Forced Interaction
Characters: Kyle and Brady Setting: Kyle's room, 9am
The whole concept of being given a name of someone he had to go have a conversation with was really fucking stupid, but Brady wasn’t really interested in thumbing his nose at the Administration just yet. Eventually, maybe, but not quite yet. At least with the mood Kyle seemed to be, it was bound to be a short conversation. He was a little curious about what had him in pity party mode, as he knew that mindset very well, but he didn’t really care to have a heart to heart. He just wanted to get the whole thing done and over with. And so, when the clock hit nine, he left his room and went straight to room seven, hand lifting to give three firm knocks to the door.
Kyle had been expecting the call, but that didn’t mean that he had been at all looking forward to it. He didn’t want to see anyone today - no matter what certain people he knew here might have in mind. He looked and felt like a mess - he hadn’t slept overnight, his eyes were red rimmed and puffy and he was still in yesterday’s clothes. But talking to this guy seemed to be the quickest way to get rid of him, so he opened the door. Stepping into the doorway, he leaned against the doorpost, holding onto the door lightly at shoulder height with his other hand. “So - we’ve met. What do you want to talk about?” he asked, coldly. Despite the way he looked, his face was a haughty, emotionless mask - as though he were shopping in a high end store, rather than standing at the door of what amounted to his prison cell.
When the door opened, Brady took in the way Kyle looked with one sweeping glance, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. Yeah, whatever was going on, he was definitely moping. The cold tone didn’t phase him in the least, and he just quirked a brow at him. “Well aren’t you just a ray of fucking sunshine? Here’s a little piece of friendly advice, kid: if you don’t want people worrying about you or pestering you when you’re having a pity party, you probably shouldn’t advertise it. Look, no one’s better at the self pity shit than me. You wanna talk about ruining everything you touch? Been there, done that. I’m betting you probably don’t want to talk about that, though. Hell, you probably don’t want to talk at all, and that’s fine. But if you want to unload on someone who’s not afraid to tell you you’re being an idiot, I can do that for you.” He didn’t particularly want to, but he knew from experience that sometimes it did help for someone to do that.
Kyle’s expression didn’t change, though a flash of anger passed across his eyes. “And what if I’m not being an idiot?” he snapped. His emotions didn’t show on his face, but they very much did so in his tone. “Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? Making those kind of judgements from what, a few words? I posted that fucking poll because it was mandatory. So yeah - maybe I could have just posted something neutral and vague about how the sky is fucking purple whilst the grass is green and the soil is brown. Or about how I’m a Sagittarius or what the fuck ever. But I didn’t. I posted that. It still means you know fuck all about me. And I’m not really in a hurry to change that.”
Brady stayed silent as Kyle seemed to rant a bit, expression unchanging. “You’re right, I don’t know shit about you, and I don’t really care whether or not that changes. But because I don’t know you, I have no reason to just tell you what I think you want to hear. Don’t know about you, but that shit always pisses me off. If you want to just hole up in your room and wallow and shut people out, that’s your choice, but I figure we’ve got a good three and a half minutes left. Might as well make the most of it,” he said with a short, humorless laugh.
Kyle arched an eyebrow. “How do you know whether I’m shutting people out or not?” he questioned. “From what I posted today? There are such things as private messages, you know. I could just as much be talking to people in private as not talking to anyone at all. I could be working through all of my ‘pity party shit’ in a constructive and productive way. For all you know.” It didn’t help his mood that he did just want to hole up in his room and wallow. And a part of him did know that he was being pathetically self-pitying right now. But knowing that didn’t actually help at all. He would crawl out of it - he had made the first move to contact Adam. He had agreed to meet with Cal. He would deal with it, eventually. And in a couple of days - maybe even tomorrow - he would know the results of his tests, one way or another. And then life would either go on, or it would fall apart - but at least it would do so in a way that he could work on putting the pieces back together somehow.
Brady shrugged at that. “I don’t know. Sure, you could have, but with a fifty-fifty shot, shutting people out seemed the more likely guess based on the shit you put in that poll. Look, I’m not a fucking optimist. Most of the time, all I can see is the worst possible outcome, so telling you to keep your chin up and try to think about good shit to get you through whatever’s got you in pity party mode seems like a crock of shit even to me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked from his heels to the balls of his feet and back again.
Kyle pulled a mock-shocked face. “God Lord! You are so good at this whole advice giving thing? Are you a trained therapist?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He dropped the expression back into the previous mask, though there was an edge of withering contempt to it now. “Don’t make assumptions about people based on fifty-fifty guess work. It makes you look like the fucking idiot. We done here yet?”
“Wasn’t aware I was supposed to be acting as a fucking therapist. Don’t really care if you hear what I’m saying or not, or even if it helps or not. Just here for a short conversation, and with your ‘woe is me’ bullshit on the journals, it was bound to be the topic,” Brady replied, tone really calm and neutral considering the outright contempt coming from the other man. “People make assumptions based on what they see all the fucking time, that’s human nature. But yeah, sure, we’re done.” Because as much as Kyle obviously didn’t want to be in this conversation, Brady really didn’t want to be, either.
“Great. Have a nice life,” Kyle said, taking a step back so that he could close the door. As it clicked behind him, he turned and slid down it, bringing his knees up against his chest and dropping his head down onto them, hugging them close to him. He stayed there, just breathing for a moment, then made himself get up and sit at his desk again. He needed to see whether there was anything else he had to do or say today.