The things we don't say
This is a short spin-off of "A cup of coffee with the therapist" that I wrote a few months ago. It's supposed to be set between part 5 and 6. Don't expect a long thing - it's short and kinda sad, so be warned!
Kenneth’s flat was cheap. Kenneth’s flat was small.
Day after day the white tiger tended to his clients, trying not to grow sufficiently aware of the fact that he wouldn’t be going out. Again. Between clients, he’d walk from wall to wall as if trying to measure his flat in steps. Twenty-seven. He got used to doing stuff, even if it didn’t need doing. He’d lost count of the times he’d rearranged the books on the shelves, wiped every surface clean, showered more than once in the day.
Sometimes he’d just sit in front of the window, arms dangling out. He’d smoke something if he’d only got into smoking at the right time, with the right people, with the right friends. But the situation had never happened. Not enough time, not enough friends. So he couldn’t smoke.
Kenneth looked at the people down there, having fun. Groups of friends meeting each other, chatting, going places. He lived in the middle of the city, but he felt like he lived far from everything. Emptier and emptier every morning. More disconnected. White noise inside his white tiger head.
We’ve talked about this before, he’d think sometimes, staring back at his reflection on the mirror. You’re spiraling, and not the right way. You have to stop yourself from doing that.
Videogames. Films. Books.
Social media.
He went over the same old things over and over. He’d beat his favorite Fire Emblem titles more than twenty times. He’d watched his favorite film to the point where he didn’t even feel anything anymore just by watching it. He’d read all The Wheel Of Time books several times. He could quote paragraphs by heart.
And social media was always the same, anyway.
The only times Kenneth felt like more than a looping song was when he was actually interacting with someone, when clients came. He’d built that wall in order not to feel any more than he was allowed to feel – just a functioning machine, as opposed to a rusting machine – enough to feel like a person, not enough to feel happy or invested or dependent.
Fosk was the exception to that, of course. He’d noticed soon enough that he’d feel differently with the black wolf in front of him. Not only because he was cute when that blush hit his cheeks or because he smelled nice.
It was just that whenever Kenneth looked at him he believed, for once, someone could take all that swirling void inside him and make some sense out of it. Even if Kenneth was the one supposed to make sense out of the void inside Fosk, sometimes he looked at him and thought…
Well, perhaps this can work both ways.
“Do you go out frequently?” the white tiger had asked him during the last session.
“Uh, sometimes. I mean, it’s not like I have the most hectic social life, but I go out from time to time.” The black wolf had scratched the back of his head. “I guess I haven’t really gone out lately… Been mostly staying home like a hermit.”
If you only knew, Kenneth had thought then.
“I have next Thursday off and I don’t even know what to do,” Fosk had said.
“Well, perhaps I can come up with a plan for you,” Kenneth had mentioned casually. “And then you’ll have something to look forward to.”
The wolf’s eyes had seemed to gleam with enthusiasm. Either that or they were still glassy after the session.
“What? Really?”
His cheeks had turned red again. Kenneth had smiled gently as if he was the one doing Fosk a favor.
“Sure! I mean, if hanging out with your therapist sounds like something you want to do.”
“I’ll consider it,” Fosk had agreed, tilting his head. “It sounds weird when you put it like that, but I think we’re both past that barrier now.”
“Fair enough.”
Kenneth lived in the middle of the city but it turned out he knew nothing about the city he lived in, so there wasn’t like he couldn’t come up with many plans.
There was this hypnosis show he’d seen advertised, and perhaps taking Fosk there would be a good idea. But that wouldn’t be that Thursday, but a few weeks in the future. It was a nice thing to do, but it couldn’t be done in the present. He looked for plans on the internet, but he could only see either museums or clubs. While Fosk could potentially look like the kind of wolf that would find a museum entertaining, Kenneth didn’t really want him to think he was boring or pretentious.
And clubs were completely out of the question. Fosk was too shy for that.
Kenneth’s flat was cheap. Kenneth’s flat was small. Perhaps it was even cozy, when he wasn’t receiving people in his office.
That idea felt much better. Maybe they could have a movie night or a videogame night, just lying on the couch next to each other, chatting about whatever they needed to chat… and off-session, which would be somewhat freeing for the tiger. The more he considered the idea, the more he liked it.
The tiger made sure he bought plenty of snacks for the night. He wasn’t entirely sure what Fosk liked, besides coffee. It was the only thing he’d watched him had. Just in case, he bought plenty of decaf and different kinds of soda, chips and gummies. He also had an un-opened ice cream box in the freezer, just in case. And fortunately, he’d brought his collection of videogames and films from his hometown.
So hopefully, they wouldn’t run out of things to do.
Thursday came and Kenneth practically dispatched his last client getting ready for the visit. He brewed a whole coffee pot of decaf and placed all the cushions and blankets he had in his small, old couch, hoping it’d look more comfortable that way. The tiger had bought new LED lights a few weeks ago and he made sure they looked as cozy as possible, setting them for orange, warm light.
The tiger picked a gummy and chewed on it.
“How’s your Thursday going?” he asked to Fosk. They had exchanged mobile phones a few weeks ago. “Still bored?”
There was a trap hidden in his words, like a hidden arrow just poking out of a wall in a fantasy dungeon, and it was aiming straight at Kenneth. He should have seen it coming, but he’d lost sight of the wall, the dungeon and everything just so he could fill that void with something other than noise and empty routine.
“Less bored than I thought,” Fosk had replied. “Hanging out with some friends.”
Then, immediately afterwards, he’d typed.
“Wanna come?”
Kenneth had stopped chewing on the gummy as if it’d suddenly turned sour. His thumb hovered over the screen on his mobile phone, wondering what he should type in response. It wasn’t like Fosk had said he would hang out with him. He’d said he’d consider it, and only because he didn’t have any other plans.
“Won’t it be weird to introduce me to your friends as your therapist?” he’d replied in the end.
Fosk’s answer had taken a few seconds. Meanwhile, Kenneth was thinking to himself that none of this would be happening if he’d only told him what he was planning the day before.
“Maybe. Do you want to tell them? I don’t think they need to know.”
The self-destructive streak in Kenneth decided to read that message and not type anything back, even though he was obviously aware that Fosk would know that.
Sitting on the couch, the white tiger pushed some cushions aside – there were too many, anyway – and grabbed some snacks with his open paw. He licked greasy butter remnants off his claws as he fumbled for the controller, which he’d lost among the blankets, and decided to play the same movie again so that he could watch it again feeling nothing again. And then he’d wake up again tomorrow, feeling emptier than the day before, even if he knew deep inside that he was spiraling as usual, overreacting to a small, to the smallest, to the dumbest inconvenience that didn’t necessarily need to mean anything, because those things never actually meant anything, because that’s what inconveniences were – things that happened when you didn’t intend them to and that had no other meaning than them happening and they weren’t his fault, or Fosk’s fault, and by all means not Fosk’s friends’ fault.
But emptier.
The night was warm outside and people were having fun.
Kenneth had a whole coffee pot of decaf to himself.