It takes Kendall a long time to step into the room.

He's pretty sure the woman with the red hair, the one talking about addiction, noticed him a long time before he felt like being noticed. If she did, she doesn't say anything, merely smiles, "Take a seat." She gestures to the circle of chairs, a good many of them full, but a good many of them empty as well. Kendall picks one beside a blonde girl who's smoothing her skirt and looking down as if she's nervous.

"I was just getting to the good part," The woman says, "I'm Sherry."

"Kendall." He answers and smiles back at her, although it's hard to, "Glad I made it." He tries to sound casual, but his heart is hammering in his chest. A few people look at him curiously, sizing him up, as if they can guess what's wrong just by appearance. He sticks his hands under his thighs and continues to watch Sherry, because he's not going to let himself be bothered by a few people making assumptions.

"As I was saying," Sherry turns back to the group as a whole, "I found a support group a lot like this one and got help, a lot of help, and that experience was what made me decide to start a support group of my own." She smiles and doesn't even look ashamed that she was once an addict too, "I've never been happier." She declares sincerely. Kendall smiles and pulls his hands free so he can clap with everyone else. He's disappointed that he seemed to have missed the important details, i.e. Sherry's addiction, but it was hard enough getting to the meeting late. He can't imagine getting there on time.

And besides, he'll have time to ask her later.

Getting better is all about learning after all.

"Now," Sherry says briskly and leans back in her chair, "I'm sure you're all wondering about the content of this group. I mean, the people."

Everyone nods, because it's true that the content is a little odd. Kendall's never been to a support group before, but even he's certain that they're not supposed to be so diverse. There are different groups for different things, things like sex addicts and drug addicts, everyone has their own support group. But not everyone here is addicted to the same thing, he can already tell, because some of them have the teeth of smokers while others have the look of heroin or coke addicts. Aside from that, there's a guy who's eying everyone with a slightly predatory look, much like he's planning on ravaging them all. Kendall can only guess he's a sex addict. Why all the different people?

"When I was addicted, I went to a support group in a small church like this one," Sherry answers the question with a soft smile, "I had the best leader and the best people," She looks at them all in turn, as if she's sizing them up, "I don't like exclusive groups," She says, "I want us all to see every side of addiction possible."

"Addiction isn't a one sided thing," She says pointedly, "It's a many headed monster and that monster is looking in a bunch of fun house mirrors that are turning it into something else."

Her analogy, oddly enough, makes sense.

"What you see when you look in the mirror is a nicotine addiction, or an alcohol addiction, but what you might not see is a gambling addiction. Drug addicts can't understand the temptation of internet addiction, but in that same way, they can understand addiction." She shakes her head, "I mean, we can all see each other as addicts, but we can't see addictions as addictions unless they're our own, understand?"

No, Kendall thinks, but then again he kind if does.

"I like being diverse because we can help each other more when we're not being tempted by the same thing. A coke addict helping a coke addict, well, that's like a blind man leading another blind man through a forest. A coke addict helping a porn addict has a better success rate. In my opinion." She adds almost as an afterthought and leans forward in her chair, "That's why I like diversity; because we can help more when we're not distracted."

The room goes quiet as people take a moment to think about the words, roll them over and over until they make sense, and Sherry leans back in her chair. She gives them a few minutes to take it in, watching them all with a smile and a satisfied expression. It's clear she's doing what she wants with her life, even if she's not getting paid for it. Kendall can only vaguely understand her love of the job, even though he's a caring person. It just doesn't seem like a very rewarding job, especially if all of your addicts fail, or maybe only one of them doesn't.

The girl beside him has stopped twisting her skirt, "Do you know what time it is?" She asks politely and Kendall glances down at his watch.

"It's seven." He says back and she smiles at him. The guy with the predatory look watches them closely, like he's jealous or just really interested in what's going to happen. Kendall tries to ignore him because, even as one addict to another, the guy freaks him out a little bit.

"Thanks."

Sherry seems to have noted the sudden fall of thinking and rise of conversation, because she clears her throat and gains everyone's attention again, "Let's introduce ourselves." She says and motions to the guy with the predatory look, who merely blinks back at her and doesn't say anything, "Say your name, addiction, and how long you've been addicted." She says coaxingly and the guy rolls his eyes. Kendall begins to hate him.

"Jett." He says curtly, "Sex addict." A small, satisfied grin, "Since I was thirteen." It's clear he's sparing them all the dirty details, which Kendall is more than a little thankful for. He doesn't want to hear about Jett's sex life anymore than he wants to hear about his grandparents'. Sherry smiles and welcomes Jett to the group, telling him he's doing the right thing by seeking help. Kendall tunes her out as she moves on to the next person, and the next, and the next.

He catches bits and pieces, some names and some addictions, gathering that there are a good many smokers and one video game addict.

There's another sex addict.

There's a food addict.

When it's his turn he opens his mouth, wondering how best to begin, but suddenly someone's knocking on the door and all the heads in the room turn towards the source of the disruption. Kendall is taken aback by the figure in the doorway, a well dressed guy about his own age with brown hair and pale skin, who's busy typing away on an iPhone and doesn't seem to care that he's being watched. With an ease like someone used to walking and sitting with their eyes directed at a screen, he finds the empty seat on the right side of Kendall and glances up. Chocolate eyes look both sorry and not sorry at all.

"Am I late?" His cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink, "I didn't mean to be late."

"That's okay," Sherry reassures him, "We're just glad you're here."

The guy smiles back at her and Kendall's heart melts, because this guy is utterly gorgeous. He tries to look away, but he can't seem to control himself. He's honestly surprised his jaw hasn't hit the floor. He's also surprised that someone as put together as this guy would be here of all places, but then again looks can be deceiving. After all, he likes to think he doesn't look like much of an addict either.

"We were on Kendall," Sherry is explaining to the guy, who's clearly trying to avoid looking at his phone, "So we'll come back to you in a second."

"Okay."

"Kendall?" Sherry looks at him and Kendall has to tear his eyes away from the guy, who is now back on his phone. Kendall finds this rude, but this is an addict's meeting, so he can't really say it's not expected.

"I'm Kendall," He says and his fingers drum on his thigh, "I've been addicted to cutting since my dad left seven years ago." He finishes and doesn't look away from Sherry, because he's not going to look weak. Sure, it's affected him a lot, but it's not like he's any more ashamed of it than Sherry was of her addiction. At this point, he's desensitized himself to just how the word "cutting" sounds when it rolls off your tongue.

"Nice to meet you, Kendall," Sherry gives him a genuine smile, soft and warm, "I'm glad you could make it."

"Yeah, me too." He agrees and the guy looks up, not really surprised that it's his turn, so he must have been paying attention, however little.

"Logan." He says, glancing down at his shoes, "This wasn't my idea." He defends himself, almost petulantly, but with enough force to make it sound like he honestly doesn't know why he's in an orange, plastic chair in a small church with a bunch of addicts and a woman with red hair. His iPhone vibrates and he glances down at it, "It was my friend's."

"Why did your friend think this would be a good idea?" Sherry presses gently.

Logan looks back up at her, pink back in his cheeks, "He thinks I'm addicted to work."

"Well," Sherry says simply, "Are you?"

"No." Logan states vehemently, then drops his eyes back to his phone, "I am not."

"Who's that?"

"What?"

"On your phone." Sherry tilts her head towards the iPhone and Logan looks confused, "Is that your friend?"

"No." Logan says, like it's an odd question to ask, "This is my boss."

And maybe he realizes how bad it sounds, because he winces and looks back down at his shoes, "This wasn't my idea." He repeats miserably and Sherry smiles sympathetically. Instead of interrogating Logan further, she moves on to the next person. The girl beside Kendall looks up and rolls her eyes towards the ceiling.

"My name is Jo and I'm addicted to smoking."

"Nice to meet you Jo," Sherry says, "It's good that you're seeking help."

Beside Kendall, Logan's phone vibrates.