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What's your name?

What brought you to me?

Do you have any medical conditions you want us to know about?

Are there any kinds of music you particularly like?

Big questions indeed. Bigger, really, than Seth could answer at that moment. They stared him in the face from his glaring laptop screen. The young human man had forgotten to switch the light on as it got dark in his room, and the glare of the text was sort of painful.

Which meant, of course, that Seth couldn't get up and turn it off himself. That would just be weak. Especially for such a tiny little pain.

'What's your name?'

'Seth G,' he wrote.

'What brought you to me?'

Sounded a bit lovey-dovey ... no, he had to do this, or the boys would kick his ass. No, not just the boys. All their girlfriends and Seth's sister, Niqua, too, and worse, most of them would do it verbally. They'd all ganged up on him at the bar below his apartment where he sometimes went for a beer ... no, he needed to tell the truth. It wasn't where he sometimes went for a beer, it was where he sometimes went to drink himself into a stupor, because he had to. According to the bartender, he always broke down crying when he was there.

He'd pretended to forget and hoped no-one knew.

They - the boys, their girls, and Niqua - told him if he didn't know what to do about it, or how he even felt, he had a "real problem". Adults all know how they feel, apparently.

Seth didn't know. Seth knew he felt stuff - felt angry, felt upset, felt aggressive, but he had nowhere to put it, so how some head-shrink was going to fix that ... no, he had to try this. Chris had done it, he got therapy after his wife died, and Chris wasn't weak.

'What brought you to me?'

'I drink too much and I don't know why. I don't know what's going on. Sometimes this is too much. I don't know what it is.'

Medical conditions. Seth thought about it. He was lucky enough that the worst illness he'd ever had was chicken pox as a child, and he'd broken his arm in two places last year, when he fell down the stairs at the office. The shrink, some snake called Sage, probably wanted to know if he had schizophrenia or something, and he didn't, so Seth left the box blank.

Seth hit the 'submit' button before he could think better of it. He switched on a lamp, and his hands through his hair. He switched off his laptop, and just barely saw his reflection in the window as he went to pull the curtains. Bleary eyes, short 'designer' stubble that grew too long overnight, enough brown hair to be 'big' but not long. He was still in his work clothes: a plain shirt, tie, suit trousers. He'd forgotten to take his shoes off, but his roommates seemed to know not to bother him right now. Or they weren't in to complain. It was late. Or early.

What was worse than going to a shrink was everyone knowing he was doing it. Niqua might even have told Dad. Wouldn't that be fun?

"Women and children first," Dad used to say, about almost everything, and Seth knew he was right, but it was hard. Seth had to tiptoe around celebrating birthdays, receiving cards. He kept realising he was wearing colours that were too bright. He couldn't do anything right, even if he did everything he should have done, and everyone always tested him, always asked him how he was feeling as if he was allowed to say.

As if he really knew the answer.

It was Saturday morning. Since he hadn't slept, time crawled when Seth looked at the clock, and leapt and bound forward when he didn't. He didn't leave the living room for water. He didn't leave it for food. Not until sunrise. He got breakfast and a shower at breakfast time, and changed into some new clothes, and felt a buzz in his pocket.

A phantom buzz?

No, it was his phone. It was nine, now.

'Hi Seth G,

It's Sage here.

I've read your message, and I think we should have a chat about your problem. This is all very informal - no ties!'

What?

'I know this is very short notice, but my 11 o'clock has cancelled with the flu, and if you're free and willing, feel free to come over. I've attached a Foofle Cartograph link to my office's location.

With all peace,

Sage'

What a weird guy.

Still, he knew what he was doing, said Chris. Chris, Seth's older colleague from his last job. They'd gone fishing a few times. He was a good guy. Smart. Seth trembled a little, and replied to the e-mail:

'Dr. Sage,

I could come then. I have not slept. Is that a problem?

Regards,

Seth'

Buzz!

'Hi Chris,

Not at all. Relax.

All peace,

Sage (just Sage!)'

Not even a doctor. Wait, no, it said 'psychiatry' on -- okay. He didn't want a formal term of address. Okay. It was fine. Something about that phrase - 'all peace' - set Chris' mind off, and he thought a bit about what it could mean. Some of the heavy didn't-sleep compost inside his mind seemed to clear away, and Chris finished doing up his shirt. His roommates didn't come home last night, apparently, because none of them were around... that was fine. That was okay. Hands shaking even more, Seth opened his door to the outside world and made his way on foot to Sage's office.

He went around two blocks twice on the way, trying to calm down, and constantly checking the time, but eventually he was just there.

Seth knocked, and heard an "Oh!"

Then, "Come on inside."

Seth opened the door, and looked around. There was a lot of old wood furniture in the office - the very small office - which went well with the faint woody smell. Probably an air freshener, or incense. A bit of light, synthetic music was playing, and a giant gold-orange cobra with a suit jacket on filled most of the room with his coils. Seth balked.

"You must be Seth 'G', then," Sage said, smiling to him. His voice was salted honey, the gentlest thing Seth had ever heard. The human man cleared his throat, and tried to bring himself to say something, especially about how it wasn't a problem for him that the therapist was a snake - no, don't say that, you idiot -- "Hey, hey, slow down... You can breathe out. I'm a little big for this office, I know. You're not the first client to be surprised. That's it, big guy. Come on in."

The cobra's tail closed the door behind him, and he walked towards the snake, hands together. Well, he walked one step, because otherwise he'd walk over the guy. He really didn't know what he was doing.

"Hello," Seth said.

"Hello," Sage said, laughing softly... and part of Seth wanted to be angry at being laughed at, but it was such a soft laugh, and so clearly benevolent, that he didn't feel what he expected to feel. "Let's take it slowly, big guy. First step: you're gonna have to sit on my coils in lieu of a couch, since I can't fit anything else in here. Are you okay with doing that?"

Since he was gonna have to, and anyway Sage was much bigger than him, Seth nodded.

"Then take off your shoes and come a little closer. I won't hurt you. I can sense that you're a little bit conflicted about being here, Seth, and you're bubbling over with so many different things," fuck, if that wasn't true, the sky was green, "so I'm going to talk about this with you as frankly as I can, and I'll ask you to trust what I'm telling you, okay?"

Seth nodded again, but he was confused. He did as he was told, putting his shoes beside the door, before walking, socked, over the cobra. He was soft, and heavy, under Seth's feet. Sometimes he nearly slipped between. It felt good.

No, it felt weird.

"I'm an empath, Seth," said Sage, his eyes never leaving Seth's once they made contact over the rims of his glasses. "I can sense how you feel. You said you don't really understand the feelings happening inside you, that drive you to try to self-medicate with alcohol. Well, I can have a look at you, and tell you what I see, but I'd like - if you'll allow it - to go further than that, and really understand the reasons you feel those things. That could feel a little bit uncomfortable... Go on, sit down." Sage laughed that soft laugh again, and Seth felt muscles in his back loosen that had never loosened before. "You won't hurt me. I'm tougher than I look."

Seth obeyed, and sat down, and felt himself raised up on Sage's tail. Like sitting on Dad's knee, way back when.

"There you go. I knew you could relax once you sat down for a second... now. Seth. Would you like to know what's going on?"

The human nodded, twitchily. Sage's eyes were somehow everything to him. He'd heard about snakes having a hypnotic gaze, but that wasn't what was happening right then, not yet. There was something in Sage's eyes that wasn't magic, but which Seth desired more than a night's sleep.

Sage's coils shifted to have a loop over Seth's lap, like a blanket. The man blushed, and looked away.

"Please tell me," he said, beet-red. "I don't... this is too much for me."

"I know," Sage said. "I can feel that. But it won't be anymore. That emotion you're filled with is called shame, big guy. Lots of little shames, and they make you feel unworthy. They make you feel desperate, and sad. And you don't want to feel desperate, ever, do you, Seth? They make you punish yourself. But that doesn't make the shame go away, and on and on it goes. Am I getting anywhere?"

Seth closed his eyes, finally, and coughed. Choked. Sage's coils shifted to fold another loop over him, almost binding his arms together. It felt divine.

No, it was weird. It had to be.

But it felt good to be held.

"You never want to feel weak," Sage said. "You're... I'm gonna guess you always win whenever you compete, don't you? And you never complain if something hurts you."

"Yeah," Seth said, feeling Sage's coils fold tighter over him like a bedsheet in the morning when he was a teenager, when he had to get up and that necessity tempted him more. He didn't sob.

"Seth, over our time together today, I'm going to tell you the names we all have for these feelings you have... and we'll talk about your beliefs, Seth, that lead to these feelings, in later sessions. I think you may be..." Another laugh. Even softer. Even gentler. Sage's tail brushed Seth's hair out of his eyes - he'd forgotten to gel it, and it was soft. "This is such an understatement that it's comical, Seth. You're being too hard on yourself. There's a technical term we have for this kind of problem, but I'm not going to apply that label, here. It's a problem a lot of guys get...."

Seth sobbed, just once, but stilled himself, forced himself out of it. He manned up.

"There. That's it. That's exactly the problem." Sage's coils folded to hug Seth even tighter, one loop over his calves, one round his waist, and two more over his torso. His scales were soft, and smooth, and dry. "You see, when you push things away like you just did, they don't, really, go away. When you hide your pain from everyone - emotional pain - it stores up and intensifies. When you don't think about it, don't talk about it... well, that could lead to a breakdown, and you having no idea what's wrong. It pays to learn about this side of yourself, the same way it pays to learn about how your car works, or your boiler. With me so far?"

"Yes," Seth said, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself, like the ground was giving way.

"When you cry, you allow those feelings to have their time and leave you... Sorry, I know I'm holding you really tight right now, aren't I? It's, ahah, a little cold in here. Tell me if it's too much."

"I will," Seth lied. The therapist leaned forward a little, raising a scaled brow. "O-okay, I will, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Sage said, in such an exaggerated, teacherly tone it was clear he wouldn't. "I can actually tell when you're hurt, so I'll stop if it really does. I can tell you're getting more comfortable, but that you're not used to being comfortable. I can tell you're... relaxing. And trying not to. Seth."

"Sorry," Seth said.

"Look me in the eyes, Seth." Sage's eyes were... beautiful, now. Not just... what was it, that Seth had seen in there before, and needed, so much? "That's right - keep looking. I'm gonna... soothe you, a little. I'm going to let you... let yourself... sink... and relax. How does that sound?"

"Good," Seth whispered, despite himself.

"Nothing you say will leave this room, big guy. Nothing you feel will, either. And the word you're looking for is 'understanding'." Seth smiled widely. Very widely. Sage squeezed him, like a reward - and it flooded Seth with a feeling of belonging and safety. It wasn't like the looseness that came with being drunk. There was much more stability here in Sage's coils. "I think you're going to like being understood, big guy. I think you're going to have a much more enjoyable time learning to show yourself to those people you trust, so that they can understand you, too. You've built these walls around yourself, big guy, around your heart, and you've done it so long not even you can get in. But we're going to change all of that. You're going to be completely safe: you're going to learn how to become vulnerable when you wish to be."

Seth's breathing slowed, and he felt more of himself loosen up that had never been loose in the past. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do.

"Just listen... and believe me. Can you do that?"

Seth tilted his head.

"Can you believe me, Seth?" Sage's voice was so soft, and seemed to echo inside Seth's head while their eyes met. It was exquisite. Seth nodded, promising inside himself to believe what the serpent told him. "There's a good boy." Seth flushed, and breathed, and felt himself squeezed again, and the reward centres in his brain were overwhelmed once more with happiness and safety. "Your problems... if they're the kind I think they are, and I'm looking at them, so I know... are all to do with how we raise boys to try to prove to everyone around them that they're men."

Sage's tail coiled around Seth's neck, softly, like a living scarf. Or a friend.

"I bet you wanted to watch all the R-rated movies when you were a kid," said Sage, gently. "You wanted everyone to know how strong and tough you were."

Deadly Death, when he was 13. That was... something. He didn't feel like a man after that, like he thought he would.

"When we do that... when we chase after being men... we can lose what it's like to be a boy, right from under us, and believe that it's how boys are. I say we should let boys be boys, but that's for another time." The cobra-scarf snuggled in. "You want to prove to people around you that you're a man, Seth. You've taken this to heart, and you've been denying parts of yourself that, if you really think about it, don't have anything to do with whether you're a man or not... parts like your heart, and your sadness. Seth, you may be feeling this shame inside of you because you compare yourself to a 'real man'. A real man who is imaginary, who doesn't exist."

A tear slipped out of Seth's eye. Damnit.

"There you go."

And another, crawling down with a wide trail, like a damn slug.

"It's okay."

Seth tried to lean forward, and felt himself squeezed hard - squeezed like an old friend would squeeze you. Or a loving parent. He cried, gently, for a few safe moments, and Sage didn't speak for a long time. Not anything more substantial than saying "yes", "that's it", and "you're doing everything just fine, big guy."

"Please," Seth said, meaning he wanted something more, further, better.

"This is called relief, big guy. You get me? You let it out ... and it doesn't take control of you. I can't tell you what you've been feeling before you drink, Seth, but your soul's only going to get poisoned if you keep poison inside it. A real man, a real life actual man," and Sage squeezed even harder, hard enough to hurt if he wasn't so relaxed, "is in control of himself, and he has another role. For his friends and children. What role is that?"

"Protect," Seth gasped out.

"Yes, that's right. A man protects and nurtures those around him. Imagine, Seth... imagine you become a father, to a little, jumping, laughing, dancing child. Imagine that one day, when your child comes home from school, they're... distant. Upset. What do you do?"

Seth was silent. The spell in his head was fading a little now, but the amazing feeling of calmness and openness seemed to be there to stay.

"Lots of people differ in how they parent their kids," Sage continued, "but a lot of them would hug them, and let them know they can say if something's wrong. Some parents, they'd demand to know, and for some kids that could work. But in order to do all of that... any of that... you need to know what the feelings they have could be. You need to know your own emotions. Like a real boy. You need that vocabulary. And you can learn it, Seth. You have those same feelings inside of you, after all."

Seth nodded. The tears had all flowed out of him, and the end of Sage's tail wiped his cheeks dry. He met Sage's eyes again, and fell into their spell once more.

"Now. We're going to start... with you giving yourself permission to be vulnerable. To feel. Yesss..." Sage smiled, and Seth smiled, feeling he had pleased Sage. "Can you feel that? You're allowing yourself to open those doors in those walls in your heart and step through them." Seth felt something hard in his chest give way - open up, as it were. What had felt like a hard, stone floor beneath him had turned into a hard brick wall in front of him, and started to crumble. "Picture yourself walking through that outer door, through a tunnel, through those walls, like you're sneaking into a castle. I bet you loved playing explorer, when you were small, Seth."

"I did," Seth said, quietly.

"Good... imagine there's less and less light as you go further and further inside." Seth did. He saw, in Sage's eyes, the bricks in the walls around his heart going dark. "Eventually, you're going to have to feel your way around with your hands. And that's okay. You're home, here, after all, inside yourself. Feel the bricks - thin as clay." Thin as clay. "You're going to go through to yourself, and you're going to see how you feel, clear as day. The lights and darknesses and shapes of your heart."

Seth didn't visualise it so easily, now, given the dark, but he was there, and he felt it. The brick was cold on his hands and feet, and it was humid, too.

"Now, I want you to imagine your hand finds a big, wide, wooden door. Put your hands onto it. I want you to focus inside of you on what is or could be behind that door."

Seth imagined his hands flat against that old, gnarled door, and frowned. He could feel behind it, yes, and he could almost make out what he felt. It wasn't, really, anger.

"There's a handle on that door. The handle is also a lock. When you turn the handle, you'll open the lock, and you're going to feel a lot of things... and I'll be here, steadying you, the whole way. It won't completely close ever again. You've been overwhelmed by your emotions in the past, but they're not meant to do that. You can only control them by feeling them, big guy. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you," Seth murmured.

"Do you believe me...?"

"I believe you."

"Good. The handle is just above your left hand. Take hold of it." It was cold, and... rusted, from disuse. Seth turned it without waiting to be told, and the door opened, bringing warmth, flooding him with... light. Colours. Something else, something like being sick, but... "That's relief, too, and shame, and happiness, all at once. I'm here, big guy. Let it come out of you."

Seth didn't know what kind of noise he was making, but he was making it. He felt Sage's tail wipe his cheeks again.

"These are things you've pushed away, pushed down... and now that we're getting through your shames, I think there are other things you need to see, too. This - this feels solid, and good, and affectionate, Seth. Who are you thinking about?"

"Chris," Seth answered, too loud and too quiet.

"He seems like a wonderful friend to have, big guy." Sage's approval was intoxicating, and so was the image of Chris' face, Chris' smile. "It's okay to feel this for your friend. This is the kind of trust and love that happens between people who are close, close friends... and it's necessary for your life, and your health. You know that, don't you?"

Seth thought for a second, then nodded.

"You need friends, and family. And you need to help them like they help you. Chris knows, I think, how much he means to you - even though you haven't said, you've shown him. You just haven't shown yourself. Do so, now."

Seth focused on that feeling he had for Chris - there was a time, maybe yesterday, when he'd have gotten angry and scared if he focused on it, as though he was in love with Chris, possessively or lewdly. But he wasn't.

"I'm sending something easing in that head of yours, big guy. Tell me."

"I care about Chris a lot," Seth said, quietly. "I ... before, I would've... needed to...."

"To say you weren't trying to marry him or anything, right," the cobra hissed, soft, so soft, so gentle, so strong and harmless. "That's good. You know he already trusts you, big guy. You feel that certainty? That surety? I can feel you feeling it. Recognise it. This is strength, Seth. This is strength, and it's strengthening to know it. It's useful. It's good. You see how much better you feel focusing on this? Look around. Who else do you feel this for?"

"Niqua," Seth said, immediately. He saw his sister - and more memories of when they were little - and the fighting that wasn't fighting.

"Who's Niqua, Seth?"

"My sister," Seth replied, after a second, lost in the memory.

"It seems like you two love each other a lot, huh? That's good, too. Now. I want you to think back to before you wrote to me, big guy, and tell me how you felt the night they all asked you to seek help."

The emotional memory was faded, but the emotion itself was familiar. Seth focused on that, and brought it up, finding himself somehow able to conjure up any feeling necessary now that he was deeply hypnotised.

"There you go. That's... well, there's a word for that, but it's not as helpful as a descriptor. That's what we, you and I, are going to call 'indigestion'." Sage didn't tighten, but Seth realised in his hyper-aware state just how much structure the cobra's coils were providing him with, and how relaxed he himself was. "When you allow yourself your positive and negative emotions, they just are. When you tell them to others, especially those you trust, you manage - and they don't control you. There are schools of philosophy that say you are master of your every action, Seth, and I believe you have the freedom to master your own feelings, and your own head. But when you block everything up like you have, it'll hurt. Just like it did then."

"That's why they told me to come to you," Seth said.

"Possibly. You know them better than I do. I think there's a warmth inside you - and a great big heart, Seth, with room for many people. I think your friends can tell. You just need to not hurt yourself for sharing it. You don't need to be punished for having a soul." Sage's fingers lifted Seth's chin, to bring their eyes together again. Seth felt as though he was being cleansed, then, while Sage's eyes worked their magic further and further into him. Like he was in a deep and hot bath, and every toxin and worry inside him was being taken away. "This is what it feels like to just relax, Seth. You're going to be doing a lot more relaxation in the future, as we work together more. I don't expect this to be an immediate recovery, but you're only gonna get stronger and stronger as you accept yourself, okay, big guy?"

"Okay, Sage," Seth sighed.

"Now, I'm going to count up from zero to ten, and you're gonna walk right back up into conscious awareness with me. Are you okay doing that? You won't stop feeling your love for Chris, Seth."

"I'm okay to wake up, Sage," Seth said, smiling.

"Okay. Now. Zero..." Sage kept his finger on Seth's chin even as he loosened his coils' hold, and allowed the man's own posture and muscles to take control again. The sense of looseness and relief on being unwrapped was incredible. He felt as though he could just fall down onto Sage and sleep forever. Or snuggle forever. Or something. It was incredibly good. It was like sleep itself - like waking from the deepest sleep he'd ever slept. "...and ten. Wide awake, big guy. You're here again."

Seth wiped his cheeks - they were a little damp, and smelled of Sage, who was in truth the source of the soft woody smell in the office. He felt more refreshed than he ever had.

"Thanks, doc."

"Sage."

"Thanks, Sage." Seth squeezed the end of Sage's tail, as if shaking it. "You've... thank you. I'm..."

"I know. You're gonna be happy more often, big guy. As your therapist, I'm going to ask you to do something for me before our next session."

"What's that?" Seth looked up at Sage - whose eyes weren't as mystically amazing as before, and were now behind glasses. Wide awake, Seth was not so possessed of the need to please Sage - rather, he wanted his wisdom.

"Tell a couple of your closest friends - possibly Chris or Niqua, or someone else, your call - that your therapist wants you to acknowledge your emotions more. I want you to try to tell them how you feel about them. Even if they joke about it, or give you a bit of a hard time, it's gonna be good for you, big guy."

Seth felt a little bit of fear - and let that happen, and it faded. He felt no relapse from this. No whiplash. No need to kick it down. Just acknowledgement, and now, control over himself.

He nodded to the snake.

"I can do that."

"Good. I'm gonna get an early lunch, now," Sage said, slyly, "because you turned up about an hour early."