19 - Electricity

[John's POV]

We are just so happy together. He's a serious, hard-working but also fragile child, and I consider myself a bundle of randomly exploding happiness, as well as the glue that holds us together, particularly when things go awry.

We're lying around and watching Netflix on the couch in our dorm. I almost forgot one was there because I haven't used it since Alex arrived. Huh. I think my habits are changing! Anyway, we began watching The Office, but then Alex got bored, grabbing chips and ice cream. It was movie time, folks! I've been trying to find something for both of us to enjoy, but now he's showing signs of tiredness.

"Jumanji?" I ask, "It's a classic!" I turn my head to face him. He nods drowsily next to me. We've stayed up a while now, but usually he's up for longer. Much longer. Anyway, the title sequence begins and within the next ten minutes his head is resting on my lap. I stroke his messy hair gently as he snores. He snores gracefully, not loudly or weirdly. It's almost nice, but then snoring isn't ever like that. I continue to watch the movie, chuckling every now and then because it amuses me, watching him stir in his dreams.

[Alex's POV]

It's a massive wave of comfort, sitting by him. I've never really been a movie person, but The Office didn't take me by surprise, and I wanted something properly entertaining to view. By that time I was just too exhausted. The day had caught up with me and all its trouble. I tossed and turned in my sleep. Dreamscape was swirling around in my head.

It was a placid scene, clouds and whatnot floating at the top of the horizon, forming the beginnings of whatever was about to come. I was sitting in a classroom on my own, sun blasting through the glass windows as I was solidifying all the content. I am a genius, but geniuses aren't invincible, they need time to become the incredible people they are, and what they hope to achieve. After a good hour or so, Alexander Hamilton Dream Time or AHDT, I wrap up my techniques and stroll outside, placing myself under the beautiful sunlight and taking a break. Horribly unlike me, but this is in my dreams, so no one gives a crap. And out of nowhere something happens. Something appears next to me, visible and smiling.

It's… shit. It can't be. I stare at the face. Female. Perfectly young. Right next to me.

It's her.

She died.

What's wrong?

I think something's wrong.

Am I hallucinating?

Am I actually under the sun, watching this very person say nothing, sit, stare at me, who is utterly gobsmacked and smile?

I don't think so.

It's impossible.

They passed on.

None of them stick around.

Well, she hasn't at all for me…

"Fuck!" I swear and jump awake. I can feel myself shaking in integers as John's eyes settle on me. He hasn't seen me swear before, so his confusion is genuine.

"Can I help at all?" He asks me with a tinge of urgency, looking down at my clammy hand and squeezing it. My eyes can't focus on him. They grow a little bit misty for some reason as I let the silence flow, trying to put the pieces together. Hoping to stabilise myself. I rush to the nearest wall, using it for balance, before I begin pacing. My speed is growing faster with every minute, shaking off the gut feeling. I stop, and stare out into the darkness of our window. It's a still night, barely reaching the morning. John's watching me with bated breath. She's there. I don't know how, but I need to deal with this. Flashback time…

I remember I'd gone out on an angry violence spree as I tried to run away from myself and all my inner problems, I'd come back from soaking in the rain.

"I'm so damn sorry, John…" I spoke to him sincerely.

"It's…" He was struggling to find the words. "Fine. From now on, just to preserve your health, I'll take you to a psychologist. That ok with you?"

A psychologist. Eureka! I haven't been to one since, like he said, but I've never really needed one. Now is the time. It'll make me a better person, make a difference for myself. A new man. Just you wait, America! You're gonna see the new and improved Alexander Hamilton!

[John's POV]

He's been staring out that window for a while now… It's making me feel uncomfortable, like I'm almost suspicious of him doing it. Like he'd climb out, abseiling down into the nothingness (He'd done it in his holiday time once when he was younger and told me that he was an absolute beast) and do something terrible, or even worse, climb out that window and jump. He'd be gone, at so young too. I can't have that.

"Alexander Hamilton!" I shout with a shakiness I wish I could gulp down, "Step away from that windowsill!"

He turns back and faces me, silhouetted under the moonlight, "I need to see a psychologist." He speaks with a surprising affirmity, "Now."

"But it's…" I yawn, flapping my hands through my hair and flashing my phone on. I'm frozen for a moment with the brightness, eyes wide. I groan and he can't help but laugh. "Shut it!" I reply playfully, before walking closer, "Nearly midnight… Are you sure?"

[Alex's POV]

"Yes, I'm sure!" I reply like a giddy child. I mean, I technically am one. Give it a break, universe! I know I'm over 18!

"Are you like, sure on su--" I kiss him and he's frozen even more. He's used to it but is caught off guard more than ever. It's usually him making the first move. I hold my hands at his waist for a moment, and I can tell he's appreciating it, because I can practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks as I pull away.

John's caught himself with the giggles. He holds up his hand, turns around and grabs some water. Damn, John. Did I even do that much? Does he not like it? Have I taken it too far…? And see, kids, this is why I need a psychologist. That whole dreamy illusiony possibly realistic thing is just an added bonus. Which I clearly didn't want. Or need. Give it a freaking break, universe!

"Of course, Lexi. Just down the road." He grabs my hand and smiles. We enjoy the silence. Lexi? Is that a pet name? Eh. I shrug it off externally but file it off internally. It could be important! We change into some casual but warm night clothes (it's getting cold here… I for one do not like it...) and start making tracks. It's a few minutes' walk away, not long, but just enough to get both our hearts moving. I'm not the exercising type, and John isn't that much either. Heck yeah, he's still maintained the abs from his gym days some time ago, but he's slacking off now. Wonder why?

"Is this it?" I shield my eyes from the light of the neon blue sign.

"Yeah." He turns and nods, "Best in the biz, apparently… Patients first."

I push the door wide open and a bell rings from above. John follows from behind and takes a seat by the fish pond and water cooler, while I wait for assistance at the front counter. John is totally immersed in it and doesn't notice me. I mean, he can't help it.

"It's a freaking. Baby. Turtle!!" He whisper-screams to the tank, leaving fingerprints all over, "I want it. I want it. I want it!" He continues, almost maniacally.

"I think you might need the psych, John!" He flicks his head in a fright.

"Yeah, sure." He sighs of relief. "But, yes. This is for you, you asked, yada yada yada… And… the lady's here." He raises his voice to the more normal, accustomed one, plopping back down on one of the chairs.

The woman at the counter is looking exhausted but looks just as helpful-looking. Her hair is dirty blonde in a bob cut, and her face looks a tad wrinkly. You get what you get and you don't get upset, I guess… Mental note. Never. Ever. Say. That. Phrase. Again.

"I suppose I can help you?" Her voice is clear but tilted towards the stern side. I nod my head. "I want to see a psychologist if that's possible, like if any are awake at this--"

She sighs, "Well, I'm the only one here so you're in luck. Confidentiality as always, your friend here---" I can see that John wants to correct her with eager eyes, but not now. Later. I shake my hands frantically at him and he knows to shut up, so he reclines in his chair, crossing his arms. "Can stay outside. Come in." I yawn and follow from behind her down into the very last room of the lot. John waves me goodbye and I mouth, "It's not for long. I'll be back." He grins with some kind of self accomplishment or gladness, seeing how supportive he's being, before watching me dive further into the darkness.

I can't see a thing. It's pitch black. I try to feel for the door but that's closed. I continually press against it in a panic. What is going on?

"Excuse me?" I yell, "Can you turn---" She was by the damn switch the whole time. She's looking at me with an all-knowing glint that's embedded in her dark brown pupils.

"At least I know a little more about you." She purses her lips, "Come, sit." It's one of those creepy massage chairs at shopping malls. Well, I used to think so. I thought you put a coin in, sat down, massaged for a few seconds and then trapped inside! Engulfed! I take a seat nonetheless. "Now, name?"

"I think I'd like yours first."

"Oh, right. I'm Beverly, and I'll be your psychologist. Now you."

"Alexander." I reply with a shudder. Beverly's giving me a hard stare as she moves her head up and down between her notes and me.

"Now what's the problem?"

"Well," I begin, nerves taking a hold of me. I understand why I was so reluctant before tonight. Being judged on all your inner fears and problems. Everything that clings on inside your mind. Everything that ebbs and flows through your head. I feel like she's a vacuum, slowly sucking everything out of me. "I-I had this… dream…" I look up like a nervous puppy. She nods her head gently, clearly comprehending my situation.

"Go on."

"And I was working before I took a break outside, under the sun and then I---" Oh my freaking God, stop crying, you big baby! I mean, I can feel the water splashing down hard. What a bad patient I am. I'm breathing in and out with shaky breaths and Beverly passes me a tissue. I plant it on my face while I speak so she can't see my vulnerability. "Saw my mother. She died when I was 12. How? Is it possible? Did I go to the world of the dead I--" She shushes me with strictness and I lower the covering, waiting as she continues to note things down.

"It appears you have some kind of trauma in your life? Yes?" I nod and she continues, "This trauma is all associated with memories. Memories that will forever be etched into your mind. Now, they are linked to triggers. These triggers are words or phrases that bring the trauma to the forefront of your consciousness, and there begins the breakdown. I'll start with a little game, ok?"

"What will it entail?"

"I will call out some words which are associated with trauma, based on other patients who have come in here--"

"What about that confidentiality?"

"It's anonymous." At this point I just concede. My energy is being used half to keep me awake, half to focus. There's not much spare for intellect or criticism. "I'll pause between each word to gauge your reaction…" She hands me several tissues. "Alright, let's start!" Her voice is chipper, and I don't know why or how, because she's about to break me. Ugh. This is about to get dirty.

"Fire…"

"Burning…"

"Skeletons…"

"Loss of loved ones…"

Fuck. She knows. I can just feel my eyes swelling up, tears ready to burst. Shit, stop the emotional display!

"Ok… Well that's fairly normal… I'll proceed…"

"Yes." I reply, barely audible.

"Life…"

"Illness…"

"Insecurity…"

I mean… Why is this so personal? Like, you could be saying spiders, snakes, or pineapples on pizza and I wouldn't shed a tear, but this, this is made to invade. I shiver a little and she nods. Beverly is taking in every moment, movement and reaction. I guess that's her job.

"Water…"

"Earth…"

"Collapse…"

"Falling…"

"Destruction…"

"Natural disasters…"

Bonk! She's hit the goddamn nail on the head. That shivering from before doesn't stop for a while. It comes in a cycle. The more I rub my arms the more I'm convulsing. Tears flood like waterfalls.

"Beverly, stop!" I anxiously yelp, "Stop! Don't even think about it! Stop!"

She rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath. "I knew this would happen at some stage, just a matter of when…" She's reaching for something in a cupboard, but, admittedly, she's a shorty.

"A little help here?" She turns around as I walk over and open the cupboard door with ease. "Now, pull out that blanket up there." I wipe the tears from my face and remain stationary for a bit. "Come on, you're so much taller…" Once I regain a certain amount of emotional stability, I return her comment a little bit dazed or confused.

"I'm not quite sure what…"

"It's for you, Mr. Basketball!" Beverly exclaims as I grab it and wrap myself around. Clearly affected by the whole height thing… We both take our places. I look into her eyes, which are as hard as steel, cold as ice. "Right. Which natural disaster?"

"Hurricane." I state placidly, but I pull the blanket around more. I'm surprised she even gave it to me.

"Ok…" She scribbles a lot down now. I look around the room in silence, spotting a photo framed on a shelf. It's her and another girl, posing by the Empire State Building and smiling.

"Who's that?" I ask meekly.

"You're in the therapy, not me." She responds mysteriously, "You're done. See you whenever, Alexander."

"Can I?" I gesture to the blanket.

"Sure." She yawns, "I have millions."

"Thanks, Beverly…" I nod and walk out. That walk transforms into a dash as John is asleep, drooling pretty badly. I nudge him awake and he comes back in a start.

"I was just about to steal one you son of a--Alex!" He bats his eyes, rubs his mouth and smiles. My face is puffy and bright red from crying. His eyes widen at that. "H-How'd it go?"

"Eh… We'll talk about it later…" He's holding his phone at my face. I really can't be bothered to stop him. "Don't ever make me say this again but I need sleep!"

"Sure…" He chuckles and puts the phone back in his pocket. We walk in silence for the next few minutes, taking in the nonexistent view. Once we're back in the dorm, I can't help but ask.

"W-W-Will you ever judge me for who I am?"

"Of course not, you loveable lug!" He pecks me on the lips. "But you won't judge me either, yeah?" He fiddles with his fingers for a tick.

"Of course not, you handsome devil!" I cup his cheek tenderly and smother him. He's super cute when he's enjoying myself. We linger for some time until he lets go.

"You wanted sleep, remember?"

"Uh-hu--" I don't even finish the sentence because I've spotted the bed, and I'm barely able to stop myself from falling into that beautiful cushioned goodness. It's as good as it's always been, even better still. I don't have another episode for the rest of the morning, becuase it's 3am now, and all seems to be going well.

[John's POV]

I change out of my nightclothes and into my pajamas. Alex is saying things in his sleep. I'm a little worried about him. Will he have to go there again? He looked like he had been tortured in there…

He snores and presses his head further in the pillow, "Yeah, yeah. Aw, stop it! Well, if you're calling me Lexi, can I call you Lozzi? I mean, Lexi and Lozzi! Whaddaya say?" He snores in wait for my dream self's answer. Better answer now than never.

"Of course you can, you adorable, loveable, intelligent, kinda clumsy lug!" He starts laughing as I say that, my breath near his ear. I peck him quickly to ease the pain, before rolling onto my side and falling asleep.