Thread: Amnesia (Nico x Hahvoc)

RE Amnesia Nico x Hahvoc That's supposed to be me, isn't it? Oliver stayed still, like any movement would set Kerrigan off and suddenly he'd have a rabid animal on his hands. Lowell's movements were slow, and he simply looked tired. Oliver relaxed slightly and watched him run a hand over his face. When he backed up, looking like he was about to flee, Oliver raised a hand in an attempt to stop him. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. Don't worry? It will all be A-O.K? Like hell it would be. Why are you protecting me? Huh. Why indeed Oliver must have looked like a fish his mouth dropped slightly open and closed a couple of times as he struggled to find the words. He glanced around, as if he would find the answer just sitting on the couch waiting for him. Finally he found his voice, I don't really know. The pause was palpable, and Oliver had to bite his tongue not to leave it at that. He felt something rise in him, perhaps it was the stress, or how unfair everything felt at the moment, oh the irony, but he found he didn't want to hold back. You were my patient. Maybe I feel a responsibility for you. Granted, I was barely out of my degree when we met, and I was working under a PHD, but, I don't know, I guess I felt like I was doing something right with you. Oliver kicked one of the couch pillows on the ground, sending it bouncing towards the door, then turned and sat on the coffee table, facing Lowell. His hands rested on his knees, fiddling. You were A hard case. No offense- He raised his hand, green eyes flicking up to see if Kerrigan was still listening, I just think you want the truth. So far so good. His voice was level and his hands weren't shaking. You were rather vicious with the other mentored psychiatrists in our office. I think you cycled through three before you were dropped- I mean, came to me. Dr. Breden decided to change our focus for you from therapy to diagnosis. He thought you had a diagnosable mental illness. I thought different. We clashed. Long story short, he gave me a couple of weeks to talk to you as my patient alone. And boy, let me tell you- we hit it off from the start. Oliver gave a strained awkward laugh, his eyes looking back at Kerrigan, then away just as quickly. Anyway, like I said, I thought I was making progress. You barely spoke to the others, and when you did, you spoke strangely or mocked them. With me, you did the same, Oliver coughed, having called up some embarrassing memories, but you would also tell me stories. Here, green eyes met grey, Some of them were innocent, others were not so innocent. Oliver paused, his hands gripping his knees through his jeans, I simply wanted enough to go on to show them that you were human. Too often diagnosing a mental illness is used as the easy way out of having to treat a disturbed or distraught patient long-term, and I didn't want you to be another of those that ended up drugged out of their mind, or shunned from participating normally in society. I didn't want you to feel any more detached and forsaken than you already were. Oliver hung his head, running his fingers through his hair, I fucked up there, definitely, he mumbled softly. Raising his head after a while, Oliver stood, picking up the scattered pillows and throwing them back on the couch, That's the first part of the story anyway, the second half isn't all that appetizing. Walking back towards Kerrigan, Oliver squinted up at him, Would you like to eat now? I think I'd feel better about all this if I have something in my stomach. He turned towards the kitchen, trying to hide his nervous energy. Why was it that now that Kerrigan was awake and fully coherent, he couldn't find the voice to tell him all that had happened, or that he was sorry? The guilt that ate at him seemed to have devoured his vocal cords as well.