Welcome to Gaia! ::

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX




Braidon Landar watched the neon numbers tick by on his alarm clock. He'd been watching them for a full forty-five minutes now, just waiting. Only six more, and there'd be that soft knock on his door. Daniel would come in, looking just a bit more concerned than he had the morning before. He'd sit on the edge of the bed, ruffle Braidon's hair and just let them be for a moment. It was the best three minutes of Braidon's whole day. The companionable silence between he and his brother before he actually had to roll out of his bed and start another day. It was a fairly recent tradition, just these past few months. Before that, Daniel wouldn't wait. He'd just ruffle the little boy's auburn hair, pull back the covers and tell him to get up. But getting up became more and more of a challenge. Every now and then, it even brought the little boy to tears or made him physically sick to think about going to school, much less actually getting up and doing it. At first, Daniel would sit there and ask if Braidon wanted to talk. But the little boy never did, and eventually they both settled into this gentle silence, these few minutes of comfort before Braidon would have to rip the bandaid off and start another day.

But today would be a bit different. Yesterday, Braidon had been asked to bring a letter home with him from school. He was to petrified to open it and find out what his teachers had wanted Daniel to know. Whether it was about his grades slipping, or the drop-off in his class presentation. Or maybe the cafeteria ladies had shared their 'concerns' about his not eating again. Any way it came out, it couldn't be good. And Braidon didn't want to face it. So, he left the wretched envelope with the seal of the school on the counter for his brother to find and went off to his room to change out of his uniform.

When Daniel came home, he found Braidon in his usual spot, curled up on the end of the couch blankly staring at the television. After the usual 'how was your day' conversation and Braidon's quiet, muttered responses, Daniel gave a sigh and headed to the kitchen. Braidon hated the sound of that sigh. He'd heard it more and more often in the past few months. It made Daniel sound helpless, and Braidon didn't want him to be helpless. He absolutely loathed the fact that he made his brother sad. But he couldn't explain anything. He was just empty inside now. And he couldn't even find a way to tell Daniel about it.

And then Daniel was coming back into the living room, and he was holding the damning evidence in his hand. Braidon's eyes stayed unfocused in the general area of the television, and he vaguely registered the pull of the couch pillows when Daniel sat down next to him.

"Bray..." The older man's voice was gentle as he laid a hand on his little brother's shoulder. Forcing Braidon to actually look you in the eye was a big challenge lately and Daniel didn't know what was worse: that his brother couldn't even look at him, or the horrible dull and vacant expression Braidon held in the rare moments when their eyes met. "Bray..."He coaxed softly again, gently sitting the little red-head upright and turning him to face Daniel. "You bring this letter home from school today?"
Braidon turned to his brother, and blinked a few times before his brain could pull the words into focus. He wrung his hands in his lap and watched them rather than face his brother's concern.

"Uh huh." Braidon replied, voice raspy.

"Do you know what its about, Bud?"

A head shake from the little boy.

"Okay..." Daniel sighed again, "Its from your teacher. He's worried about you. Says you've stopped participating in class? That you aren't hanging with your friends on breaks anymore... Says he and the other staff are all worried about how pale and thin you've gotten lately..."

Braidon nodded, tears stinging at his eyes. He'd disappointed Daniel. Braidon wasn't sure ow he could live with that. He didn't like hearing about his problems. He had a mirror, he could tell his clothes were to big, that his freckles stood out unnaturally now that his skin was so light. He didn't want to hear it. Not from Daniel.

"Buddy..." The older cooed, pulling Braidon onto his lap, hugging his brother gently, "Its alright. Its alright. Listen. Mr. Anders wants you to visit the school psychologist tomorrow first thing. He thinks that maybe you could get better if you talked to him. Alright?"

Braidon turned his head, confused. He hadn't expected the letter to say that. The little boy shook his head, eyes widening in fear. "I...don't want to talk..." He mumbled, chewing his lip nervously.

"I know, bud. And I'm not sure about this whole shrink thing. But lets give it a try, okay? There's got to be something that can help."

"Dan...please no...please?" Braidon squeaked. He couldn't talk to some stranger. He couldn't even talk to Daniel. And Daniel was the only person he had in his whole life. "Please no?"

The horrible helpless sigh answered the little boy's plea. "Just give it one try, okay bud? Just once tomorrow. And if you really don't like it, then we'll stop it. Alright? Why don't you try just once tomorrow for me?"

Daniel was skeptical, he'd never really believed in the whole therapy thing. But, he had seen his little brother fade away before his very eyes. And he was desperate enough to try anything once.

The rest of the night had been quiet, Daniel checking Braidon's homework, Braidon picking a bit at his dinner, Braidon insisting he was exhausted and going to bed just an hour later.


And now, the little boy was counting down the neon numbers until Daniel knocked on his door.
2....1...
There it was, Braidon smiled softly, watching his door swing open to reveal his big brother.

"Morning, Bray." Daniel's familiar voice floated towards him as the other stepped into the room, ruffled his little brother's hair, and sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes. Braiodn let his eyes close and sunk into a few seconds of real rest before he'd have to get up.
"Kay...here we go..."

Four minutes was never enough. It always passed way too quickly. Braidon sighed sadly and sat up, the tears already falling silently. This was going to be a horrible day. They were all awful, but today he had to go to the school psychologist. And it was going to be unendurable.

Daniel reached over to ruffle the young boy's hair, then wipe away a couple of tears. "Its going to be okay bud. Promise."
It was something Daniel said often, not knowing how else to comfort the little red head. And although he'd been promising for months, Braidon only seemed to be retreating further and further into himself.

The little boy got himself dressed for school, and Daniel dropped him off in front of the torture chamber on his way to work, just as he always did.

The tiny red-head swallowed against the tears threatening to embarrass him as he trudged up the front steps. He'd always been small for his age, even before he stopped eating, and was easy to pick out in the hallways as everyone around him had a good four to eight inches on him height wise. Braidon kept his eyes on the floor as he hurried to his classroom, hanging his coat up and finding a desk at the far back before the other students came in.

His teacher, Mr. Anders, walked towards him with an overly cheery smile. "Good morning, Braidon." He greeted, placing a small slip of yellow paper on the little boys desk. It was a reminder of his appointment instructing him to proceed to the guidance center immediately after attendance. He was filled with a profound sense of dread as he followed these directions, shuffling out of his classroom after attendance was taken and making his way slowly to the guidance center.

When he finally arrived, he awkwardly stepped over to what he thought might be the secretary of the place and said nothing, just standing there, wringing his hands. The pretty brunette woman smiled the same overly cheery smile at him. "You must be Braidon."
Braidon said nothing, and flinched a quick nod.

"You can go right in hun, the door's open." She pointed a pink acrylic nail towards a light-colored wood door that was open half way, revealing a brightly lit room. Braidon nodded again and shuffled over into the opening.

There, he froze, eyes fixed on the shoes he couldn't even bother to tie this morning. The uniform his was wearing was oddly baggy. The shoulders of his navy blazer hanging off the much narrower ones of his frame, his pants billowing around his shoes just a bit, clearly loose. It was obvious from his appearance that he'd been wasting away. His complexion was extremely pale, the deep shadows under his dull, deep green eyes the only color he had. He was truly a pathetic sight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX




When the small boy waited in the door's opening and nothing happened, he shuffled his feet forward a few inches, his eyes still so focused on the floor that he saw nothing but carpet. The room could have been entirely empty for all Braidon knew. Instinctively, Braidon's shoulders curled forward as if to protect himself from some unperceived blow as he waited there just inside of the doorway.
The small boy could feel the sting of tear welling up again and he struggled to choke them back down. Hands clenching into tight fists with the effort. He would not cry in front of this shrink. No matter what.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX





Braidon stumbled backwards a few small steps when he saw the man's shadow grow closer on the floor. It was clear the boy didn't trust this man and felt better with a bit of distance between them.
The boy couldn't make himself look up from the ground. His dull gaze froze on the laces of his own untied shoes. The only thing he saw of the doctor was the toes of his practical shoes. It was difficult to tell much about a person from their shoes. Sometimes they could be misleading. Mr. Anders wore red canvas sneakers. You'd think someone with red canvas sneakers would be a guy a kid could trust. But Mr. Anders had written the letter. The letter to Daniel that sent him here. Here to the shrink.

When the man addressed him, he sounded pleasant enough. Not overly cheery like the other adults, maybe even a little sincere. But he was still a shrink. And he wanted to talk. Talking wasn't something Braidon could do, so he was on high alert.

It was Braidon's turn to answer back. His mouth opened and closed. No sound. He tried again, and produced a raspy squeak. The little boy cleared his throat, and tried again. Finally he manages a quiet, "Hullo." Braidon hadn't spoken really since last night at dinner, which had dried his throat out. But what was more heart wrenching was the fact that he'd been so out of practice lately, he's had to try three times before muscle memory kicked in and remembered how to actually make sound.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX





The click of the door as it closed caused the tiny boy to flinch. Now he was stuck. He didn't think he'd heard it lock, but you could never be sure. Maybe it locked from the outside, or just locked automatically. Either way there wasn't a clear way out any longer and that had to be taken into consideration. When under attack, it had been Braidon's experience that knowing where the exits were and running like hell were extremely important. When there wasn't an easy escape, you curled up into a ball, protected your head, and prayed it'd be over soon. Somehow, however, the red-head doubted that was a good plan in this situation.

As the man backed off and moved away, Braidon seized the opportunity to look at the room for the first time. He scouted out the couches trying to take in the information as quickly as possible before the man turned back to face him. The place seemed comfortable enough. It was clean, bright, tidy. But Braidon interpreted all of these things as threats. It would be just like them to make you think you were safe, to get you all comfortable so you'd spill your guts to them. Well, that wasn't something he'd be doing. He wouldn't fall for it. His eyes slid back to the comfort of his own toes as Engel turned back towards him.

Now he was being spoken to again. Braidon struggled to pull himself out of his own panic long enough to translate. Did he want to sit? His narrow shoulders tightened as he grew tense. It was a deceptively simple question. What if this was the first test? Would the man write something down in the little notebook like cartoon shrinks had? Something good or bad depending on whether he'd sat down or not? Or where he chose to sit? This was clearly a big deal.

Did he want to sit?

Well, his legs were sort of tired. And it seemed safe enough. But why was the man asking? What had he done? The boys always did something gross whenever they offered Braidon something. But the shrink didn't look like the sort of person who would pull your chair out from under you. At least, not by the little Braidon had seen of him (his toes, mainly). But... he was a shrink..and so the boy distrusted him still.

For a spilt second, he let his eyes dart to the man's face. He needed to read this Emil character, figure out whether he wanted juice or not. Figure out what he was supposed to do.

In that brief moment, the little boy's dull eyes reflected several emotions. Foremost was the general look of vacancy, the loss of light from their usual jade expression. It was the only thing most adults saw anymore. But if they bothered to get pat that, others would she his sheer terror in this moment of crisis- the jsitting decision. They would also see his suspicion, he was wary of Emil, didn't trust the guy at all. If they looked even further, they would see the heart break, the little boy screaming, sobbing, dying on the inside. Then again, that was a lot to read from a split second of eye contact before Braidon was focused on the floor again.

Did he want to sit down?

The little red-head didn't know. Braidon needed more time to decide. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then tried again.

"Am I supposed to?" He asked quietly, tentatively.

((off for the night :]))

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX





Braidon took a moment longer than usual to process the man's words. He was used to silence now that it required his complete concentration not to ignore whatever was said to him.
"Y-yeah..." Was his eventual uncertain answer and he shuffled a bit further into the room, his eyes still locked on the floor.
The little boy pushed his fists into the pockets of his pants while he considered something. Braidon opened his mout as if to speak a few times before finally producing any sound.
"How long do I have to be here?" He asked the shrink in a soft mumble.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX





"If I don't have to be here..." The little boy rasped, "..then why did they make me come in the first place?" Truly, if no one was going to make Braidon stay here and talk, there was little chance he would do so voluntarily. The very prospect of being made to talk about his problems terrified the boy.
And then there was this shrink. He was also stressing Braidon out. Why couldn't the man just tell him what to do like any other adult?Why did he constantly ask questions and make Braidon choose?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX





Braidon shook his head and glanced up at the man briefly, his tired eyes completely devoid of any other expression. "Not really," The student answered honestly with a little apologetic shrug as his eyes slid back to his toes. "I don't like anyone's company." He explained further in a small voice, " 'cept maybe Daniel's."