Depression, meet Paranoia

[Amadi Dearly]

[September 2nd. Closed to Amadi and Milo]

Was it really worth it?

Amadi couldn’t help but loathe that his thoughts always returned to this well-worn track… but hating his depression and its side-effects had yet to make it go away. Amadi had long-since accepted that he was stuck with being miserable, quite possibly for the rest of his life.

Right now, the youth lay in his room at Academy D, face-down on his bed, dreading a meeting with his new roommate and failing to divert his mind from the familiar thoughts that told him his life was never going to get better so he might as well just settle for an early end to it. Amadi wasn’t altogether sure what had kept him from acting on these thoughts for so many years. Maybe initially it had been a longing to find out his true origins, otherwise the mystery would have died with him, but now…

He was a child of incest and shame, and nothing could change that. He had nothing to contribute to the world, and between his depression and deformity, sometimes felt that his life could be summed up as the definition of suffering. An exaggeration, perhaps, but still… his life had no purpose. Nothing kept him hanging on, except maybe the thought that neither of his animated parents would approve of him ending everything; he knew the series well enough to imagine their reactions if he were to do so.

But then again, would they even care? As a child of incest, surely he was a mistake – wouldn’t they be glad to have the evidence of said mistake removed? Or did they think he was already dead from birth, as his name suggested?

Still, even though he couldn’t say why, Amadi clung to a resolution not to let his life end, no matter how hard the waves of depression continually buffeted him, no matter how much of a struggle it was for him to even try and act like his life was worth living, somehow he still grasped at that life, as useless as it so often felt.

Maybe it was because suicide, while an appealing option that would make the world a better place for everyone, was also a coward’s way out. And Amadi refused to be a coward.

Finally, he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling instead of half-smothering his face in the mattress. His school tie, which he seemed to always wear, hung crooked beneath his open collar, but he made no attempt to straighten it. Instead, Amadi's thoughts were now wandering to the subject of roommates. The guy he'd been sharing with for the past two years - an antisocial sort; the two had never exchanged more words than absolutely neccessary - had graduated the previous summer, leaving Amadi to dread who he would end up with now. Knowing his luck, he suspected it would be someone who would mock him for his deformity. Rolling up his baggy sleeve, Amadi stared at his left elbow, the point at which that arm abruptly ended, and sighed.

Life, he decided, could really suck.

[Milo Dearly]

Why do they ALWAYS have to be metal?

Milo lamented silently as he reached for the doorknob, then stopped abruptly after realizing... oh yes, it was indeed metal.

He hated metal.

Its texture was unnaturally smooth and when it wasn't it felt like it was rusty, therefore making him too scared of getting any residue on his hands to touch it. It was either too cold or too hot and most of all... it smelled awful. It was a sharp and tended to linger on his skin when he happened to touch it, a situation he loathed to the highest degree, as the smell always made him want to vomit and even gave him migraines.

Now the doorknob to his dorm, which he had been assigned to after arriving, was metal.

And now he had to touch it. Every. Single. DAY.

Milo's teal-blue eyes were wide and fearful as he continued to stare, hand outstretched and resisting clutching the scornful object protruding from the hardwood door. If he touched it with his bare hand, he'd have that metallic, sharp scent clinging onto it, and every time he put his hand to his face he would smell it, and he'd likely get a headache and nausea from the exposure. It wasn't worth the risk. But he couldn't just walk right through the door, he had to open it somehow...

Oh. Duh. He had sleeves. Sleeves were always good for situations like this-- said situations being having to touch things he really, REALLY didn't want to touch.

He rolled down the sleeve to the shirt of his uniform-- the fabric, of which, felt a bit itchy on his skin... and the tie kept on rubbing and bumping against his stomach, which was insanely annoying, and the collar was chafing his neck... he let those thoughts end there. Much as he hated fabrics that weren't a certain kind (if only they made more silk dress shirts...), he had to wear this uniform every day now... so he had to get used to it. He rolled the sleeve down, so that the cuff was past his fingertips, and gingerly he gripped the doorknob with his covered hand. He turned it and it released the door with a satisfying click. Mission accomplished.

This was the life of Milo Dearly, a life of sensory torture and endless worrying. He hoped whoever his roommate was would be able to deal with him. They'd be stuck with each other for a while, so he hoped at least they could cooperate.

He swung the door open and shyly poked his head inside.

"Uh... h-hi...?"

He slowly inched the rest of his body through the open door, shutting it closed with his still-covered hand. When he glanced inside, he saw his new roommate. He was a small guy, long black hair, and...

Milo couldn't help it. He glanced at the hanging sleeve, knowing exactly what it meant. He couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. He wouldn't say anything about it though. It would just be rude.

Amadi was laying on his back on one of the beds, looking tired... possibly even sad? Well Milo couldn't blame him. All this change could make anyone disheartened.

"Sorry... if uh, I... disturbed you or anything," Milo stammered, noticing that his sleeve still flopped over his hand as he gestured, quickly rolling it back up. "I-I'm new here and uh... I... guess you're my roommate then?" He ended his sentence with a sheepish chuckle. The boy was a bit shy and meeting someone new was never easy.

Again, he could only hope this boy wasn't mean, or at the very least was flexible. The room would probably have to be scoured down and cleaned so that every last inch was spotless, and he could only hope he wouldn't have to do all of that work... he'd catch so many diseases...

[Amadi Dearly]

Well. May as well get this over with so he could return to his misery. Amadi pushed himself upright, letting his shirt sleeve drop back to conceal his non-existant arm as his unusual orbs took in his roommate. The newcomer looked to be a year or two older than Amadi himself, black hair similar to his own, but cut shorter, also wearing the school's uniform - odd, since Amadi doubted it was compulsory until classes actually started - and of course, was staring at Amadi's empty sleeve, although he seemed to be trying not to make it obvious.

"Looks like it," the younger boy replied unenthusiastically, once the newcomer had finished his stuttered introduction. So maybe - for once - his depressive fears hadn't been realised; this guy seemed too nervous to be the sort who would make fun of anyone, even a deformed child of incest like himself. That didn't mean Amadi held any illusions that he and this boy would be friends. No-one would want to take the time to care about a depressed little thing like him, he was sure. Still, he may as well speak, let the other guy know who he was, at least.

"I'm Amadi. Deformed child of incest and shame," he stated blankly, not particularly caring how the older boy would react to that. With revulsion, probably. That seemed to be the norm; not that he could blame anyone for it. It was freakish and disgusting. The long-haired male didn't wait for what he assumed would be a predictable reaction, and instead just let himself flop back onto the bed, returning to staring up at the ceiling.

"I hate my life."

[Milo Dearly]

"...Oh..."

Milo was at a loss concerning how to respond to that. His sympathy for this kid just grew, but he couldn't think of a way to somehow comfort the other boy besides a muttered, "...s-sorry..."

He stood there for a moment near the doorway, looking like he wanted to try and say more, but soon gave up and dragged his luggage toward the other bed in the room. He'd have to start unpacking soon and hopefully clean the place down a bit... though he noticed the place actually looked pretty clean. This whole school, in general, seemed pretty well-kept. Aside from a few certain things, like doorknobs.

"If... it makes you feel any better," Milo said suddenly, glancing up from his bag. "...I'm an incest child too... a-apparently... I mean my animated parents, not my... uh... y-yeah, you know."

He sat down on the bed (which was a spring mattress, of course... great, now he was going to get punctured in his sleep, just his luck), and continued, "My parents are Lucky and Two-Tone... y-you know, from the 101 Dalmatians animated series from the 90's." He shuffled uncomfortably and added, "I'm not sure why I didn't end up like... well... uh... y-yeah..."

He was going to say "like you", but he quickly retracted the thought. That would definitely not be nice of him, and probably make his roommate hold disdain for him, something he definitely didn't want.

He began to bounce his knee up and down-- a habit he formed to releive stress-- and asked, "So... uh... who are your parents, Amadi?"

[Amadi Dearly]

Amadi's eyes had darted in Milo's direction when the other boy mentioned that he was born of incest too, but gave no other indication that he'd heard what his new roommate had said. At least until he actually mentioned who his parents were. Suddenly, Amadi was sitting up straight, just staring at Milo as though he couldn't quite belive what he was hearing. For a long moment, the long-haired youth didn't seem to know what to say in response to this unexpected revelation.

How was it possible? That this guy got away with being perfectly normal, while he... he was a deformed, depressed freak thanks to his parents' incest. He didn't understand, but it wasn't fair. It wasn't even as though their parents were from different families. He would be reminded of his own imperfections every time he looked at Milo... whoever was in charge of assigning roommates had a horrible sense of humour.

This bitterness soaked through to his voice when Amadi finally spoke. "Looks like we've got something else in common, then," he replied at last. "Mine are Lucky and Cadpig. Congratulations on not being a deformed freak." Without another word, Amadi rotated where he sat and let himself fall face-down into his pillow again.

Life sucked.

[Milo Dearly]

Milo frowned in response to Amadi's very bitter response. He actually felt guilty, and felt his gut twist as Amadi just flipped back onto the bed. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten off so light either, and he couldn't blame the other boy's anger (and probably jealousy too)... he wrung his hands togetehr nervously as he tried to think of a way to respond to this, perhaps not make his new roomate be quite so mad at him.

"Well... I'm not... totally normal," Milo finally said at length after a few moments of silence. "Physically I'm... I'm normal, I guess. But I have some issues... you know... in my head." He poked a finger at his temple as he said this.

It wasn't like Milo had a debilitating depression plaguing his every thought, forcing him to the point of laying in bed the majority of the time; but he DID have a debilitating paranoia that made the whole world seem like a gauntlet of death and pain. And senses that were not properly wired, causing him to have unusual reactions to different things. He had to point this out eventually, lest his roommate have to find out the hard way...

"I've got something called... uh... 'sensory processing disorder'," he said uncertainly. He'd only just been given the diagnosis only recently, right before he left for the academy. He'd never even known it was an actual thing, and especially not that everyone else didn't have the same issue. "It means my senses don't work right sometimes. Like uh... I've been known to puke because a high-pitched noise gave me a migraine," he shrugged.

He suddenly realised how completely dumb that sounded. He looked away from Amadi, muttering a, "But I guess that's dumb, huh...?"

[Amadi Dearly]

"Are you looking for sympathy? I've got my own mental issues to worry about. In my case, it's called depression." The youth hadn't even bothered moving, so his words came out muffled by his pillow, but not to such a degree that Milo should have any trouble making out what he'd said. Amadi didn't doubt that he was being rather unfair to the other boy, but he couldn't help the bitterness he felt any more than he could control the thoughts that daily accused him of being a worthless waste of life.

He should probably say something more, so that they weren't entirely getting off on the wrong foot, but the youth was at a complete loss as to exactly what. He'd never exactly been one for casual conversation, his depression casting too long a shadow over him for him to believe anyone actually wanted to spend any time in his company, and he didn't much like other boys in general, and so as inexperienced as he was, Amadi hadn't a clue what sort of thing to say. Instead, he just remained silent, glowering into the depths pf his pillow which, pressed into it as his face was, was all he could see.