"Ryou, are you even listening to me?"

The boy paused, shifting his weight uncomfortably.  "Yes, father," he mumbled, still refusing eye contact. 

"This is important.  Doctor Kyoto says that he's decided you're bipolar."

"Has he?" Ryou asked amusedly.

His father sighed.  "There's medication you can take.  What if we—"

"There's a pill for everything, isn't there?" 

//Heh heh. //

"Ryou, the doctor says it will help your…"

"—Imbalance?  Complex?  Hysteria?  Depression?"

"Ryou, please.  I don't like this one-on-one any more than you do."

"Then why even bother?" he snapped, looking immediately into his father's eyes.

"I wanted," the father's voice faltered.  "The doctor said…it would be good for you."

"Since when have you followed whatever the doctors say?"  Ryou smirked.  "You know what would be really good for me?"  //Just leave me alone. //  "Just leave me alone, okay?  I'll be fine."  //Fine. //  "Go away."

His father frowned.  "Listen to you…you're not yourself."

//No, don't listen.  You're just fine. //

"I'm fine."

"—No, you're not, Ryou!"

"What do you know!?"  The boy's voice wavered, his eyes welling with tears.  "What do you know about me?  You don't know me!!"

His father paused, shock registering in his features as if he'd been struck.  "You're my son—"

"I'm supposed to be."

At length, his father nodded sadly.  "You're right," he admitted.  "You're right.  I've been doing a terrible job as a father, haven't I?"

Ryou didn't respond.

"It's all right—you don't have to say anything.  I know.  I've ignored you.  I tear you down all the time.  You're right."

The boy stared at him in a listless stupor.  He'd actually admitted it?  It couldn't be possible…could it?

"Ryou..my son…I don't know what to say.  I'm under a lot of pressure right now—"

"—You're not the only one."

//Boy, watch yourself. //

His father sighed.  "I'm trying to help.  I put you in therapy—"

"—That's not going to make it all go away!  You can't just put a band-aid on my psyche and expect me to be normal all of a sudden!"

"But I'm trying, Ryou!  What else can I do?"

"Talk to me!"

"I just tried, but you only chastised me."

Ryou clenched and bared his teeth as if he would growl.  "Talk to me because you want to, not because some suit tells you to," he yelled, risking another strike, but his father's hand did not fly.

"Do you know what I go through every day," the older man asked instead, "to provide for you?  Do you realize how hard I work to keep you pent up in the lap of luxury?  The finest clothes and tutors and private schools money can buy—"

"This isn't about money," the boy objected, disgusted at his father's selfish digression.  "Put me in rags and rent control, I don't care.  Just talk to me.  I'm suffocating here."

His father stiffened.  "This is the gratitude you show me?""

Ryou would have laughed, were he not so close to tears.  He shook his head and in a defeated whisper yielded, "You don't get it."

"Go to your room, young man," his father ordered without skipping a beat.  "You're grounded."