Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction for entertainment only. The author does not condone anything herein; practice sex safely and legally. Any resemblances to real people, places and events (past, present or future) is unintentional.
This is the first of a handful of mini-chapters focussing events outside of Noah's experience...
Noah, the Embarrassed Nudist Chapter Three Addendum: Ronan & Herman
MONDAY 09TH AUGUST 2021
Ronan sat alone in the waiting area. There were others waiting for their own appointments, but he was alone... More or less
<<Which is it, more or less?>>
Ronan was never really alone – not with Herman, the invisible voice speaking in his hear at any time of the day or night. He could be very annoying. Ronan sighed through his nose and hunched forwards, clamping his hands between his knees and staring at his own feet. His legs restlessly bounced up and down in a gesture of agitation that he was not used to. Ronan usually felt detached and still, listless even. It was a negative symptom of his mental health – a deduction from his experience of the world. However, as Ronan's leg bounced he felt energised like an exposed nerve that couldn't stop.
<<it's a nice day outside you know. We could go for a walk. I'll take you for ice cream. You like ice cream, don't you?>>
"Not today," Ronan mumbled - his voice barely audible.
"Biscuits. Fourteen," said a voice and Ronan looked up.
There was a boy sitting in the corner - about the same age as Ronan - who had been saying random words at sporadic intervals since Rohan had arrived.
"Cheese. Ghostbusters," the lad said and he thumped his chest with a tight fist that was wrapped in padding. "Headphones."
>
Herman had a bloody cheek - for the disembodied voice inside a schizophrenic brain, he could be awfully judgemental. Sometimes, he was just awful. Ronan smiled at the lad who smiled back, adding a twitch of his head and another thump.
"Fuck. Jammy dodger," said the lad.
<<I'm just gonna move over there.>>
There were three others in the waiting area, in addition to Ronan and the boy with Tourette's. One was a girl a few years younger than Ronan and her mother. The girl was very skinny but otherwise perfectly ordinary. The other person was a boy who was facing away from Ronan. Ronan had caught a brief glimpse of him when he'd entered - the boy was big and unsmiling, with a face a physique fit for a boxer.
"Kevin? Come on in," beckoned a heavily pregnant woman with hair tied up off her shoulders stood in the threshold of her office.
Kevin, the forlorn lad, stood up and walked towards her.
<<We have been waiting literally forever!>>
Herman's protest prompted eye rolling from Ronan but he otherwise did not respond to the voice only he could hear. They, rather he, had only been waiting for literally twelve minutes.
"Ronan Henare?" asked a hopeful looking man.
The man was incredibly attractive.
<<Fucking hell! Excuse me while I imagine him with his crotch in my face.>>
"That's me," Ronan replied.
<<As him to unzip his flies, I want to check something.>>
Herman was right about one thing – the man was distractively attractive.
"Come in then," the supermodel/ doctor said.
When the door was closed, the man indicated a seat in front of his desk - he sat on the opposite side. The man was a few inches under six feet and had short brown hair on his head and face. His beard was carefully groomed and although he was a handsome man, he wasn't vain enough to get rid of the grey that flecked through his hair. He had blue eyes but a rich, olive complexion.
"Ronan, my name is doctor Jamal Bashir. I'm a psychiatric doctor who specialises in psychoses. You can call me whatever you're comfortable with. Is it ok if I call you Ronan?" the doctor asked.
<>
"Yes," Ronan answered and he sounded as nervous as he felt.
Jamal smiled kindly. He was in his mid to late forties but in great shape and exactly the kind of man Ronan would normally fantasise about in bed. It was difficult to imagine being horny at this exact moment.
"It's ok to be nervous, Ronan. That's totally normal," Jamal said. "I've been reading your notes. I understand you went to your GP a few months ago and reported hearing voices in your head? One voice or many?"
Jamal placed his hand flat on the desk in front of him, covering the pages with Ronan's notes. He knew Ronan had reported only one voice but wanted to give Ronan an easy question to answer. Besides, it was important to establish if anything had changed – if symptoms had worsened or the voice had multiplied.
"One voice," Ronan agreed.
"Hmm. It must have been difficult telling someone but you did the right thing going to your GP," Jamal reassured Ronan.
<<Ronan did the right thing? Sounds unlikely.>>
"Your doctor referred you to me but I'm sorry if it's been hard waiting for this appointment," Jamal said.
<<It's because he doesn't care. We should just leave.>>
"You also met Jacob, the CPN?" asked the doctor.
It was another easy question and a reminder of the support mechanisms in place for Ronan as he came to terms with what was happening to him and what might happen in the future.
Jacob was a community psychiatric nurse who had met Ronan a last month. There was a strange combination of slow and rapid response; at times it felt like it had taken forever to get here but the NHS had done an amazing job of referring Ronan to all the people he needed in a relatively short period of time. It wasn't their fault that Ronan had hid his problem for so long.
"Yes, I met Jacob," Ronan replied.
<<He's not as hot as doctor Bashir but he's alright looking.>>
"We work as a team so there will be a lot of people involved in your care. Especially right now. Your GP, Jacob your nurse, a social worker and me. I'll be leading the team," Jamal reported.
<>
Ronan's mouth twitched with impatience at the constant stream of irrelevant and irreverent comments from Herman. His eyes flashed with annoyance too and Ronan spotted the doctor noticing it. Ronan grinded his teeth to try and control his expression but Jamal leaned forward with a sympathetic expression.
"Ronan? You've been referred to me for what we call cognitive behavioural therapy," the psychiatrist explained. "CBT means we work together to figure out what's troubling you and then figuring out ways to change your feelings, behaviours or thinking to make life easier. It's important those goals are realistic."
"Ok," Ronan agreed.
<<He's just going to tell you what to do. Boss you around. Tell him what he wants to hear and we can go home.>>
Ronan seemed to space out for a moment and the doctor watched the teenager, thinking about the problems that had already been identified by the psychiatric nurse who had met Ronan a few weeks ago. It had been important to make sure Ronan was not in immediate danger.
"You GP and CPN may already have explained this but Schizophrenia is often misunderstood. On TV and in film, it is toxically been portrayed as `crazy' people who heard voices and have different personalities and try to hurt people," the doctor elaborated. "In fact, people with Schizophrenia are much more likely to hurt themselves due to the stresses of the disorder and the way people treated them because of it. That's why we need to be realistic about your goals and expectations."
Ronan had all but forgotten is initial lusty thoughts about the man. He was very handsome but he brought all of Ronan's thoughts down to earth with a thump. Even Herman had no pity remark to make.
"I think we should talk a little about the voice you hear, is that ok?" Jamal asked with gentleness and invitation.
<<The voice? I have a name you know.>>
Doctor Bashir noticed Ronan frowning and the teenager was still not looking at him. He was patient and waited for Ronan to answer the question – he would only prompt if he needed to. Jamal was used to working with people in a mental fog and he knew better than to engage Herman as if he were a person – Ronan was the patient and Herman was a psychosis.
"What... what do you want me to tell you?" Ronan asked.
<<Tell him I'm a smoking hot twenty-one-year-old. Swimmer build, soulful eyes... big balls.>>
"Ronan, would you agree the voice you hear is one of the most troubling aspects you've had to deal with over the last year and a half?" doctor Bashir asked.
<<Troubling? Fuck off! I'm delightful!>>
"Yes," Ronan replied.
"Well, cognitive behavioural therapy is about identifying problems and coming up with ways to manage them," Jamal replied. "To do that, I need to know about what you're experiencing and you need to be able to tell me what's troubling you the most."
<<You cannot trust this man, Ronan. Let's go get ice cream like I said.>>
"When I get stressed or scared Herman talks to me more, tries to tell me what to do or criticises me. I find it hard to talk about," Ronan admitted.
<<You shouldn't find it hard... unless you're stroking it or thinking about a hot guy.>>
"Hearing that voice is normal for you, Ronan. We should talk about what kind of things make it worse," the psychiatrist said.
"Herman himself makes it worse," Ronan said miserably.
<>
"What kind of things does he say?" Jamal asked.
"He told me not to talk to you," Ronan revealed.
<<Oh sure, blame me for everything!>>
"Most of the time he makes comments about what's going on," Ronan admitted.
<<That's not true! Sometimes I make overtly sexual comments about psychiatric doctors or fantasise about Noah.>>
"Do you find it hard sometimes to distinguish between your own thoughts and input from the outside world? It's common to perceive voices like Herman as someone who is thinking for himself," Jamal replied.
It was an important question – determining exactly how insightful Ronan was into his own psychosis. Jacob, the CPN, had already done a good job of gathering some of the information about Ronan's symptoms but if they were going to build an action plan, Ronan would need to share details with him too.
"I used to think he was like an invisible man. Someone standing near me and talking all the time," Ronan said. "But I know he's just in my head."
<>
Ronan had made eye contact with the doctor as he spoke and he felt a surge of guilt at the hurt in Herman's voice.
"Do you talk to Herman?" Jamal asked.
"Sometimes. When he's annoying me or keeps needling away at me, I snap at him sometimes," Ronan agreed. "But I try not to because no-one else can hear him so I just look stupid if I talk back."
"You're not stupid Ronan. It's natural to engage with stimuli we perceive as coming from outside. You hear Herman as you would hear my voice," Jamal reassured him.
<<He hasn't even asked for my side of the story.>>
"What I really meant, Ronan, was: do you ever have full blown conversations with Herman?" the doctor asked.
"No," Ronan replied. "He's too all over the place. He chats and offers soundbites, quotes, sings songs... when I decided to tell my friend about what was going on, Herman got really angry and harassed me. But I don't talk to Herman like I would a friend... or a doctor."
Jamal chuckled at the joke.
<<He likes you. Don't know why.>>
It was reassuring that Ronan was not entangled with his voice to that degree, it presented a more manageable plan for dealing with the hallucination.
"What is your friend's name?" Jamal asked.
"Noah," Ronan answered.
"You told Noah about hearing a voice before you told anyone else?" Jamal pressed.
"He's just a friend," Ronan said.
<>
"But you still haven't told anyone else..." the man started to say.
"I told you," Ronan interrupted grumpily.
"Yes, of course. I didn't mean to sound critical," doctor Bashir said.
<<See! He doesn't understand and he never will. We should leave.>>
If anything, Herman's petulance only reversed Ronan's sense of being criticised.
"I don't know how to tell my friends," Ronan admitted. "It took all my courage just to tell Noah. I haven't even told my parents."
The psychiatrist was pleased Ronan himself had identified this and opened it as a talking point. He would need to encourage Ronan to tell his parents, if he felt safe in doing so.
"Ronan, support mechanisms are going to be essential as you learn to deal with your condition," Jamal said. "It's not just about hearing a voice but the other symptoms you've told your CPN about."
The community psychiatric nurse, Jacob, had identified numerous symptoms.
"I know it can be hard to remember everything you've talked about. Is it ok if I read a list of symptoms Jacob has identified in preparation for you meeting me today?"
<<My head hurts. And we still don't have ice cream. Ronan, we need to go.>>
"Yes," Ronan responded quietly.
Doctor Jamal Bashir was methodical as he read through the list of symptoms and he was right that Ronan had never organised a list of all the ways his life was distorted. The Doctor was methodical:
"Ronan has an acute auditory hallucination, identified as Herman. No accompanying visual hallucination. This voice is often critical or distracting but Ronan recognises it as originating internally rather than an external stimuli.
Ronan has delusions that something bad will happen especially in relation to telling friends and family. These delusions are unhelpfully reinforced by auditory hallucination.
Ronan exhibits no specific speech disorganisation.
Ronan relates low to mild disorganised behaviour. He is able to identify variability in his daily function and impulse control but generally good insight into how his routine is affected.
Ronan has several negative symptoms including: insomnia, poor motivation, lack of interest, inattention and distraction. These symptoms are mild and intermittent.
Ronan admits to an active but infrequent sex life. Ronan describes no sexual dysfunction but also no stable romantic or sexual relationship."
<<He thinks you're crazy!>>
"This is impossible," Ronan said.
Tears sprang to his eyes and he had to fight against openly crying. The litany of all the things that were "wrong" with him felt overwhelming.
"Ronan, this is the toughest time for you. Everyone's experience of Schizophrenia is different but that's why we're starting to build a picture of all the positive and negative symptoms you have," Jamal said reassuringly. "These therapy sessions are about helping you to understand your own experience a bit better and agreeing ways to make them easier to manage."
"How?" Ronan asked.
<<They're gonna lock you up. And you'll never get ice cream again.>>
"Together, we will try to work on ways to avoid the things that stress you out and make your symptoms worse," the man said with sympathy and reassurance. "We'll also work out strategies to help you avoid acting on thoughts that are unhelpful or harmful to you."
"It just feels like I'll never get better," Ronan admitted.
<<You won't. But I'm here for you. Forever.>>
"You will, Ronan. Dealing with complex problems can feel overwhelming. That's why we break them down into smaller, more manageable parts to improve the way you feel or behave," the psychiatrist said.
"How?" Ronan asked.
"We should meet once a week for now and aim to have ten sessions initially. Does that sound ok? I want you to know what to expect."
<<Ten weeks with a shit hot doctor? He is too good for you.>>
"Can you make the voice go away?" Ronan asked quietly.
Doctor Jamal Bashir looked at Ronan sympathetically.
<<Make me go away? I'm not a desert you can send back to the kitchen because you didn't order it.>>
"Maybe. We can explore options for readjusting your thinking about the auditory hallucination, reducing stress can sometimes help to reduce its presence and in due course we can consider medication," the physician detailed.
"Can't you just give me a pill now?" Ronan asked.
<<A pill? I swear you're just like a pill, instead of making me better, you keep making me ill.>>
Ronan did not need a man singing Pink songs to him right now.
"Herman is singing Just Like A Pill but Pink right now," Ronan added before the doctor could answer his question.
<<Hey! You can't out my karaoke habits like that. What if I told him you're gay? Would you like that?>>
"We can discuss if you need other types of therapy another time but let's try to avoid medication. We should try behavioural solutions first and that means being pragmatic about what problems you have and what goals are realistic. I'm not here to tell you all the answers, Ronan. Or to tell you what to do. We're going to collaborate to find solutions that work for you."
Doctor Bashir was keen to make Ronan feel like he was the one in control, not a doctor making decisions for him.
"Like what?" Ronan asked. "What am I meant to do?"
"Let's start at the beginning," Jamal said.
<<Start at the beginning and continue until the end, then stop.>>
"You told your friend Noah. Have you found it helpful to have someone who knows?" the psychiatrist asked.
"I guess so," Ronan admitted.
<<But telling on me was the hardest thing you ever had to do, remember?>>
Herman liked to remind Ronan of the dangers of talking about him. Herman once described himself as being like Candyman – if you said his name to many times, he'd appear.
"Do you think you could tell your parents? Would they accept knowing something like this?" the doctor asked carefully.
Ronan would not be the first boy to be rejected by parents because of a complex mental health issue. It was only sensible to include telling others as part of the solution if it was a safe thing to do.
"Yea... I guess. They accepted me being gay after I was kicked out of a Catholic school," Ronan revealed.
<>
"I don't need reminding," Ronan replied unintentionally.
Doctor Bashir paused, allowing Ronan to decide how much he shared of his dialogue with Herman. Herman, the man was at pains to remind Ronan, was not a person. The voice was real, but Herman was not a person. How to manage that voice was something Ronan seemed to have a good grasp of already so they would just need to work on improving that strategy.
"I tried to tell mum and dad about Herman once," Ronan revealed. "After I was expelled for..."
<<Getting caught giving a boy a blowjob!>>
"For being gay, basically. I tried to tell them about the voice but it was hard and Herman made it harder," Ronan said.
<<Hey! Don't blame me for everything! Also, I'll make something else harder for you if you want.>>
"When was this?" Jamal asked interestedly.
"Over a year ago... fifteen months maybe. It was before I moved school and made friends," Ronan recalled.
"Like Noah? Friends are important, Ronan. It's good you have them for support even if you haven't told them yet," the man said thoughtfully.
"Do I need to tell my parents?" Ronan asked.
<<I think you should un-tell some people. That's what I think.>>
"No," the doctor replied very succinctly but added: "But I think you should consider it."
The doctor looked at the clock and sadly it was time to wrap things up.
"Ronan, I want us to come up with targets together and to agree what we will consider progress," Jamal said.
"Telling my parents would be progress," Ronan said.
<<Why are you still listening to this guy?>>
"Yes it would," the man agreed. "I want you to think about the progress you've already made too. Herman is a persistent and frustrating auditory hallucination who..."
Doctor Bashir glanced at his notes before quoting Ronan's own comments.
"...chats, soundbites, quotes, sings and sometimes gets angry or harasses you," Jamal recited. "Making changes can be stressful and make voices worse. It's important you know that and accept you'll make more progress some weeks than others. But you already have an impressive level of coping and management. Well done."
Ronan blushed and was grateful to the psychiatrist for recognising not only how hard things had been but also that he was already trying to help himself.
"So, is that it? Can I go?" Ronan asked.
<<Can WE go!>>
"Yes, you can go," Jamal agreed.
<<Yay! Ice cream!>>
"Next week we can discuss more about what your aims should be and you can let me know how you got on with telling your family or friends," the doctor said. "If you don't feel able to tell them, maybe you could think about what might make it easier to tell them in the future?"
<<Remember the doctor is really hot, take one last look at him for the wank bank.>>
"No," Ronan muttered as he headed to the door.
"See you next week, Ronan. Ok?" said doctor Bashir.
"Ok," Ronan replied.
Ronan departed, leaving the room with less tension than he'd entered with. As he stepped out into the sun and started to walk home, Ronan checked his phone for the time but noticed a message from Noah.
Noah: [Hey, how did CBT go?]
Noah: [If you want to talk, call me or come around. I'll be here for you. Naked lol.]
<>
Ronan put his phone back in his pocket.
When he had woken up in Noah's bed, he had felt his friend casually stroking his leg. It had been nice and yet Ronan had felt a sense of detached. That was an ironic way of thinking about it – feeling feelingless. Ronan had been told this was a negative symptom of his condition – robbed of something reality had to offer.
<<Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began; or if there were a day when it was not. It has no future but itself; Its infinite realms contain its past; enlightened to perceive; New periods of pain.>>
It was hard to tell if Herman was being insightful or hateful, mocking or satirical.
It wasn't physical pain Ronan felt but the blankness described by Emily Dickinson was apt enough. The poem Herman had opted to recite in that moment was a metaphor for Ronan's feelings (or lack of feelings).
"Oh fuck, I'm sorry."
Ronan felt a firm bump on his shoulder and only then realised he had walked into someone.
"Sorry," Ronan said too – because everyone apologises even if it's not their fault.
Neither Ronan not the lad had been paying attention to where they were going.
<<He's extremely attractive! Did you notice?>>
Ronan did notice.
The lad was wearing a tight, short sleeve t-shirt with denim shorts and trainers with no socks. He was very attractive! The lad was a year or so older than Ronan, EarPods emitted music faint enough of Ronan to hear and the lad also had his phone in his hand. Where Ronan had been lost in thought, the lad had been lost in his phone as he walked.
The young man moved on but Ronan looked over his shoulder to check out his ass and his legs.
<<Imagine spreading those things! Fuck me! Fuck him!>>
Herman thought about sex more than Ronan did. It wasn't that he wasn't interested – Ronan liked masturbation and having sex but he really didn't think about relationships. His community psychiatric nurse had interviewed him about it.
<<Lol. Jacob wants you to tell him all about your anal sex experiences.>>
"Sometimes people with schizophrenia find it hard to form interpersonal relationships, Ronan. Friendships, romantic or sexual relationships. Have you had any difficulties you'd like to tell me about?" Jacob had asked.
<>
Ronan had talked about Noah but admitted the thought had never even occurred to him to consider it a potentially romantic foray. Noah didn't want a boyfriend and Ronan hadn't given it any thought either. Ronan liked having sex though.
Ronan had stayed over with Ronan last night, waking up with Noah before attending his CBT with Doctor Bashir. Ronan might not think about romance but the memory of Noah answering the door with his penis exposed was very satisfying.
Noah left the door wide open for Ronan to enter and then turned to walk back to the living room. His butt was pert, the cheeks tight, his long, thin legs stretching beneath. The way Noah's hairless legs joined onto his peachy buttocks was just about the nicest thing Ronan could think of.
Ronan walked into Noah's living room after taking his shoes off and found Noah casually hanging out with his big brother Daniel and Dan's best friend Jamie. Noah literally exposed his penis and arse to his brother.
<<Noah is like a porn character who's about to get fucked by his step bro while mom and dad are working late.>>
Herman did not have a talent for accents and his American drawl bordered on racist... if being American counted as a race, which it didn't. It was a bad accent.
When Noah and Ronan eventually ventured to Noah's bedroom, Noah closed the door and leaned against it. Ronan turned to look at Noah who was smiling softly.
"You were starting to stressed. I thought you might like to get away from Dan and Jamie," Noah said.
They had watched a movie and then engaged in a stressfully competitive FIFA competition on Xbox.
"Yea," Ronan agreed succinctly.
"Does... you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Noah clarified before continuing. "Does Herman talk to all the time when you're doing things?"
"Not all the time," Ronan replied. "But when I'm tired or stressed or feeling other things, he can get a bit intense."
<>
"Sometimes melodramatic," Ronan added pettily.
<>
"Are you still tired, Ronan?" Noah asked suggestively.
Noah sauntered towards Ronan. His bare feet patting on the wooden floor, his limp genitals swinging.
"Do you want to have sex me?" Noah asked.
Ronan liked Noah's directness. It would be tough figuring out what people wanted or meant sometimes but Noah could be counted on to be unambiguous.
<<Say yes, dammit.>>
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Noah rushed to emphasise.
Ronan put a big hand on Noah's small face and leaned in to kiss his friend. Noah put his hands on Ronan's biceps and enjoyed the muscular feel of the upper arm bulges. Ronan's hands dropped so he could grab the bottom of his t-shirt and then he stepped back from Noah's lips and pulled his t-shirt off. Ronan dropped his shorts in quick order too and then he sat on the bed.
Noah knelt on one knee to pull Ronan's socks off and then gripped his underwear by the waistband and pulled them down. Ronan lifted his ass so they slipped off easily. Ronan was already half hard. Noah wrapped a hand around the brown, semi-hard flesh and jerked it until it became fully erect. Ronan covered Noah's hand with his own, helping his friend to jerk him for a few minutes.
Noah eventually pulled his hand away from beneath Ronan's, licking his palm and his fingers to taste the dick flesh. Noah stood up and Ronan grabbed his hips, pulling him close. Noah was still flaccid but Ronan kissed the floppy dick, licking it and enticing it into life. As the cock expanded, Ronan opened his mouth and started to suck.
Noah achieved full hardness in Ronan's mouth, oozing precum which Ronan swallowed.
Shortly thereafter, Ronan was lying on his back, his cock sticking straight up from his groin, and Noah was sitting on top. Noah rode Ronan's cock, facing his friend as he bounced up and down. Ronan held Noah by his waist, almost ticking his excitable love handles.
<<Ride it, ride it, come and touch my soul; ride it, ride it, let me feel you.>>
Herman's singing voice was a vast improvement on his accent. In this Regard anyway.
With each bounce, Noah's dick bobbed up and down too. Eventually, it was clear they were both getting closer to cumming. Ronan had only had sex a handful of times and Noah was clearly a more experienced bum-boy. However, Ronan had none of the usual anxieties of teenage boys. He didn't worry if he was good or not – he could see Noah was enjoying himself – and Ronan himself was certainly enjoying it.
It wasn't love-making or fucking but somewhere in between. It was not romantic love but neither was it emotionless or without affection. Noah and Ronan had sex.
<<Are you going to talk about ass-fucking in CBT tomorrow?>>
"Oh fuck!" Noah panted, grinding his arse into Ronan's lap, burying the dick deep inside himself. Ronan came, squeezing Noah's waist with his hands as the orgasm touched every part of his body, the sensations overwhelming him for a few moments.
<<Don't be rude, finish him off.>>
Ronan gripped Noah's cock while his friend was still sitting on his lap and started to stroke it. Messy precum made the noises in the room sound slippery and wet. Noah didn't lift himself to hump Ronan again but he shifted around with Ronan's dick still inside him, feeling the post-orgasmic pole slip and slide inside him.
"Oh, that's it," Noah said.
Noah's spunk fired into the air like a water fountain and landed in a pool on Ronan's chest. Noah giggled and after lifting himself off, insisted on licking his own cum from the wiry chest hair between Ronan's nipples. Ronan's brown skin, once milky with blobs if jizz, was not glistening with the wetness of Noah's tongue.
They slept after that, Ronan wakening to his naked friend and...
"Are you going to someone else's home, sweetie?"
Ronan stopped walking, turned around and saw he had walked past his own front garden. He had continued two doors down and might have continued walking robotically, distractedly, if his mum hadn't shouted. She was smiling at him as he walked back.
"I thought I might stay in Campbell's bedroom," Ronan suggested.
Campbell was an attractive eighteen-year-old neighbour.
"You're out of his league son," Ronan's dad said.
His mum was sitting on a bench in the front garden, nursing a cold drink in the summer sun. His dad was doing the garden and digging the weeds.
<<Doing the garden, digging the weeds, who could ask for more...>>
"Are you ok, Ronan?" his mum asked.
She wasn't sure what it was about his expression but something had worried her. His dad looked up as if he would be able to divine what was wrong just by looking at him.
"You've been awfully distracted lately Ronan," his dad agreed.
<<They know nothing. Lie to them. Fuck, weren't we meant to get ice cream on the way home?>>
Ronan didn't reply right away.
Ronan cast his eyes down, he felt sad and lonely and scared again but he wasn't going to let that stop him.
<<They're not like Noah, Ronan. They won't understand. They'll lock you up.>>
"They won't," Ronan replied to Herman.
"What?" his dad asked, bewildered.
"Mum. Dad. There's something I need to tell you..."
I hope readers enjoyed this insight into Ronan's ongoing journey with mental health. The main story will continue this week.
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My stories so far:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester
Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told and A Series of Embarrassing Events.
Ongoing (interconnected) short stories: Anthology.
Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures