A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry about the late update! I joined a show and practices have been killer for me, especially since the kids have been acting up lately at home. Fortunately, they are with their mom for a few days, so I hope I can update faster. I'm also currently sick, which means more time to myself that I can use to write! That said, please enjoy this next installment of Disenchanted, and tell me what you think!

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Arthur woke the next morning with a feeling a dread weighing him down to his bed. He had to push himself to get out of his bed, and even then it took a lot of effort to get him out on the scale to be weighed. His mind and heart were dreading the conversation he was to have with Dr. Wang later that day. It was enough to throw his entire morning off.

"You okay over there?" Alfred asked his roommate as he changed into his day clothes. "It seems like you're pained or something. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," his roommate answered, giving a weak nod. "There is just a lot on my mind this morning. I'm not looking forward to seeing the doctor today. He's going to make me start talking about what brought me here in the first place." Arthur cringed. "This is going to be dreadful."

Alfred frowned a bit as he adjusted his glasses, which had gone crooked while he pulled his shirt over his head. "Dude, I'm so sorry. That sounds pretty killer. I mean, we both know that needs to be done, but still…"

Arthur grimaced. "This is all just going to be a bloody pain in the arse," he grumbled. "I was such an idiot. Did I really have to go that far? Why did I shoot myself over something so trivial? My impulsivity is the reason that I'm here. I'm such a fuck-up. No wonder Mum told me not to bother coming home."

There was a thud across the room as Alfred dropped his sneaker in shock. "Wait, your mom said what to you?" he incredulously asked.

"She disowned me after I shot myself," the green-eyed man sighed. "Apparently my attempted suicide brought disgrace to my family. I got a call once I started healing, and she told me not to ever bother coming back to London, because I no longer had family there."

"That's fucked up!" Alfred raged, getting angry for his roommate's sake. "What kind of fucking high horse does your mom ride anyway? Someone needs to knock her off of it! You should never disown your own child for something that they can't help! Mental illness is real, and it's serious. It claims just as many lives as cancer and all of those other 'serious' illnesses." He took a moment to take a few deep breaths to calm down. "You know what, Arthur? If you don't have a family to return to, then just be a part of mine. I'm sure Matt and Mia won't mind. Our mom has always showed love toward our friends. You will be welcomed as one of us."

Arthur's eyes filled with tears as he looked at Alfred. "I couldn't impose like that," he softly replied. "Besides, the loss of my family isn't all that much of a loss. I was never close with any of them anyway." He turned away. "I'll be just fine by myself. I would hate to bring your family any grief on my account."

As much as Alfred wanted to argue about Arthur's point of view, he resolved to stay quiet. After putting a lot of thought into his reply, he finally spoke. "If you ever decide to change your mind on that, you will always be welcome with us."

The Englishman absently nodded to show that he had heard. "Thank you, Alfred. I really do appreciate it." He then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, ending the conversation with that.

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Dr. Wang placed a hand on the back of Arthur's recliner. "Good afternoon, Arthur," he greeted. "Shall we go talk now?"

Arthur felt his blood run cold as his heart dropped into his stomach. This was it, the moment he had been dreading. He attempted to gulp down his anxiety as he stood. "I guess," he replied in a shaky voice. His body trembled as he walked alongside Dr. Wang to the small meeting room at the end of the hall. Three medical students occupied a few of the chairs in the room.

Once situated in their seats, Dr. Wang turned to the patient. "Are you ready to begin?" he asked. His dark eyes focused on the Englishman. He took Arthur's silence as a go ahead and slowly began his examination. "Could you please tell us, in your words, what brought you here?"

"You really don't beat around the bush, do you?" the blond groaned. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I was betrayed by someone I loved, and it destroyed me, so…" His voice trailed off for a moment. "I shot myself in the head and somehow lived to tell," Arthur grudgingly finished. He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing a glare on his shoes. "Is there anything else you demand to know?"

A young female student looked up from her small notebook. Her violet eyes seemed to pierce into Arthur's conscience. She grabbed her pen from where it was clipped to her name badge that read "Sophia Edelstein". "Hello, Arthur, I'm Dr. Edelstein," she gingerly greeted, voice quiet. "Would you mind telling me exactly where you shot yourself? I understand that this is quite personal for you, but from a doctor's standpoint, it's important to know."

The patient's heart sunk in his chest. He slowly made a gun with his fingers and placed it under his chin, pointing upwards. "Is that good enough for you?" he solemnly asked. "They surgically removed the bullet from my sinuses." Arthur sighed. "Or should I rather say that my very own classmates removed the bullet from my sinuses?"

"That must have been horrific for you to discover," Dr. Edelstein sympathized, a deep sadness in her eyes. "You must have been humiliated."

Arthur stared down at the carpeted floor, oblivious to Dr. Wang's scolding of Dr. Edelstein. "I was," he replied. "It was utterly devastating to me. I dropped out of uni once I had fully regained my senses. There is no way I could face my classmates after that. And there isn't a snowball's chance in Hell that I could ever even dare to stand before Fra- him - again." His voice nearly cut out when he attempted to speak Francis's name aloud. As he thought, just the name of his past lover was too painful to speak. "I really am a failure. I've accepted it. Everything I have ever worked for in life is gone now. There's nothing left for me."

"Is that what you truly believe?" Dr. Wang indifferently asked. "Or could it be that you are led to believe that simply because we are currently discussing a difficult topic?"

That last question made Arthur stop and think for a moment. Was that why he suddenly felt so negative? Was there really no other explanation? If that really were the way his thinking worked, it made him feel quite petty.

Taking Arthur's thoughtful silence as an answer, Dr. Wang continued, "Your silence, to me, means that you know that you really are capable of many things. You just need to find a new way to express your abilities. What do you think are some things you can do to try to move forward from here on out?"

Arthur took a deep breath as he thought. "For starters, I should cut everything from my life that had to do with him, don't you think?" He gazed up at the ceiling as he thought, highly aware of the fact that four pairs of eyes were focused on him. "I could also start looking into making music like I used to. That always lifted my spirits whenever I needed it." A hum escaped his throat as he thought a little more. "I'm sure I could think of more things when not put on the spot."

Dr. Wang chuckled. "You're probably right," he agreed. "I apologize for that, Arthur." He scribbled down some notes on the piece of paper in his hand. "When not thinking of him, how do you feel? I noticed that your mood has increased a lot since you first arrived on the unit."

"My mood varies on most occasions," Arthur decided. "But the thing I find most surprising about it is the intensity of every mood I feel. It's as if I feel everything to the extreme or not at all. I hate it, and it makes me feel as if something is wrong with me. Then again, that's just the way everyone feels about things of that sort, correct?" He smiled to himself. "I'm more than likely overreacting."

"Interesting," Dr. Wang stated, scribbling furiously on his small piece of paper. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions then?"

"Haven't you already been doing that?"

"Arthur, tell me something," the doctor began, looking up at his patient. "When those you once trusted let you down, how do you react?"

Arthur's thoughts immediately went to his own mother. He swallowed hard, remembering what she had told him about never coming home. "I want nothing to do with them," he slowly said, guilt weighing in on his words. "It's not like they want anything to do with me, so why should I bother?"

Dr. Wang nodded to himself as he wrote. "Arthur, do you often feel as if you should hurt others before they can hurt you?"

The patient blinked in surprise, realizing that the doctor had put his internal feelings into words. "Get out of my head, doc," he sighed. "How is it that you seem to know more about me after a couple months than my own family has known for over twenty-three years?"

"Do you ever get impulsive and do things on a whim that can be harmful to yourself or others?" Dr. Edelstein asked, tapping her chin with her pen.

Arthur pointed to his hospital ID bracelet. "Um, duh," he replied, as if that answer were common knowledge. He watched as every doctor in the posse began to write on their pieces of paper. "What?" he asked. "Are all of you coming to a collective conclusion on my condition or something?"

After a few moments of writing, Dr. Wang looked up from his paper. "It seems to me that you show common symptoms of a mental illness known as Borderline Personality Disorder," he finally stated aloud. "A more proper term for the disorder would be Emotional Intensity Disorder, but it's not like we can change the name of the disorder until after the people who named it have died out." The doctor took a deep breath. "Though it isn't talked about all the time, BPD is quite common, especially in young adults. Although no medication is known to treat it, there are other ways. Might I refer you to a group therapy designed specifically for BPD upon your discharge?"

"Hold on a moment," Arthur insisted, still lost at the diagnosis. "I have what now? A personality disorder? I don't believe I quite follow. Sure, I get depressed on occasion and struggle with my mood at times, but I don't think I have a personality disorder, Dr. Wang."

"It's more of an emotional disorder," the doctor corrected. "You show many of the common symptoms of it."

The blond shook his head. "Don't just randomly diagnose me with something like this just because you're getting paid to do so," he stated. "I'm only here because I tried to kill myself, which I'll even admit was a stupid thing to do. I don't need you trying to get me in some stupid support group or whatever, just because it will get the hospital more money. There is nothing terribly wrong with me, other than the fact that I have to relearn to eat. That's all there is to it. Don't try to diagnose me with something like a personality disorder just because I'm still here after all this time. The moment I'm well again, I'm out of here. I've had quite enough of hospitals and medicines. Since I'm no longer going to be a surgeon, I have no more need for hospitals after this is all through."

"Arthur, what exactly are you talking about?" Dr. Wang asked. "I don't believe I follow."

"I'm not going to allow you to use me to get more money for the psych department here," the Englishman stated, enunciating nearly every syllable. "Do I make myself clear? I refuse to allow you to diagnose me with some disorder I've never heard of just because I have a symptom or two." He rose from his seat. "If you think you can instantly diagnose me with something so ridiculous on a whim, then you don't deserve to be a doctor in the first place." With that, Arthur left the room in a fit of rage.

Dr. Wang looked over at Dr. Edelstein. "That right there is classic Borderline denial. If you were to diagnose someone with this illness in the future, please be prepared for reactions of this nature as well as acceptance."

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"Who does Dr. Wang think he is anyway?" Arthur fumed, pacing in his and Alfred's room that night. Though the two were supposed to be preparing for bed, the Englishman was too angry to sleep. "What gives him the right to decide what's going on in my head?"

Alfred poked his head out of the attached bathroom. "I think he was just trying to come up with a solution for you," he said around the toothbrush in his mouth. "It's possible that it's a misdiagnosis. Psychiatric science is pretty imperfect, you see. People get misdiagnosed all the time. It's pretty common. I wouldn't dwell on it if I were you."

"I researched this Borderline Personality Disorder and read the symptoms," Arthur continued, as if Alfred hadn't spoken a word. "Apparently fast and passionate relationships is another thing about it. It says relationships are more heated and sexually progress faster with this illness. Can you believe that?"

The other patient took off his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt. "I mean, we really did progress quickly in ours," he said, an indifferent tone in his voice. "What's so bad about having BPD anyway? Amelia has it."

"Why are you suddenly taking Dr. Wang's side of it?" the green-eyed man asked, whirling around to face Alfred. "Do you still harbor feelings for him or something? Disgusting," he spat, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting on the edge of his bed. "Why bother with me when you can just get back together with him?"

"Now you're just being overdramatic," Alfred laughed. He left the bathroom and put a hand on Arthur's head, lovingly ruffling his hair. "I wouldn't go back to Yao, even if someone paid me. Honestly, I think you should go to sleep and think about this stuff tomorrow. Maybe you should talk it over with your nurse as well. It's not like there's anything you can do about it at this moment anyway." His strong arms pushed Arthur down onto his bed and covered him with his blanket. "Just get some rest and sort it all our tomorrow."

"Easy for you to say," Arthur grumbled. "You're just here for health reasons more than anything."

"Yup, sure sure," his roommate replied, letting Arthur's insulting words fall on deaf ears. He knew the other man didn't really mean them. "I'm just here because I need to learn to eat properly." His mouth formed into a smile as he kissed Arthur's forehead. "Pretty pathetic of me, huh?"

It was at that moment when Arthur realized how hurtful his previous comment really was. His cheeks flushed a bright red as he pulled his blanket up over his face. "I'm sorry, Alfred," he quietly said. "My comment was uncalled for."

"It's fine," the other patient insisted. "It'll take a lot more than just that to get me down." He forced a smile. "I know you didn't mean it anyway. I'm used to people saying things like that." Alfred turned off the overhead light, leaving the two in mostly darkness, except for the small light over his bed. "If I let everything people said to me get to me, I'd live a pretty sad life, don't you think so?"

"I suppose so," Arthur agreed, laying back on his bed and getting comfortable. "Though I still need to apologize when I'm in the wrong. It's only right that I do so." He stared up at the ceiling. "Al, do you think Dr. Wang is correct in his diagnosis of me?" he slowly asked after thinking for a moment.

"It's hard to say," his roommate responded, preparing his bed. "Every case of mental illness is different. Say two people were diagnosed with depression at the same time. Do you believe that they would feel the same and be triggered by identical things?"

"Not at all," the Englishman replied, shaking his head, gaze still fixed on the ceiling. For him, it was easier to talk about these things if he didn't have to look at his conversational partner.

"There are many different types of each illness," Alfred continued. "Some come along accompanied by other illnesses, whereas some appear all on their own. Some are trauma induced, and some are genetic. They're all unique to the mind of their victim, Arthur. Even if you do turn out to have BPD, it's not like I'll see you as anything but Arthur Kirkland. You can't let a diagnosis make or break you. After all, you're the same person you were before a label was slapped on your feelings, right?"

Arthur felt calmed by Alfred's kind words. "I suppose you are right about that," he decided. "I'm still Arthur, even if I have a mental illness. It's not like anything about that has changed. There is just a name for what I have been feeling is all."

"Exactly." The blue-eyed man laid back on his bed and reached for the lightswitch above his headboard. "You're still Arthur, and nothing will ever change that. Don't let something like a diagnosis get you too down. No matter what, you're still you. The diagnosis just means that they can figure out how to help you easier." He yawned and turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. "Try not to consider it a label of consequence, but more as a path toward feeling better."

Even after Alfred fell asleep, Arthur thought about what he had said. It was true that nothing had changed about Arthur, but getting a diagnosis of that caliber worried him. If people outside of the hospital ever found out about the diagnosis, how would they view him? What would Jiri and Alena think?

His mind then ventured into a dark area that he had tried to suppress the entire time he had been inpatient. What would Francis say if he found out about this new diagnosis? Would he laugh at him, scoff in his direction, say horrible things about him? Arthur felt his mind going haywire over all of the possibilities.

In his life, he had never felt such a strong stigma. Was this how the patients here felt every day of their lives? He felt as if his heart were being tightly squeezed by some unknown force. Did everyone with a mental illness live in fear of the judgement of others, or was it just him? His thoughts made him feel more alone that he had ever felt in his life as an emptiness crept its way into his being. What was going on with him? Was this normal? What even was "normal" anyway? Never in his life had he ever felt so empty and useless.

Trying to follow Alfred's advice, he curled tightly into a ball and squeezed his eyes shut. All he needed to do was sleep and think about everything tomorrow. He forced his body into a fitful slumber, from which he didn't wake up feeling rested at all.

Deep inside, he was terrified that this sort of thing would become his life from then on out.

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"You need to eat," a male tech stated to Arthur. "Everyone else on the program is waiting on you. I can't let you waste their time like this."

Arthur looked up from the spoon that he had previously been using to stir his yogurt around for the past ten minutes. "What was that?" he asked, a dazed look in his eyes. "Did you say something?"

Alfred sighed from across the table. "Do you mind eating your yogurt instead of playing with it?" he asked for the tech. "We kinda have a busy schedule that we need to follow every day, you know? It would help if you could just eat so we can all go about our lives, Arthur."

"You have a point," Arthur grumbled to himself before shoving a spoonful into his mouth. He then hurriedly ate the rest of it in no time, though his mind remained elsewhere.

For the remainder of the morning, Arthur seemed in a daze, though he couldn't figure out if it was because he was still in shock over his diagnosis or because he didn't sleep well the night before. Whatever it was, it had Arthur acting strangely, and Alfred didn't seem too happy about it.

"Arthur, are you ready to come speak with us again today?" Dr. Edelstein asked, placing a hand on his recliner.

"Where is Dr. Wang?" the Englishman asked, looking up at her. "Is he here today? I have some things I wish to speak with him about."

"He's here," she answered. "I was the one who was sent to fetch you. He has a few more notes to write down on the previous patient, so I came for you instead. Does that bother you?"

"Not at all," he indifferently replied. Arthur stood from his recliner and began walking down the hallway toward the small TV room with Dr. Edelstein. "I guess a change or two is nice on occasion, though I'm honestly not too fond of change."

"I understand," the doctor replied. "I will be sure to keep that in mind in the future." She opened the door to the small TV room and gestured inside. "Here we are, Arthur. Have a seat, and we will begin with today's check in."