footing – possibly more even than Vincent realized – as far as knowledge was concerned. However, hearing perspective was more valuable than hearing through either telepathy or third-party, even if his source was another staff member who had spoken to Leiken directly.

Though he was willing to wait for Vincent to describe what had happened, Sean did not want to dance around the subject matter. Uneasiness with the topic aside, it was important to discuss this like adults. Missing details, using euphemisms, and shifting focus did nothing valuable or productive. All it did was diminish the situation, which treated the underlying problem with less respect than the matter warranted.

Respect and concern were intertwined in this situation.

The telepath didn’t interrupt, and he didn’t prompt the other man. He had no desire to put words in Vincent’s mouth, because it was most important to hear directly from the source, without outside influence.

But the other man didn’t say the words aloud at the critical moment. Yet, the image, clear as day, still popped into Sean’s mind. One that he would rather not have seen.

“There is absolutely no other option beyond making it clear that this can never be,” the telepath said, as he reached for his tea since he needed to banish that mental image. “There is a spectrum of ways to phrase it, but at the end of the day, rejection is rejection.”

And rejection had to exist in this situation.

He held the mug between his hands, feeling the warmth radiate outward, before taking two sips consecutively. Finally, he said, “Several months before you transferred to Hammel, one of our art teachers began a relationship with one of the students. I walked in on them at a school event.”

Another sip of the tea, another pause as he allowed the warmth to banish that memory from the front of his mind. “Suffice it to say, he is no longer one of our teachers, and he is no longer welcome on the premises.”

[Vincent Meian]

The older man had said exactly what Vincent knew needed to be done, though he offered no explanation as to how it needed to be said. The refusal would be given, yes, but how it was phrased was often the issue with such things. Direct and to the point was needed, but how much damage would it do? The trainer didn't know; that's why he was asking for help. He was never very good at being anything but blunt with this sort of thing.


As Sean began speaking about the prior incident (which, being new, he had not heard stories of yet, though he knew such things happened), something cold settled in Vincent's chest. He looked up at the older man, eyes wary and expression guarded as the therapist finished. He almost spoke, a sting of wounded pride and anger almost forcing words from his mouth, but he held it back with effort. This was a warning, not a threat. A promise, should things go any further.


Fighting to regain composure, he took a breath and settled back, maintaining a straight posture in the chair while relaxing more muscles. Getting upset wouldn't benefit this situation at all. "I understand," he answered, his voice cold despite himself. "I know what needs to be done. I only need to know how to approach this. You know of his issues when trusting others." Can't you see why I have to be careful?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean met the younger man’s eyes steadily, not as a challenge, but to convey the severity of the matter, as well as the fact that Vincent had his full attention. For better or for worse.

The telepath took one final sip of his tea, before setting the mug back down on its coaster. That was enough for the moment, and he couldn’t speak and sip simultaneously. Not without using his telepathy as a substitute for words, or without being rude. Considering the subject matter, he didn’t think that either of those were acceptable options.

“I do see why you need to be careful,” he said, and he did. However, this wasn’t an area where he believed that one could err on the side of not hurting feelings, because any remaining gray would result in disaster. “I want you to know the situation in which you find yourself, against the greater backdrop of our recent history. Everyone is on edge a bit as a result of what happened with that teacher, and so there will be less tolerance for any occurrence, or the appearance of anything improper.”

It was imperative that Vincent understand that, and Sean tried to convey that through his tone and expression.

“I don’t think that you should be rude about it, since the teenage ego is fragile even with the most trusting individual, and Leiken is a special case. However, letting people down gently often involves a degree of false hope that you can’t let him keep. ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ won’t work here. Nor will saying anything that conveys that, if things were only a little different, then you could pursue that type of relationship.”

[Vincent Meian]

While he did care about his position in the school and the responsibilities thereof, that wasn't the main reason why he refused to accept this relationship. Not only was it something he didn't want on a personal level (as the feelings were not reciprocated), the circumstances involved were wrong. Therefore, he would be sure to make it clear that this could not be tolerated, for better or for worse.


"There is no other way, then," he mused, a degree of self-loathing present in the words. He should have stopped this before it got so far, and now a young boy would pay the price for his mistake. And to think that he was finally starting to open up, to trust me...


Standing abruptly, Vincent bowed quickly to the older man, his anger smoldering despite his attempts at calm. If there was nothing else to be done, then there was no other reason for him to be here. He would not be openly rude either, but he could not see what possible use it was to repeat things he already knew. "Thank you for your counsel, Dr. Neville. I will be sure to end this decisively."


The younger man straightened and moved for the door, his long legs closing the gap in only a few strides. While he intended to leave without another word, reaching the door made him pause even as he moved to unlock it. The original reason why he had scheduled this appointment in the first place. Looking back, a grim countenance settled over the trainer. "I will let you know the outcome of this once it has occurred. I apologize, but our other subject will have to wait."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Unfortunately not,” Sean agreed with a slight nod. Where Vincent’s voice held self-loathing, the telepath’s held concern for the other man. It was a difficult situation in which to find oneself, but there had to be firm boundaries. Having spent a fair amount of his life in a situation with amorphous boundaries, it only made life more complicated, made encounters emotionally draining, and fueled hope instead of stifling it.

The situation could only end with refusal. As Sean had said, letting him down in such a way that made him think that with circumstances changed, it could work out could lead to disaster. Not merely for Leiken’s emotions and long-term stability, but, given his behavior, also tangible consequences for both him and Vincent.

As well as possibly the trainer’s dismissal from Hammel should someone take the situation out of context.

But part of being Sean Neville was that he had the ability to see potential consequences and underlying causes. Not due to precognition and not with that sort of accuracy, but rather due to insight and knowledge. As painful as it was, and as difficult as it would be, Vincent had to draw a line in the sand, and do so as quickly as possible. Teenagers recovered quickly, particularly when they were treated like adults, in that their concerns and needs were treated as valid.

There would be an inevitable setback, but it wasn’t insurmountable. Only treating it as though it was could ensure that occurrence.

Another part of being Sean Neville was that he didn’t raise his voice. He had arguments, but he didn’t yell, in fact, he could count on one hand the times he had yelled from emotions in the course of his five-and-a-half decades on this Earth. As upset as Vincent was at the time, there would be no reciprocity should the trainer choose to air those emotions in an outburst.

But he didn’t, which was just as well.

The psychiatrist nodded his understanding about cutting their meeting short. “I can always reschedule,” he assured the other man. “And, after you speak to him, take some personal time for yourself.”

That wasn’t merely professional advice, but also concern for a friend.