His breath catches in his throat in a bad way and he has to look away. Sometimes, he wishes he could just be normal about this shit, and it would make things easier.
He has to take a few steps back, scrubbing his face and his hair as if he can delete the invasive thought that just shot through his mind and groans.
"Fuck. Don't- Don't say it like that. Or I'll start dragging my feet." He's still got David's letter in his pocket and that to him is a promise, to cross the finish line more, and yet he knows if that will shorten the time, he'd try not to.
He smiles, gently brushing his fingers thorough Hanna's curls playfully again. "Don't misunderstand me, Hanna. I'm not going to disappear the moment that you're graduated. I'm not waiting on you and only you. But I'd rather leave after I am certain you will be alright."
He drags his hands down his face, looking up at him, "Well thank you for the reassurance, but unfortunately that isn't a guarantee that what ever the hell my brain is trying to do is going to help me believe you." It's truly a him problem.
"A-and it isn't like I don't trust you, I do, but you hear shit over and over like 'don't worry', 'I'm not going to disappear' or 'you'll be alright' and they're just...words. Regardless of intention, or how much any one means them, that's all they are." Reality usually gets in the way of them being more than that.
Sheehan pulls back, leaning against the arm of his chair. "I know. I hate that, too. I lost - someone close to me here. She told me she was leaving with only a day or so to prepare. I almost wish I hadn't gotten the notification," he explains. "It's not a good feeling and I - I am really sorry that you felt it, too."
Hanna doesn't feel like sitting. He's been sitting in his little hide out for a week and it feels good to stretch his legs.
"Is...is there anyway to make that stop?" Malcolm had said it was psychological, and he was rather aware of that, where it started. He wasn't the first professional to point that out to him so bluntly, it had just been a hell of a long time since the last.
"I get like this and I feel like people can see right through me." People being Malcolm, or Arthur who he swears if they weren't friends he'd think all they were looking for was an interesting puzzle to solve. "And I hate feeling like that."
"It's really hard to be seen," Sheehan tells him. "It's vulnerable. But you don't need to make the feeling stop. The feeling is important, Hanna. But you can cope with it in another way other than running and hiding."
He isn't sure he gets that, frowning as he crosses his arms and puzzles through it in his head, "so I...shouldn't try and work on my random abandonment issues?"
He says as if they both don't know they aren't at all random.
"Feelings are garbage and I wish I didn't have them." Well- that's not true. He sighs, thinking of the piece of paper in his pocket. His feelings helped David, that was...unexpected, but sometimes they really so suck.
"What a boring life that would be," he answers with a smile. "I know that you don't believe that, but it is hard to endure the negative feelings." He crosses his legs. "Where do you feel it? In your body? When you want to run?"
"Are you my armchair psychologist now?" He isn't sure how he feels about that, how literal that is, but fine. He'll bite.
His hand comes up to his collarbone where his scar starts, tracing it over his shirt to his heart. "Kind f all over, but it's like...centered right here. Just kind of buzzes outward until I feel it all over."
"No, I'm using my skills at the job that I do to see if I can help a friend," he tells him firmly because this isn't the first or the second or the third or the seventeenth time that he's had this conversation.
"You aren't the first one to accuse me of this, but I refuse to let my advice go to waste just because of what I was," he says with a hint of a smile. "And how do you relieve the pressure? Does running make it go away?"
Hanna chews on his lip, stopping in his pacing to slowly look back at Sheehan. Why?
"Probably a bunch of reasons. Because you frustrate me, because I get uncomfortable and don't know how to handle it...because I feel like if I push enough, you'll realize I'm not worth it and leave like I know you should."
"Do you think you're good enough to hide your true nature from me?" he asks and there's a little teasing in it because he doesn't like to drop heavy things on Hanna too much. He is giving him an out, just a little one.
He raises an eyebrow at him, "and what does 'true nature' mean? I'm not just secretly reveling in the fact that I can be an ass and laughing about it like a litte goblin..." He doesn't like to be at all, really.
But the truth of what happened, how he operates, who he is now as some rotten fucking shell of a boy, no one wanted to hear it, so it's easier to just push them away before they got close enough to tell him he's crazy. It makes no sense, he knows Sheehan had seen it, but that doesn't make his behavior any more rational.
"And I can be an ass, too. But you are worth caring about, Hanna. You are worth caring about a lot. So - that's what I intend on doing. And if you need to snap at me a lot before you realize it, then so be it."
"I suppose it's not so much a lie, more that the D can be interchangeable."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and pointedly stares at the wall, back facing Sheehan. Why is being honest so hard and generally embarrassing?
"Sometimes it stands for dick when you're being one, not as likely. But when you're being all...disappointed, or telling me that despite any kind of resistance you're still going to care? It's dad. C-cause it's hard to not hear it like you say it and not think about him and I have no idea how to deal with that, but maybe after I graduate I'll get you a picture, show you how weird it is to look at you and see the outline of him."
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He has to take a few steps back, scrubbing his face and his hair as if he can delete the invasive thought that just shot through his mind and groans.
"Fuck. Don't- Don't say it like that. Or I'll start dragging my feet." He's still got David's letter in his pocket and that to him is a promise, to cross the finish line more, and yet he knows if that will shorten the time, he'd try not to.
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"A-and it isn't like I don't trust you, I do, but you hear shit over and over like 'don't worry', 'I'm not going to disappear' or 'you'll be alright' and they're just...words. Regardless of intention, or how much any one means them, that's all they are." Reality usually gets in the way of them being more than that.
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"Is...is there anyway to make that stop?" Malcolm had said it was psychological, and he was rather aware of that, where it started. He wasn't the first professional to point that out to him so bluntly, it had just been a hell of a long time since the last.
"I get like this and I feel like people can see right through me." People being Malcolm, or Arthur who he swears if they weren't friends he'd think all they were looking for was an interesting puzzle to solve. "And I hate feeling like that."
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He says as if they both don't know they aren't at all random.
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His hand comes up to his collarbone where his scar starts, tracing it over his shirt to his heart. "Kind f all over, but it's like...centered right here. Just kind of buzzes outward until I feel it all over."
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"Is it painful?"
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He starts to pace, just so he can move and shrugs. "I don't know...I feel like I'm gonna explode, but that's not painful, that's like...pressure?"
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He hasn't felt like punching Sheehan before at least. "It's like a reflex. And...I'm sorry I do that."
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"Probably a bunch of reasons. Because you frustrate me, because I get uncomfortable and don't know how to handle it...because I feel like if I push enough, you'll realize I'm not worth it and leave like I know you should."
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But the truth of what happened, how he operates, who he is now as some rotten fucking shell of a boy, no one wanted to hear it, so it's easier to just push them away before they got close enough to tell him he's crazy. It makes no sense, he knows Sheehan had seen it, but that doesn't make his behavior any more rational.
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"I lied to you before. The D doesn't stand for doctor."
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"Yeah? What does it mean?"
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He shoved his hands in his pockets and pointedly stares at the wall, back facing Sheehan. Why is being honest so hard and generally embarrassing?
"Sometimes it stands for dick when you're being one, not as likely. But when you're being all...disappointed, or telling me that despite any kind of resistance you're still going to care? It's dad. C-cause it's hard to not hear it like you say it and not think about him and I have no idea how to deal with that, but maybe after I graduate I'll get you a picture, show you how weird it is to look at you and see the outline of him."
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