Work Text:
John knows he should see a therapist—he does. Really and truly he needs to talk to someone, and he knows this! No one wants to be sitting on the edge of a bridge way above the rushing water beneath. No one wants to spend their weeks and months focusing on one thing only to wake up one day and no longer find joy in it.
And so John sits, legs dangling off the bridge, torso curling over the poles running the length of the bridge acting as a railing, scrolling through his phone.
online therapy
He tries that first. Links upon purple links begging to be clicked on again. Links that take him to the websites that offer unlimited texts with licensed therapists that Rose could only wish to end up like. Plans that cost between a few boondollars and a stack. Plans that simply are out of his price range.
free online therapy
Comes up with similar results. Lists of online counseling that end up not being free. Flat rates of up to seventy boondollars a month are once again just out of his price range. Not to mention he doesn’t need the unlimited calls and texts, once a week was fine—if that.
therapists near cantown
There has to be someone. Cantown was quite extensive with even more small towns nearby. There has to be someone.
This time, John found a useful list. A list of therapists in the surrounding area that offered e-therapy.
He opens the hamburger menu in the corner and taps on “Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT)” and waits for the website to load. He chooses a few more subheadings, including “Anxiety” and “Depression”, before looking at the list. Quite a short list, unfortunately, but he’ll make do.
Scrolling through the list, he tapps a psychiatrist who seems promising from their picture. As he reads through the description and specializations of the professional, he feels like he could really click and feel safe with this person. They are a ways out, but offer calls-only until they feel steady enough to open their office. He thinks about sending Rose the profile to see what she thought.
That is, of course, until he sees the price. Two hundred boondollars a session.
John audibly sobbs and hits his head against the pipe. There is no way he’d be able to afford it! He’d be able to do maybe two months before he runs out of money—if that! The game may have given them enough money to last them a while, but that’s only if it was allocated properly and John…did not do that.
To his credit, a lot of the players’ money went towards rebuilding infrastructure and research so they could make Earth C the absolute best it could be. Part of that money was spent funding the same therapists he’s tried looking into. The same therapists that are now too expensive for him. And, sure, he could mention to whoever he goes to that he’s one of the original players and most of them would lower their price or eradicate it for him…but that’s not fair to them. He shouldn’t pay less just because he’s famous and also a literal god.
He closes the page for the umpteenth time and leans back, still holding on to the railing. He can’t just give up, but he also can’t sit there forever looking at the same dead ends. He can’t just go to Rose, either, as she’s not licensed and also goes to therapy herself—as she and Kanaya can afford it.
He rests his head against the railing just as the beginnings of pinks and yellows start to make their way over the horizon and the carapacians that keep the city running overnight return to their homes. The early morning joggers and their pets have already started appearing and waving to him as they pass.
John stands up, cracks his back, and prepares to jump into the air. He catches the attention of a few more citizens as he does a variation of the windy thing, and shoots into the clouds—away from the people, away from the bridge, away from Cantown, and away from his problems once again.