Re: coffee: sam & neil
"I used to." He pulled a face for dramatic emphasis and kept drinking his coffee. "Less so now. But appearances are important. I had to learn how to make nice, how to talk to people. Whether I find them boring or I hate them, I have to pretend." There was a lot of pretending in his world, his parents' world. Even growing up he'd known that. Luckily, Neil had practice. Sometimes he faltered but that was usually only around people he was close to, people he cared about; otherwise, it was weakness. He couldn't afford to be weak. "Not embarrassed," he said, giving her a look. "I'm supposed to disapprove." He could remember her fondness for 'bad behavior', even years later. She'd liked pushing him, trying to embarrass him-- especially in public. "It is," he admitted, of six years being a long time. Sometimes, though, it felt like no time had passed at all. "One year sounds like a long time, but in retrospect it really isn't." He paused. "I've been going to meetings. I'm fine."
As much as he didn't like keeping things from Louis, more bad news was the last thing he needed right now. "Alright. I won't tell him." He looked at her, as though he could discern the truth that way. "Is it enough? The doctors, the pills? Is there anything else that can be done?" Oh, he knew Sam wouldn't accept his help, but still, it couldn't hurt to ask. He had to think about whether or not he would look, but for him a year didn't make much of a difference. "I don't know. Our circumstances aren't the same." He shrugged. There wasn't much else to say about Louis getting better, because neither of them could do anything about it sitting here. He just nodded, trying to be optimistic about this, at the very least.
No, they hadn't really talked about sex. Then again, their relationship hadn't exactly been very healthy. Neil knew she hated it when he blamed himself, but he'd owned up to his mistakes and he wasn't going to budge in that regard. "You have a therapist voice? Three of them?" He raised his eyebrows. It was teasing, but this clearly wasn't a subject he was comfortable with. And she said she needed 'more than that'. His lines became darker, the pencil pressing harder into the paper. "What am I supposed to do, describe the sex in detail? I really don't think that's the problem, Sam." He frowned down at the sketchbook. "The problem is that she feels like she'll never be accepted, that she'll never fit in here. That everyone will always blame her for things." He sighed.