Chapter Text
Gansey’s therapist sets his tea down on the coffee table between them. There is nothing wrong with Richard Campbell Gansey the II’s son. He is stubborn, but he is processing things as he should be. He is, however, being a good friend. And therapists are known to be soft to this particular Achilles’ heel.
“I know this is a hateful consideration for most of us,” he begins carefully. “And a moot one, all things considered. But I think it might be helpful to talk about how this is affecting you on an emotional level.”
I feel fine Gansey signs.
It had taken…work. For Gansey’s sister to even convince his father he needed this. But when Declan had one day mentioned to her that Ronan was probably as fluent as his instructor in signing, that was around the time Gansey stopped speaking altogether.
It’s hot out he adds, after a moment.
“Can you say it out loud? I’d love to hear your voice.” Gansey smirks at his response. Yeah… he probably could have phrased that differently.
We can understand each other fine he says, and Gansey’s moving slowly. Can you sign?
His therapist sighs. Takes another sip of his tea. Sets it back down on the table.
Will you talk to me if I do? He asks. Gansey looks down. Nods. Take your time.
I’m telling the truth, Gansey says first. Then he exhales. I woke up one morning and the world was violent.
Violent how?
A man tried to kill my friend’s dad and almost killed him instead. Gansey huffs out what might be laughter, if it were more bitter and more charged. And now neither of us can talk about it. I’m not sure we ever will.
How do you feel?
Why? Gansey signs jerkily. How do you feel about it?
His therapist watches him shake for a moment. He’s not sure if it’s nervousness or anger. But. The body delivers what the mind tells it to in the end. So he’ll work with what he’s got: which is an opening nonetheless.
“I think… it’s sad.” He says aloud.
Is that your professional opinion?
Adjusting his glasses, the edge of his smile slipping just for a second, the man signs back, it is actually one of them, yes.
Then you can go fuck yourself.
Gansey’s therapist doesn’t even blink.
I wasn’t even there Gansey pauses before going on. He’s angry and the man knows he’s angry. But anger can be useful, clinically, sometimes. He hates his job. Sometimes. But he’s so close to getting this boy to see where this is coming from and if he sees where this is coming from, then he’ll maybe finally begin to heal around that stone in his chest. Someone put a bullet in my friend and I wasn’t even there. You think this is sad? You think this is sad? I’m just glad he’s alive. I’m overjoyed there’s anything left of him to love. And quite frankly, I think sign language is beautiful, so yes, you can actually, go fucking fuck yourself.
I didn’t say anything about sign language.
You didn’t have to.
Gansey— Gansey’s therapist doesn’t finish signing his name before Gansey’s moved on in his rage.
What’s that thing the bible keeps shoving down people’s throats? You have not come to something that can be touched, doctor. You have no voice here. You have no words here. And I don’t think it’s sad, I think it’s understandable. And I find your inability to understand that offensive and ableist and tourist in nature.
Gansey is on his feet and he is breathing hard and his eyes are red, not with fear or sadness but with frustration. This boy’s emotions look as if they are being crushed under a hydraulic press.
And he is way, way overthinking things. But that would be cruel and insensitive to say aloud. Gansey needs to be reminded he could be thinking of himself, here. And his therapist can tell his chance to take that shot (or any shot with Gansey) is quickly about to expire.
You said the world was violent. Let’s go back to that?
Gansey shakes his head.
Well, fuck.
What are some other words for your world right now?
Gansey’s eyes look over the room, thinking. Searching, maybe. But he doesn’t sign anything.
How did you learn? I’m very rusty since my kids have gone away to college, but—- he stops, thinks for the right word —-you’re very proficient. And knowledgeable. You did that in such a short amount of time.
Still nothing. Okay…
We can sit here the rest of the hour if you want. I have lots of books and this is a safe space —-Gansey’s brow twitches at that last one and he hopes he remembers later to take note of it—- there’s nothing you have to do today. Or ever. We can sit here and waste your parents’ money if that’s what makes you satisfied with life.
Gansey coughs with laughter and he covers his mouth with his hand, embarrassed. His therapist chuckles
Your sister loves you very much, I think. Can you tell me a bit about how Helen is connected to all of this?
Gansey nods, his face crumbling. He takes a deep breath, but it’s shaky. His hands begin moving rather quickly.
There it is.