"All right, I think I'm ready to talk about it," Trent said quietly as he finished downing the rest of his soda and set the empty cup on the coffee table.

"We're listening," Bea replied. They were crowded around him on the couch.

He had to admit, he felt a lot better. His leg had really started bothering him on the drive home. He'd taken a few painkillers and smoked a bit in between eating tacos, and being here in his home, surrounded by his girlfriends, had all helped to calm him down.

Although damn did he feel exhausted, like physically drained.

"Uh, it's kind of stupid, honestly," he said.

"It isn't stupid, honey," Bea replied.

"Yeah, come on, after all the stuff you told me isn't stupid," Mae said.

"All right, that's fair," he muttered. Then he sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. "I was listening to music, going for a walk, and one song came on. I used to listen to it a lot. Perfect, by Simple Plan. And...I don't know. I think it was a trigger. I haven't really talked much about my life before coming to Possum Springs, but that's mostly because my life oscillated between fucking suck and boring as hell. And most of that has to do with my family."

He fell silent, frowning deeply as he hugged himself, hunching forward, staring at the mess on the coffee table, bathing in the misery as he let himself remember.

"I've been through some shit since coming here. Getting shot, the fights with Chris, and the other assholes, and the cult shit...it all sucked. But honestly, I'd rather face this shit down than put up with my family again. I...fuck," he muttered, putting his face in his hands suddenly. "I don't even know where to begin or what to talk about."

"Whatever comes to mind," Ann said.

"I mean, what, you guys are just going to sit here and listen to be me bitch about my stupid family all night?"

"Trent, this matters," Mae said, a touch angrily. "I don't care if it takes three hours, three days, or three fucking weeks. I'm going to help you if you need it. And you need it right now. So talk."

"Mae," Bea said.

"Maybe take it down a notch," Ann murmured.

"You're right-I'm sorry. Shit."

"I get it," Trent said. "I'm kinda being an asshole. It's just...this is hard to talk about."

"We understand that," Bea said. "And normally, I'd stick to my policy of: if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. But I think you really should give us something."

"You're right," he replied. "Okay. Okay. Just...ugh, shit. I told Ann some of this already. My parents hated each other, and they both hated me. Mom was an alcoholic, dad did coke and God knows what else. Same with my older brother. My younger sister, I dunno. I know she was drinking in high school with her 'cool' cheerleader friends. I really just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to play video games, and write stuff. Sometimes that worked. But…"

He shook his head and sighed again, uncomfortable with the tears that were already starting to well. "Having actually been shot, I can now safely say that I'd rather be shot than face down my parent's disappointment again. My mom telling me what a fucking pussy I am, or hearing what a fucking failure I am from my dad, or how much my brother thinks I'm such a beta bitch, or my sister telling me I'm going to die a loser virgin fuck-" He stopped himself and sighed heavily. "There's a lot there. And you'd think I'd be happy now. I mean, I am happy now, my life has gotten a hell of a lot better, and I have a lot of things they wanted to have or pretended to have. Namely, people who actually love and respect me, and a good home life. But...I don't know, that's the thing. I didn't really think much about this since I moved here."

"Fucking shit, is this my fault?" Ann asked suddenly. "God, I asked you to open up to me and-"

"No," he said, interrupting her. "It isn't your fault. I think...this was coming. Regardless of what we all did, it was coming, and I was just fooling myself thinking I'd 'gotten over it' or moved on or whatever. You didn't do anything wrong, Ann."

"Why do you think it was always coming?" Mae asked.

Trent sighed heavily. "You can't have that much bad stuff happen to you and it just...goes away. As much as we'd like that. It takes a toll. It leaves scars, chronic pain, mental disorders. Damage. Permanent damage. Trauma. I just...didn't want to think about it. I busied myself, and I enjoyed myself. And it worked for awhile. I mean, I had you three amazing women to fall in love with and convince to have sex with me-"

Bea rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like I needed so much convincing."

"Well, you did jump on my dick as soon as you had the opportunity," he replied, laughing a little.

"Oh shut up! We're focusing on your mental health," Bea growled.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood. Fucking shit…" he muttered, hugging himself again as the haunting, heartbreaking misery that was remembering his old life suddenly swelled up over him again like a black tide.

"It's okay, Trent," Ann murmured, leaning in and hugging him. "Whatever's happening in there, you're safe here."

"I really hate feeling this way," he muttered. "There's a lot of just...bad feelings I really don't want to talk with you all about. Because it's so ugly."

"We knew it was going to get ugly when we agreed to date you," Bea said.

"Yeah," Mae and Ann agreed.

He sighed. "I know, and...I appreciate that so much. More than I can really say. And I feel the same way about you all. I know we all agreed. It's just-it feels so different, being on the other side of this. It's always like-" he hesitated, shook his head.

"What?" Mae asked.

"I don't want to say it."

"Just say it," Ann said. "All of it." She ran her fingers through his hair and it made him relax, almost against his will.

"It's felt a lot like I've been on the receiving end of you all having moments where you break down and fall apart, and unless I'm missing something, I haven't really. And I'm not complaining, to be clear, I'm not trying to say anything about you. You all have a lot of completely valid reasons to have trauma and freak out-"

"Trent," Bea said, taking one of his hands, "you're right. I can really only speak for myself in how I feel about this, but honestly, I've kind of been waiting for something like this, because it seems like you always have it together."

"I kinda feel the same way," Ann said. "In truth, I was starting to get worried you were repressing stuff in some way until recently. I'm not saying I like this, but you're right: it has been somewhat one-sided."

"Yeah, I agree," Mae said. "Honestly I felt sorta weird about it. It's like you always took care of me, but I never had to take care of you. But I know how you feel. I just, you know, I want to make you feel better. You've done, like, way more for me than so many people. More than I thought any boyfriend I might get would ever do, really, and I really want to take care of you."

"I'm glad, for that and that I wasn't completely off the mark. But I'm also scared. I know it's not something you want to hear, none of this is going to be, but it's a...guy thing."

"How so?" Bea asked, reluctance in her voice.

"I...ugh," he groaned, "I have to admit grudging understanding of Chris and those like him here. There's just...there's a lot of stories out there, of women telling their boyfriends to open up, be emotionally vulnerable, and then the guys do, and a week later the woman breaks up with them, giving some bullshit excuse, or whatever they said, whatever weakness or fear they showed, will be used against them in the next argument. And none of you have given me the impression that you're going to do either of those things. I trust you, all of you, with my life. In pretty much every way. I love you. All three of you. But it's kind of like...looking into the barrel of an unloaded gun. I know it's unloaded, but I can't help but flinch and feel fear, because it's a gun."

"I get it, Trent," Ann said. "I kind of felt the same way when we first started dating. I," she sighed, "sorry to keep bringing it up, but Dennis didn't just not want to hear my problems, he got angry about them. And I had to unlearn that trauma response with you. Because there was a part of me that said, that yelled really, 'he's going to hate you if you tell him this, he's going to leave you', even though you'd done nothing to make me think that."

"God that sucks so fucking hard," Mae muttered.

"It does," Trent agreed. "But, okay, here it is: I hate myself. You don't want to hear it, I don't want to say it, but I guess I gotta face it. I fucking hate myself right now. That's what this reminded me of, I spent so long hating myself. I grew up with four people who hated me, and so obviously I drew the conclusion that I was worth hating."

"I hate your family!" Mae screamed, startling him.

"Mae," Bea said sharply.

"I'm sorry but fuck!" she snapped, jumping up, opening and closing her fists rapidly. She began pacing. "I just-I can't do anything about this! My boyfriend fucking hates himself because of his shitty fucking family and what am I supposed to do about that!?"

"Mae, it's all right-" Trent said.

"It isn't! I'm not crazy, this isn't all right!"

"Mae, you should calm down. I know it sucks, but this isn't helping," Ann said.

Mae was gritting her teeth, trembling in anger. She looked at them and then, after a moment that seemed to stretch out, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out, then opened them back up. "Fuck," she whispered. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Trent, this feeling you have," Ann said, "the self-loathing, it's...understandable. To be clear, not that I think you should hate yourself. But we've all been there. And that isn't to just write off what you're feeling, or to imply, in any way, that your family was right. I just want you to know you aren't alone in this feeling. I mean...you know how I felt."

"Yeah," he murmured.

"Ugh, I know I've been there. Fuck. I was such a goddamned loser in college...and high school...and middle school...ugh, shit. Just always. I hated myself so fucking much after the thing with Andy Cullen happened," Mae growled, her tail thrashing. "I still go there sometimes. Against my will. So...yeah, I get it, too."

Bea made an uncomfortable sound. He looked at her. She wasn't looking at him, instead staring at the floor, a deep frown on her face.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"I...was thinking of something. Something I've never told anyone before. Ever. That's relevant," she muttered.

"You don't have to share it if you don't want to," Trent said.

"I want to...but I don't. Whatever. I was a little...crazy, for a little while, after my mom died. I started believing that...it was my fault. That she died. It kind of felt like I was actually losing my mind. It was so scary. I didn't believe it...but I did. It's so hard to describe. But the thought that it might even be kind of true, even the tiniest bit...made me hate myself so much. I got through it, but it was such a dark time. And...I wish I had told someone. Someone to help me. And now we all have each other, and you're telling us, and it's miserable, but we're here for you. You don't have to be alone with it."

"That is a huge difference," he said. He turned and hugged her suddenly, kissed the side of her head. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Bea."

"It's...I'm supposed to be helping you," she murmured.

"You are. You all are. I'm sorry you all had to go through all this bullshit," he replied.

"And we're sorry you had to go through it, too," Mae said, sitting down in his lap as soon as he let go of Bea, then hugging him tightly.

"What do I do about this?" he asked after a moment. "This isn't going to go away. I can tell that."

"Same thing you told me," Mae murmured into his chest. "Go to therapy. Get some medication maybe."

"Maybe…" he replied, a little reluctant.

"Oh, so it's okay for me, but not for you?" she asked.

"That isn't what I meant," he said. "It's just...I don't even know. It's scary."

"It is," she muttered. "Sorry, didn't mean to get all defensive over it. I still am not looking forward to my therapy."

"I think therapy might be a good start," Ann said. "And maybe, based on what they say, you might consider getting on some antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds. If you want, I can try to get an appointment set up. Though really it's easiest to get a referral from a doctor, like Mae did."

He sighed. "Yeah, I should get a checkup anyway. And yeah, I should do the therapy thing. Probably we all should, to be honest. There's a lot to unpack."

"We're gonna overwhelm Briddle's healthcare infrastructure," Mae said.

"Yeah, Briddle's incredibly advanced healthcare infrastructure," Ann said, rolling her eyes.

"At least it's better than here. Doctor Hank would tell us to just shut the fuck up and stop being so hysterical," Bea muttered.

"I'll make this happen," Ann said, giving him a kiss and then standing up.

"Let me know when you need me to take over, since I'm sure they're gonna insist on it, given we aren't married or related...and also, thank you," Trent replied.

"You're welcome."

He sighed. "I should probably get some writing done."

"I think you should take the day off," Bea replied. "I mean, unless you feel like working or writing will help take your mind off of it. But you really should do something to treat yourself."

"Yeah...I guess so," he muttered, considering it. "Should probably check on Claire...but I don't want to let her know I'm, like, breaking down. Not now that she's so happy."

Bea made another unhappy sound. "I...feel like you shouldn't suppress your own problems for another person, because that leads down a dark road where you just bury everything...but I also think your instinct is right...but I don't want you to think I want you to just shut up…"

"It's all right, Bea," Ann said. "If we see her, we'll figure something out, but she seems pretty preoccupied with getting her new life set up. And if it comes up, or rather when it comes up, given how close you are with her, she will understand."

"Yeah," he murmured, frowning again. He felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"What?" Mae asked. "You're unhappy again."

"It's not like I stopped being unhappy," he replied.

"No, you were on the way to being no longer unhappy, I saw your face, I felt it, you know I can feel it, Trent. But then something occurred to you to derail that. What is it?"

He heaved a loud sigh. "You really like to needle me, you know that?"

"Stop evading," Mae said, crossing her arms.

"Mae, you really should consider taking your foot off the gas a little," Bea said.

"I want to know! This is important!"

"Fine," Trent said. "I hate...being weak in front of you all. A lot of my brain is screaming at me that this is a terrible idea, that I've committed some mortal sin."

"You're being a hypocrite," Mae said.

"She's right," Bea agreed reluctantly. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to kick you while you're down, but she's right."

"How?" he asked.

"Jeez, you really aren't thinking clearly," Mae muttered. "How many times have you been all 'oh you can tell me anything, I won't judge, I'm so cool with crying!'? You've done that with all of us. You practically suck the vulnerability out of us, bring it to the surface and expose it. We bare our souls to you. And now you're doing it and all of a sudden it's a bad thing?"

Trent thought about that for a long moment, then groaned. "Yeah, okay, I'll own it. I'm being a hypocrite. And I know you all are so fucking sick of hearing it, but it's...it's different when you're a guy. It just is. I don't think it should be, I'm acknowledging that it is. Society, it's set up so that women are not just allowed to be emotional and vulnerabile, but that they're expected to be. It's not just normal, it's healthy. It's the opposite for men. Yeah, we've made big strides in mental health and accepting vulnerability in men, but it's...it's still a battlefield. And I trust all of you. I don't want you to feel like I don't trust you, because I do. It's just...it's scary in a way that almost nothing else is," he explained.

"Then you're being brave," Bea said.

"I appreciate that...I know this has to really bother you. I know how fucking sick of all this 'guy shit' you are-"

"No, that's not fair. I mean, I'm not being fair. I get where you're coming from. Honestly, you've helped open my eyes that a lot of stuff I wrote off, I shouldn't have. I still think that women face more problems on the whole, but...men do face a shitload of problems, too. And I shouldn't just ignore that. And not just because I have a boyfriend I am madly in love with now. But Trent, you can trust us. Honestly, I think you're being extremely brave. Instead of just brushing this off or trying to hide it or getting angry over it, you're facing it, trying to deal with it. That's...really fucking brave."

"She's right," Ann said.

"Uh-huh," Mae agreed.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. And...you all are brave, too. You three have overcome so much...sometimes I stand in awe of all the shit you've dealt with and moved on from. And I'm really, really, really lucky to have you in my corner. And to have Claire, and Mae's parents, and Gregg and Angus."

"Jen would have sex with you if she thought it'd make you feel better and she was here," Ann said.

"And don't forget Melody, that girl is real into you," Bea murmured.

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess so. What I'm saying is...I think I just need to sit with this, and face it, and learn it. I hated myself for years. It's soaked into my soul. And I'm just going to have to figure out how to fix what I can, and live with what I can't."

"We're going to support you as much as we can," Mae said, squeezing him tightly.

Bea and Ann piled on him as well. "And you know we are too," Bea said.

"Yep," Ann murmured.

"I love all three of you more than I have loved anyone else in my entire life," Trent replied.

"Good. Now, you should take a break," Bea said.

"You're right. Let's smoke a little and watch something...let's watch Scary Movie 3."

"Yeah!" Mae said.

"I feel like that's the only one of the series that actually got it right," Bea said.

"They treated it seriously, like they played it straight, which is what made it a hell of a lot funnier," Trent replied. "Four had its moments though, like that fucking rant Michael Madsen went on about tripods."

"I'll get it set up," Ann said.

Bea grabbed a pipe, lit it, took a puff on it, and handed it to Trent, who took his own puff.

All in all, he supposed his first anxiety attack could have gone way worse.