Ultimate Amiss XIV

Sorry this chapter took so long to come out. I kept rewriting parts of it.

"One track mind. One track heart."

His fingers twitched at his side as the word suicide was spoken once again. Just what did he have to do to convince them that he hadn't tried to kill himself? Why were they so convinced that was the only possibility in the first place?

Sure, there had been no one else there to witness what really happened, but at the same time he couldn't remember what had happened either. So it's not like there was any proof either way, unless they were taking his silence - his behavior - as proof. He scowled at the plaque on the wall of the psychiatrist's office. Was that it? Did they think he was lying about not knowing because he didn't want to admit to attempting to kill himself? What a load of horseshit. He hadn't done anything in the past to make them think he would do that, did he?

Hajime glanced at his parents from the corner of his eye.

They were sitting to his left, listening intently while the psychiatrist spoke about what to do to avoid other instances 'like this.' It had happened once- No, it hadn't happened at all. They were all just jumping to a conclusion without any evidence to point to it. Or they were simply making up evidence from who-knows-where.

He gave a snort when the psychiatrist said, "It's not uncommon for people to just randomly commit suicide. Sometimes the pressure of work, social relations, and school just get to be too much. There are signs usually of a person thinking of turning to suicide, but other times it's sudden. The latter happens most often when the person just went through something traumatic, a relative died, something important in their life changed suddenly. Like breaking up with a girlfriend. There are many reasons that can lead to people wanting to kill themselves. You just need to see the signs-" causing his parents and the doctor to glance at him. It's not like they weren't aware that he was here. He simply had ignored them since being told he had to come here and listen to the psychiatrist talk about suicide. Sure, he had answered a few questions - alone in this very room, for privacy - before refusing to speak further and tuning his parents out a second later when they had also entered the room; but that was it.

His parents had been the ones asking the questions for awhile now while the psychiatrist informed them of 'the situation.' By all accounts it looked like he was taking the same route as the doctors back at the hospital had. Of course he was, given the same diluted information as everyone else. If he just had a witness so everyone knew he didn't try to kill himself like he kept telling them...

His gaze dropped from his parents and the psychiatrist, and they want back to talking having not gotten any sort of intelligent input from Hajime. It just wasn't worth it, it would be a waste of breath - of time - to try and convince them otherwise. His parents would believe whatever the doctors told them rather than what he said, and their opinions of him didn't really matter anyway. Junko on the other hand... he didn't want her thinking he had tried to commit suicide.

So what if he didn't have proof? They didn't either. Everyone was just assuming. Hadn't they ever heard how stupid that was? How assuming just made an ass out of you?

Well, he guessed all his parents could do: just assume. They were gone so often that even if he had been debating suicide that they wouldn't have noticed any of the signs. His father would hurriedly eat breakfast and run out the door, more often than not he had left the house before Hajime was even up. His mother was perhaps a little better: checking to see if he did his homework on the nights she was home, giving him a loose hug and a kiss that felt like a feather on his cheek before running out the door to meet with a client, a cup of coffee in one hand and her briefcase in another, keys jingling from a finger. Hajime was always the one to lock the door in the morning and unlock it in the evening, turning off the few lights he had turned on before going to bed.

In the beginning he had a nanny, before he began going to school that is. She had watched him when he was too young to attend, when his parents weren't there; which was most of the time. Nothing had changed when he did go to school, other than the nanny not showing up, being handed the keys to the house, a whistle, and being introduced to the neighborhood's security again. He was suppose to call them first if he had any problems, then.

Not that that had changed much. Now he simply knew what to call them for and when to call a specialist if something in the house broke or he found a leak... whatever, really. On more than one occasion he would just send word to the kids in school that there was a party going on at his house. They would show up on the promise of booze, x-rated movies and the like, get drunk, 'dance' - more like trying to mate in public, - pass out or leave speeding down the hill in their cars. In the morning he would call for a maid to clean the house before his parents got home days later.

He wouldn't be surprised if any parties he had had gone unnoticed by his parents. Security didn't say a word about them; there was enough space in between the houses that any noise caused by students he had never met - never spoke one damn word to - didn't trouble anybody.

So his parents had to believe the doctors, paramedics, and the damn psychiatrist when they said Hajime had attempted to kill himself for unknown reasons. They didn't know enough about his life to come to their own conclusions. How could they when they were never there? Sure, they threw birthday parties for him when he was a kid, but as he got older they would just send his presents to the house while they working.

If the law he ever realized that he was left alone as a kid for more hours than was allowed they would have been put on trial for child neglect, among a bunch of other things as well; he was sure of that. Not that it mattered anymore, it was just annoying having his parents suddenly poking their heads into his life and acting like they gave a damn after everything.

"I think that's enough for today." Finally, the time was up. "Well, it was good to see you again, Hajime." He rolled his eyes as the man placed his papers back into the appropriate file. The man clearly turned his attention back to his parents then, "I think we made some good progress today. Thank you for coming."

His parents thanked the psychiatrist - it was the proper behavior one expected - and began getting up. His mother asked him if he needed money for a cab and his lips twisted down.

"I didn't try and commit suicide," Hajime snapped through gritted teeth as he got up from the chair, shoving it forward into the desk so the items on top rattled a bit. He walked quickly out of the office, letting the door fly shut behind him as he hurried down the hall, not wanting to hear a word from his mother about how he shouldn't be acting like that.

"That's not how I raised you."

You didn't raise me, I raised myself. And occasionally she would remind him of his manners, point out which silverware to use when she brought him along to a social gathering. So that he didn't look like an animal at the table. Which he learned to set only by asking the maid; it's how he learned quite a bit, the sort of stuff they didn't teach at school, because it was common sense, or simply expected. Not that all his classmates had common sense, sometimes he wondered just how having parents around was suppose to help anyone grow up.

He can hear his parents leaving the office just as he turns the corner, but he knows they won't come after him. They have their work to get to. Acquiring the latest painting for their clients or going to a gallery to get some more to hang up around the house before they inevitably sold them for an even higher price. Or whatever else it was they had added on to their list for buyers after all these years.

After winding his way through the halls for awhile, finding his way to the back of the building; he finds her. Or perhaps it's that she found him.

Junko races forward when she sees him, her hands locking onto his arm like usual; but this time she walks rather than runs with him. Her footsteps aren't pounding on the linoleum, but merely tapping as she moves down the hall with him, asking a question that seems to have become her new greeting for him, "How did the appointment go?"

As if it'll ever be different than last time. It was humiliating, sitting there, listening to the doctor and his parents discuss what had happened to him; like it was all a soap opera. It left him feeling less like a human and more like a mouse, being studied, poked and prodded at until the desired effects took place. It was like being told this is what happened and this is why it happened. Oh, and by the way? This is how you're going to get better. Going to appointments and being given some little pill that was suppose to make it so he didn't think suicidal thoughts were suppose to help, they said.

Well, it didn't. And the psychiatrist might say it's because he doesn't take the pills, but Hajime doesn't need them. He never tried to kill himself and that's that. Why did everyone keep questioning him on that matter? He knew, damn it. He knew he would never - couldn't - have tried to kill himself - right?

Hajime's hands clench as he snarls for what must be the umpteenth time, "I never tried to kill myself."

Junko stops in her tracks, hands slipping from his arm as she turns to face him. "Of course, you didn't." It sounded like more of the same, the exact words he would hear from everyone else when he told them that - tried to, really. They never believed him, taking the 'professionals' opinion instead. So it's not like he didn't expect such a response. It's just that... it wasn't suppose to come from her. She was suppose to believe him, not those other people.

Hajime had her shoved against the wall to their right in the next second, his head feeling like it would split open at any moment as he dug his fingers deeper into her side; so he wouldn't fall over and pass out from the thundering ache in his head. "I didn't do that, not to myself." That's it! There had to have been someone else there in his house, waiting to slash at him and slam his head to the ground! Who cares if security says they didn't see anyone or evidence of forced entry? What other explanation could there possibly be? He couldn't have... There was just absolutely no way- "I would never do that. Not to you. I couldn't leave you like that. Don't you know that?"

Junko didn't reply and finally the mind-numbing pain in his head died down, just enough for him to see what he had done.

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping back to his side. "I... I'm sorry," he muttered, raising his hands back up to press them to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have done that."

There was the sound of heels tapping at the linoleum, stepping closer to him, and then fingers had gripped his wrists, pulling his hands down and away from his face. "Does it still hurt?" Before he could reply Junko had placed a hand on his forehead, fingers moving down to his cheek and he tries to follow the movement by leaning into her touch.

Hajime gives a nod of his head when her fingers stroke his cheek, moving back up to his forehead after only a few seconds. He wishes it was her lips pressed to the skin there instead, giving him a little kiss to take the pain away, and it would work too, because it was her.

In a fairy tale maybe, this was reality.

He sighed softly as her fingers pressed against his skin. When did he become such an idiot?