Death Can't Come Soon Enough

[Ashton Harper]

Camping had been...probably the worst idea he'd had. Alex coming had been even worse of an idea. It hadn't taken very long for her to come at him swearing and flailing her arms around like some manic car dealership blow up thing. He'd come out of it with only a handprint on the side of his face for not letting her just stay home and 'get fucked up.' How dare he! Honestly, Ashton was tempted to have her tested for a psych ward. She was going to kill someone some day just because they looked at her wrong. 

Ash was reluctant coming to sessions with Dr. Fitzpatrick. While the guy seemed fine enough, he was stoic and reminded him too much of his own dad. Sure, it was his job to be professional and not take things to heart, but Ash was a heartfelt kind of guy. He was the only one with the last name Harper that had that thing in the middle of his chest cavity that pumped warm blood through his veins. Perhaps that was why he'd decided to go to a therapist. The last thing he wanted was to end up anything like the rest of his family.

He cleared his throat and tapped on the door to the office. He was exactly on time, though he'd have been early if he hadn't been pacing in the hallway for ten minutes. What was he going to say this time? That his sister hit him because she was riding with security. Ash could have ridden with her, but he was already struggling with the normalcy of a mutant school, let alone having his non-mutant sister come with him to one of its functions. The security guy hadn't exactly helped him out much with her attitude problem, but he couldn't be too mad, he had saved her from being a drunken idiot in the woods.

Ash sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while he stood outside the door.

[Lincoln Fitzpatrick]

The thing Lincoln enjoyed the most about his job was the variety of people that came to see him. They weren't all students, nor were they all forced to be there. He actually found himself enjoying those who came willingly more than those who didn't. Working with people who fought him every step of the way grew tiresome quickly and well, Lincoln was known for being a little harsh in his assessments.

The knock had the thirty-six year old looking up from his laptop. "Come in," he announced after waiting a moment. Ashton Harper - a college student who came from a human family. The boy likely had some ancestors who had been mutants, though, from what he'd gathered, it was likely far back. 

He couldn't blame the boy for needing someone to talk to. How could some parents disregard their children so easily for being different?

[Ashton Harper]

Ashton hesitated a few seconds more even after he was told to enter. Maybe he shouldn't have bothered his counselor, but then, he figured he might go insane if he kept all of his thoughts bottled up to himself. Perhaps he'd explode. And then Alex would have to fend for herself in this world, without him, which would likely result in her incarceration, but that wouldn't be his problem because he'd be dead. All of these thoughts sped through his mind before he walked into Dr. Fitzpatrick's office. He wondered if he should bring up the intrigue he felt towards death, but then, it wasn't that he actually wanted to die. He was just being dramatic.

The blonde chewed on the inside of his cheek as he took a seat across the desk from the older man. His fingers were twitching, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. One of the things he hated the most about his therapy sessions was his ability making him incapable of lying. Lincoln knew everything because Ashton often got diarrhea of the mouth, all of his little mental side-bars even ended up spouting out. Not that he didn't trust his counselor, he actually was pretty okay with him, but Ash hated his lack of control when it came to what he wanted to say versus what he was forced to say.

"So. What's up?" Ashton never quite knew how to begin with his sessions. Despite his word vomiting, he was reluctant at first to begin talking. It was something he had to ease into, but soon enough he knew he wouldn't be able to shut up. He rubbed his hands, that were beginning to sweat, on his pants.

[Lincoln Fitzpatrick]

The boy looked uneasy, or perhaps, he was simply nervous. Lincoln could understand the effect a therapist had on other people. It was, in many ways, expected for a client to bear their heart and soul and that didn't always come easy for everyone. Especially not someone like Ashton who was incapable of lying.

"Well," Lincoln considered for a moment. "It depends - do you want to know what's up," he gestured towards the roof before continuing, "-or what I'm doing?" he said as he gestured towards the chair he was sitting on. Hopefully, Lincoln's attempt at joking (as path ethic as it was) would help ease the boy's mind. If only just a little.