Another Wednesday meant another trip down to Chelsea to visit Dr. Singh. They'd built up a good rapport over the past few weeks, and Benji could say he genuinely enjoyed the hour or so he spent there. But today, he found that he needed to drag himself into the office, the normally quick walk becoming a laborious one, his feet heavy and sticking to the pavement as if he, too, were composed of cement. When he entered the building, he gave a half-hearted "how're you" to the receptionist before slumping into a chair to wait for Dr. Singh to call him in. He checked the clock on his phone; 2:03. Shit.
The door opened after a moment and Dr. Singh ushered him inside.
"How're you doing, Benji?"
"Yeah, I'm all right. How about you?" Benji lied, gritting his teeth.
"Not bad. I know you're not a child and I'm not going to abuse my power as your psychotherapist at this point by checking you to see if you've self-harmed, but I trust that you're working on avoiding it. How's that going?" Dr. Singh asked as Benji entered his office.
"Umm, about that…"
"You all right?" Dr. Singh asked, eyebrows furrowing. Benji plopped himself down on the couch and heaved a sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"Not really," Benji admitted. He rolled up his sleeve to expose the marked up bits of flesh. The color had faded a bit but hadn't come off completely over the last three days.
Grimacing, Dr. Singh stroked his beard. "Tell me what happened."
"I think I got some bad withdrawal symptoms over the weekend," Benji said as he pointed to the dark circles under his eyes. "I haven't been sleeping well or eating and have mostly felt like shit. I'm… pretty sure I hallucinated, too. And I had like… a really short instance where I genuinely thought about stabbing myself. Painting to stop me from self-harming didn't really… work."
Dr. Singh jotted something in his notes, his mouth a thin line. "Hmm, I can see that. And suicidal ideations, however brief, can be serious. Did you call your doctor?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Benji's eyes dropped to the floor. "I mean, it went away. Eventually. I didn't think about burning myself with cigarettes or wanting to slice myself up nor did I want to die after it happened on Sunday night, honestly. Plus, like… I don't want to end up in a mental hospital."
Shaking his head, Dr. Singh tutted. "You shouldn't gamble with your life, man. When you have episodes like that you need to tell someone. I thought you were serious about getting better and I'm not trying to scold you here, but you're paying me to help you. So let me help you, and please cooperate, or else you're wasting both of our time. I would much rather not be taking your money and see you well, okay?"
Burying his face in his arms, Benji wept. Dr. Singh took his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose, guilt written across his face.
"Look, Benji," Dr. Singh said, his voice gentler. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you so harshly, especially since you went through something traumatic. But I meant it when I said the goal is to get you better and out of here so you can go on with your life and be healthy. And there are people who are willing to help you, but you need to allow them to. Okay?"
Lifting his head and plucking a handful of tissues from the box on the table before him, Benji wiped his face and nodded, sniffling. "Okay."
"Good. And please reach out to someone if you ever feel suicidal again. You can't undo it if you do, god forbid, end up going through with it. But I'm glad you told me at least. That's a step in the right direction. I don't want you to feel ashamed of having these sorts of feelings and urges because it's actually fairly common especially when dealing with withdrawal. As much as we can try to minimize the effects, it's not foolproof, unfortunately. But keeping these things inside isn't going to help anyone. I'm not here to call the police on you unless you actually give me a detailed plan on how you want to off yourself. And I can see that you're not in that headspace, which is good. So it would actually be unethical on my part to break confidentiality.."
Benji sighed, his body relaxing. Another weight lifted from his back, the sky returning to its position above his head. He rested his head between his hands. "Yeah… thanks. Being alive may be a bit of a pain in the ass at times but it beats the other option. And I'm not just saying that to get a good grade in therapy."
Dr. Singh eyed him for a moment, studying his face. "That's good to hear. We don't know what comes after but there's no good in trying to find out anytime soon… Now… are you willing to tell me more about what you hallucinated? Maybe talking about it some more will help you feel a bit better and understand why you were experiencing this sort of episode."
"So… I was painting a portrait of Victor-"
"Oh, let me stop you right there," Dr. Singh interrupted. "I know he's your muse but do you see why painting a picture of your ex-boyfriend would cause psychological responses? Stress increases anxiety and can cause heightened symptoms of withdrawal. What were you doing before that?"
Caught off guard, Benji pursed his lips. He had thought about it. "I mean it makes sense. Before that, I was reading a book Victor gave me-"
"And what were you doing before you read the book Victor gave you?"
"Umm.. I was reading the email Victor sent me."
"Another one?"
"Yeah it was short, but it made me think of him again…"
"All right… what did you do before that?"
"I did my homework.
"What do you think about when you're doing your homework?"
Eyes on the ground again, Benji frowned. Victor. It was always Victor. "I can tell you already know the answer."
"It's normal to think about him, of course. Do you still experience that feeling that you described as… 'the waiting feeling'?"
"Yes, all the time. I wish I could stop feeling it and thinking about him but… ever since he sent me that email I feel like I'm waiting to be back with him again. The hope that we might still be able to work things out hasn't gone away and makes it… worse."
"Then you need to kill that feeling. It's part of having anxiety and I know it can be debilitating. And I know smoking and medication probably help a bit, but… sometimes the closure of treating this like the end of the relationship and moving on, even if you still love him and hope in your heart that the circumstances might change, is necessary. This goes hand in hand with reducing the stressors in your life. And I know you might not be able to get rid of all the stressors, and I know not having an object to direct your codependent feelings to can be extra stressful, but you still need to kill that feeling for your own peace of mind."
"How do I kill it, then?"
"Having time and space to heal on your own, to take care of yourself, alone, and to remind yourself that you are enough as you are. Being okay with your own company and just allowing yourself to exist. Setting your own boundaries and not compromising. And ultimately liking yourself. I know that last bit seems impossible. But you have to. Even if you get to a point where you tolerate yourself. It's better than hating yourself and slowly self-destructing. Invest your time and energy in self-improvement and maybe even find some new hobbies. Not to be nihilistic but in the end, we're born alone and die alone," Dr. Singh explained. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "So it's good to at least enjoy your own company."
After the session finished, Benji left with his head full to the brim with ideas on how he was going to implement the new things he learned into his life. He did need to figure out ways to be less stressed out, first off. And the setting boundaries thing was something he would need to work on a bit more, too. He did compromise too easily. And maybe it was time for him to try some new things. He wasn't busy enough to stop thinking. These thoughts whirled around within him as he walked back to his flat, humming to himself to make the walk back less tortuous since he had forgotten his headphones at home.
When he returned, he gave a nod of greeting to Ish, who was sitting at his laptop working on a new piece while listening to Wiley's new album in the background. Benji slipped into his room; he had work to do.
A few moments later, a sharp knock rapped at the front door, its tone urgent. Ish, took his time setting his things down before opening the door.
"Hi," Derek said, short of breath when he spoke. "Is Benji there?"
"Benji," Ish called over his shoulder while standing in the foyer before the opened door, "there's someone here to see you."
He invited Derek inside, closing the door behind him; he'd been raised not to let people stand outside in the cold when they came to visit, even if they were strangers.
As Benji approached, he felt his blood run cold in his veins, as if bits of ice and hemoglobin mixed together tried to pass through the narrow channels of his blood vessels. He glanced from Ish to Derek, furrowing his brows as he gave Ish a look that made him nervous.
"Derek... What are you doing here?" Benji asked, jaw tensing.
Ish eyed Derek suspiciously, an inkling of Bc understanding in his gaze. He looked Derek up and down, towering over him. Derek gulped. What he didn't know was that Ish would never lay a hand on him, but he was satisfied knowing that his very presence was enough to scare Derek.
"I've been looking everywhere for you… I'm so glad you're okay," Derek said, engulfing Benji in a hug. Caught off guard, Benji just stood there frozen in place, his eyes gone wide. Ish raised an eyebrow, observing Benji's face.
Please don't leave me alone with him, Benji mouthed to Ish, and the other nodded to him; Benji relaxed a bit at this.
When Derek finally released him from his hold, Benji took a deep breath. He had gotten sweaty and clammy in less than two minutes, the places where Derek had touched him left with a sensation that made Benji feel like he had been covered in sludge.
"Let's talk outside," Benji grumbled, grabbing Derek by the arm.
"I'll be in here," Ish announced, returning to his spot on the couch and staring out the window immediately before him, that gave him a full view of what was going on out on the pavement.
Pulling Derek outside as promised, Benji positioned them before the window and glanced inside to see Ish, instantly reassured by his presence. He could do this; he put some space between them.
"Why did you come here? And how on earth did you even find me?" Benji asked, his voice low and venomous. He was normally patient; but the sight of Derek's face had made him throw that patience straight out the window before which they stood.
Derek stared at Benji, daring to approach him. Benji stepped back.
"I hired a private investigator, of course. What else am I supposed to do when my boyfriend goes missing?"
"I'm not your boyfriend anymore and I don't love you, Derek. I never did and I never will," Benji said, his voice strong and firm. "You need to leave. And don't come back again."
"There's someone else, isn't there," Derek sneered. "It's Victor. You're with that… man child, right?"
"No," Benji's voice broke. "There's no one else. It's just me."
"What about the guy who let me in? He seems like your type," Derek countered, looking down at him. "Because I know your type is anything with a dick that pays any attention to you at all whatsoever, right?"
Rolling his eyes, Benji shook his head. He ignored his snide comments; he knew Derek was trying to get under his skin.
A few months ago, Benji would have accepted Derek's advances and the cruelty that came with them. He would happily go back to the comfort and allowed Derek to give him a second chance. And he knew he would revert back to doing everything he could to please him. He would become a shell of a man once more. That wasn't what he wanted.
Scoffing, Derek stepped closer to him again. "I don't believe you. You're a serial dater; a slut, if you will. You can't stand the idea of being alone and unattached. It's honestly sad."
"Well, you might not believe it, but it's true. I may have had trouble with that before but I don't anymore," Benji replied, recoiling from him. He tried not to show it on his face that he'd hit a nerve. "What can I do to make you leave me alone for good? I want you out of my life."
"Why would you want me out of your life? Don't you love me? What did I do wrong?" Derek asked, his voice softening. Benji's frown deepened as Derek rested his hands on his arms. The weight of him on his body instantly made him sick to his stomach, the spots on his arms where Derek touched him now feeling like he was being pierced by needles. He looked into the window again, exhaling.
"What do you mean? Derek, we broke up years ago. You were horrible to me. You bugged my phone. And then you got into a whole thing with-" his voice cracked and he had to pause before he continued with a grimace: "Victor… and almost ruined his life. You've done nothing of value, and you have the nerve to act like you're innocent? Like you're doing me a favor? What's wrong with you? And I'm not gonna excuse you just because you were in a coma," Benji replied, gritting his teeth.
"Benji… what are you talking about? None of that happened. I would have remembered if it did," Derek said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're talking crazy."
Biting his lip, Benji paused. He tried to stay calm. Benji from a few months ago would have easily fallen into the trap laid out for him and doubted himself. But he wasn't so naive anymore. "Don't gaslight me. I'm not crazy. You're lucky I don't believe in calling the police."
"I'm not gaslighting you!" Derek said, holding his hands in front of him, but Benji narrowed his eyes at him. "I swear. Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about. Like, I was worried sick when it was a few days before that stupid school dance you wanted to go to and then I woke up in the hospital and you weren't around. It took me so long to track you down."
For several moments, Benji made eye contact with Derek. The pieces had arranged themselves properly, and for the first time, Benji could see what they were showing him. There Derek went again, trying to make him feel bad for liking things; it didn't work on Benji anymore. "So you genuinely don't remember any of it."
"Yeah, I don't, because it sounds ridiculous and like it didn't even happen," Derek countered, rolling his eyes. "So can we please talk about something else and not some nonsense you made up?"
"No, it's not nonsense," Benji replied, venturing to take a step toward Derek, getting in his space. "It happened. All of it. Even if you don't remember, it did. And if I have to break up with you again, I will. We're over, Derek. Can you please just stop stalking me and move on?"
Derek swallowed, looking down at the ground. This time, Victor wasn't there to serve as Benji's shield. But he realized he didn't need a shield at all. Exhaling, Derek looked defeated, vanquished. The bravado he wore like armor had sloughed off and fallen to the pavement. It was as if he finally understood.
"Okay," Derek said softly. "I'll leave you alone. For good, as you asked."
Raising an eyebrow, Benji watched him. "Really? That's it?"
"I think it just hit me how many times you've told me exactly what you wanted and I completely ignored it because I thought I knew better, when I didn't. And I'm so tired of holding the weight. These past few months when I tried to look for you, I had a feeling you had moved on, but I didn't want to hear it," Derek replied.
Benji couldn't find it in himself to feel bad for him anymore. "Cool. I have one last request of you before you go."
Sticking his hands in his pockets, Derek nodded. "What is it?"
Closing his eyes and sighing, Benji ran his hand through his hair. "Since you said you don't remember, I believe you. But I want you to vacate the judgment against Victor. He's had too much on his plate, and I… nevermind. Just please, let him off the hook."
"Uh, I have no idea what you're talking about but sure. I'll try, I guess," Derek shrugged.
Somehow, Benji didn't sense any ill intent. Something told him he was being trustworthy, for once. The disgusting sleazebag of a man Derek had turned into after their breakup seemed like someone Benji had concocted in his own imagination but he knew that version of Derek had been real, too. He would no longer doubt his own senses.
"I want you to write it down or make a reminder for yourself so you don't forget."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. I don't trust you to remember."
"Fine."
Derek grumbled and withdrew his phone; he typed something quickly, then held it up to Benji's face so he could read. "Ask lawyer about vacating Victor's case? (get more details about that)"
"Happy?"
"Thanks," Benji said curtly. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Benji," Derek said with a nod, eyeing the window and gritting his teeth before he left.
"Have a nice life."
When Benji turned away, he didn't look back.
Victor yawned, climbing into bed and burying himself under a warm pile of blankets after a hard day of being alive. In his typical ritualistic fashion, Victor took his phone with him, lowering the brightness so as to not burn his retinas as he scrolled through his emails .
Nothing new or interesting showed up…
Oh.
Raising an eyebrow, Victor stopped on a message titled "Case number 1:2020cv30010 status update." He pressed it to open the body of the message.
As he read, his eyes widened.
"This case has been closed with the following changes: Plaintiff has dismissed the claim."
Eyes scanning the single line written in the email a few times, Victor couldn't stop the smile that curled his lips. He threw his hands in the air and kicked his legs, feeling like a dog whose owner had just returned home from running errands, his proverbial tail wagging. At this point, he wasn't going to sleep that night.
Not knowing what to do with this sudden burst of energy, Victor shot up, jumping up and down a few times before running around a few times in a circle. It had been months since he had felt the rush associated with pure, unfettered, shining joy. He was finally free.
Sitting back down on his bed, Victor grinned at nothing in particular. He had no idea what had made Derek change his mind, but he was relieved that he would never have to deal with him ever again. The amount of serotonin firing across his brain at that moment made him want to throw up, but he didn't care. Finally, some good news. He immediately messaged his friends to tell them the good news, and he figured they were asleep, but he couldn't help himself; he wanted to shout it into the night even if it would earn him a noise complaint.
Without thinking, Victor looked for the message chain between him and Benji, his face slowly faltering when he realized it was buried by countless other message chains that had taken precedence. He sighed; Benji had to have done something. Victor didn't know what and he didn't want to know. But there was something about not being able to share his happiness with someone, in fact, the most special someone he knew, that instantly soured Victor's mood. He wiped the glassy nomad that trailed from his eye away as he lay down in his bed again.
His finger tapped on the Instagram app and typed in Benji's handle, and even though he had mostly weaned himself off this habit, sometimes Victor couldn't help himself. Therapy wasn't foolproof.
Another new post.
Gasping and almost dropping his phone on his face, Victor sat up, swallowing the thick lump in his throat. The doppelganger staring back at him had reached through the screen and into his chest cavity, clenching its fist around his heart to draw blood. Victor shook his head, blinking back even more tears, the throbbing pain becoming unbearable. Benji hadn't captioned it, but he knew exactly what he meant.
He closed his eyes and when he opened them, the painting glared at him. Once more, and it returned to normal, but the sinister glint in its eye seemed to follow him even after he shut off the screen.