A/N: TW/ this story contains references to depression and depressive thoughts, please be advised. Take care and enjoy!
-e-
People are always so quick to tell you you have so much potential but really that's just code for 'you're currently a shitty waste of space and with some grooming, you could be a human I'd maybe stand next to on a train.'
"All personal items here, please."
It's easy to have friends when you're willing to do any and everything they want you to at all times. The second, the second you disagree, you're being unreasonable. But I guess, what are the chances everyone you meet is a shit friend, it's probably just your fault.
"If you have any weapons, sharp items, medications and the like, please surrender them now."
God forbid you have a hobby or interest that your peers find nonsensical, you may as well hang a big sign on your back that says 'kick my ass, I deserve it and while you're at it please never talk to me, I'd bring the whole mood down'.
'I'm just trying to help' is code for 'You're pathetic. I'd listen if I were you.'
'No offense' means 'of course this is offensive, but I'm gonna say it anyway and if you don't want to be offended then maybe you should be more normal'.
And 'I'm worried about you, Quentin' when it falls from Julia's lips as she cuts off another Fillory conversation means 'for the millionth time, Quentin, get a fucking life.'
"Name?"
"Quentin Coldwater," I say between thoughts. My mouth is dry.
"Are you visiting or checking in?"
I take a deep breath. I'm not nervous, just overwhelmed by the fact that I belong here. I give my answer.
"Checking in."
-e-
I can't stop writing Magicians fic so enjoy the fruits of my sleepless nights. Let me know what you think, the first chapter should be up tomorrow!