Follow the River

Like somehow, me leaving him there and going out was the worst thing to ever happen to him.

Which makes no fucking sense. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling an immense amount of guilt for it.

“I regret my actions in general for keeping River up half the night wondering where I was,” I mumble, putting my head in my hands. “And I hate that I don’t know why I feel this way.”

“He’s really gotten under your skin, it seems.”

Very observant, Doc.

“Yeah, he has,” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “He’s found every fucking one of my buttons and makes it his life’s purpose to push them until I snap. It drives me insane. And the worst part is, anything I say or do doesn’t seem to phase him in the slightest.”

“Say or do?” she asks, and I glance up to her, finding her brow raised.

I wince. Fuck.

How do I say this without sounding like a completely homophobic asshole?

“Look, I’m not saying I’m in the right because I’m not. I know that. But…” I swallow roughly and shake my head. “I’ve called him some pretty awful shit. Derogatory slurs or whatever. Pi

Not exactly a lie...

Doctor Fulton scribbles something in her pad before looking up at me, still lacking judgement. “And do you regret those words and actions like you do the ones from last night?”

I shake my head, frustration building within me from her line of questioning. About the topic of questioning, more like it. “I don’t know. I didn’t. At the time I did and said those things, I felt, I don’t know. Justified, almost? Like there was a reason behind them and he deserved them. Even last night when he was taunting me yet again about blowing me, I didn’t feel bad about what I said or about leaving to go to the club. But when I got back to the hotel last night and saw him all…vulnerable or whatever, it’s like it set off some alarm in my brain and all I fucking feel is remorse.”

That’s the kicker of this whole thing. I left so I wouldn’t do and say more awful shit to him, but in the end, it probably was the worst thing I could have done. Because, for the very first time, I saw him hurting from my actions and seeing it only confused me more.

And now I don’t know what I feel. Besides guilty, that is.

“Ciaráin, I know you said Roman is an off limits topic, but part of me feels this unhealthy form of communication you have with River might be stemming from that.”

I close my eyes and groan because she’s right. I don’t want to talk about Roman.

“I don’t know. They’re similar, yeah. But Roman, he would never push me past the limit I could handle. He’d get me to the edge, but he never sent me into freefall.”

“Except it might be exactly what you need.”

My brows furrow. “How so?”

“Ciaráin, it’s easy to see you have this need for control. And there’s nothing wrong with that, most people do. But with your past trauma, it’s intensified the desire in you to have a hold on everyone and everything around you.” She pauses and gives me a smile. “Again, not a bad thing. But I think you’ve reached the point where you need to relinquish some of it.”

The good doctor has a point, unfortunately. “Okay. I mean you’re not wrong. But what does my need for control have to do with Roman or River?”

She sets her pad and pen on the table beside her and leans forward. “It sounds like Roman let you have a lot of control during a time of your life when you needed it. Over your friendship as well as the end of it. So when he pushed you to the edge but never made it so you had to take the plunge, you still had a hold on your world. Which, at the time, was a good thing.”

She pauses and gives me a little smirk. “But River? From the sounds of it, he refuses to let you tell him what to do, let you control him, like you’re itching to do. But it’s not just that, is it? He has this way of making you lose the control of yourself that you’re so desperate to cling to. And I think it could be good for you. I think you need it.”

Losing control is good for me? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so, Doc.

“I tend to disagree,” I say through gritted teeth.

She scoffs. “Of course you would. Because it goes against your nature.”

“Then why would you want me to purposely go against my nature?”

“This thing called self-growth, Ciaráin. River could be an opportunity to give it to you, just like Roman did at a previous point in your life.”

I shake my head, adamant that this is not going to fucking happen. “We’re enemies. I don’t want him to be in charge of any form of growth.”

Especially one in particular…

“But you were willing to let Roman?” she counters.

“Roman was different. I’d known him for years, we were best friends. And it’s not like I was aware he was leading me on some journey of fucking self-discovery or whatever.”

“And you had feelings for him.”

Her words give me pause. “What?”

“Ciaráin, you had feelings for him. I’ve read all your files, every word about Roman in there. I see the way you tense when I bring him up or the look in your eye when we started talking about him. I know infatuation when I see it.”

Fuck me.

My chest aches at her words, hating the validity to every fucking one of them.

“The day he kissed you, he didn’t ruin your friendship because he was bisexual and came onto you. It was ruined because you trusted him, loved him even, and when he finally made the move to show you he felt something similar, it was too late. He was leaving for college. Leaving you.”

I feel like I might pass out as the words slide over my body, constricting and squeezing around me like a snake coated in barbed wire.

She has to stop fucking talking.

“And I also think—” she says slowly, her eyes searching me as I war with myself, “you have some of these confusing feelings for River as well. This attraction you don’t know what to do with because of how much he reminds you of Roman. And while you might not talk to Roman anymore, you still have a sense of loyalty to him. So, in turn, having these confusing feelings for River feels like a betrayal.”

“You don’t know shit,” I growl.

“I don’t?” she challenges, a brow raised. “How do you explain what you feel for River then?”

“I don’t feel anything for him except disdain and contempt. Especially when he started being a fucking cunt and egging me on just to get me to lose my shit.”

“Lose control,” she corrects. “But do you blame him for lashing out after what you said? Do you understand why he is acting the way he is?”

Of course I fucking do. Does she think I’m dense?

I know he’s only lashing out because of the shit I started. It all could have been avoided had I just been straight up with him from the begi

But I’m the one who pushed him first. His retaliation is on me.

“Whatthefuckever,” I snap, not wanting to think about any of this shit anymore. I glance up at the clock, noting there is over a half an hour left in our session. But I can’t fucking be here for that long without losing control of my temper. “It doesn’t fucking matter. We’re done talking about this.”