[Counselor's Office] Passerby, beware of black ice

I'm sorry that it's late and maybe awful, FORGIVE ME ;;

Wong Ha Jung

Just as desperately as Jacob was trying to find a reason to get Wong Ha Jung on his side, Wong Ha Jung was trying to find a reason to stay on his side since, going by the counselor's logic, he had always been there anyways. Drugs, yes, good reason, done. He nodded vigorously as Jacob spelled out the case for himself, feeling much more alert than he had in a while.

"Don't do them again," he said immediately after the man had stopped talking, leaning forward a little as he did. "I know, it wasn't your fault and you've probably heard and given the Drugs Are Bad talk enough time in your life but-" and he promptly lost any resemblance of stoicism at the following- "they will always mess you up! They're some of the worst things in existence and even the prescription ones will start to do things you after a while, if not in mind, then in body. And then if you're at it enough times, you fall into things like dependence and suddenly it all gets ugly really fast!" That him mostly speaking from personal experience right there.

It wasn't that he was angry at Jacob at all, although he was a few hairs short of starting to wave his arms around frantically. It was just that this particular issue was something that Wong Ha Jung had an especially strong opinion about. Whenever it came up, it tended to make him feel anxious and really, his throwing it out earlier had been the result of wildly guessing exactly what Jacob had just voiced. That yes, the opposite of pacifistic, polite, and faithful -psychotics would do that.

"Just don't go to wherever that was again, okay?" Because really, what could he do besides give a bunch of warnings? Jacob was a grown man and could theoretically do as he pleased. "Keep yourself away from that stuff, keep your girlfriend away. Just, keep yourselves safe."

Experiencing clear, natural emotions again was very strange. "It's good that you told her, at least," Wong Ha Jung said after a moment, much more soft spoken as he reigned those feelings back in. "There's got to be trust between the two of you if you're going to keep on with this relationship and that means telling each other about what happens, even if it's bad. Especially if it is, actually."

"Honestly, I probably won't be able to give you the best advice, partially because I don't know anything about your girlfriend's personality. Sometimes people are better off sorting things on their own, sometimes the time just makes them stew. But having steady, honest communication always helps, I think."

Wong Ha Jung

He used to be good at this sort of thing. That was the thought that kept running through his head. He used to be good at reassuring people and getting them to calm down. Now it seemed like all he could do was make them worry, or blow up exactly in the same way that Jacob was now. Really, Wong Ha Jung should have known better. He had known better. Even as he said those words -for once without thinking, for once without worrying or considering- he knew that they were the wrong things to say. Usually, this sort of confrontation was the type that he'd run from. If not physically, then figuratively.

But the stupid wheelchair was preventing him from running away and in any case, the more he thought things like I'm just no good -oddly enough, the desire to up and leave was dissipating fast. Even more strange was the fact that he was starting to feel. just. a bit. angry. Not at himself or even Jacob. Just angry in general.

And even though that realization was a shock, Wong Ha Jung also noted that it was getting dangerously to that point where he simply did not care because for starters-

"I did hear what you said. I don't think you heard what I said, however." His voice was complete flat and somewhat hazily, a part of him acknowledged that it was completely and utterly out of character. But after a point, it was just so tiring to one, try to be positive when what he really wanted do was sit in the corner and cry, or two, just not care about anything at all. It's just so bland. Why does is it that everything I feel always has to be bottlenecked to these two options?

"I'm not assigning blame, Jacob," he clarified, although he did feel slightly provoked and wasn't doing all that much to keep it hidden. It was pretty clear in the way that he was frowning at the corner of his desk. "I'm telling you, as a person who is completely unable to defend himself against even a mosquito, that I want you to be safe and I can't actually help you out with that in any capacity due to being dead weight, which would have been perfectly literal description anyways if not for you."

"I'm also giving you the standard Drugs Is Bad whatever," the counselor pressed on with increasingly frantic energy, "because you know what, it really sucks and they're easy to get addicted to and this is my paranoid way of making sure in some small degree that one incident hasn't gone and uprooted the rest of your life because that can really happen. And I do like you and I do think you're a good person. But drugs, they don't care about any of that. They just do things to you. It doesn't matter if you let them or not; they'll just bulldoze their way through."

His fingers were twitching in anxious motions so he fisted his hands, feeling uncomfortable and wrong in his skin. "You're a grown man, I'm not your supervisor, there's no place in the world that's safe, and nobody is capable of living in a padded cell. So what I'm saying now is less of advice to you and more of a prayer to God with you as witness. I am extremely sorry this has happened. May you never have to deal with that again, whether that comes from luck, experience, wisdom, divine guidance, whatever you want to call it. Amen and I'm sorry that I'm utterly useless to you in every way but I guess that's just the kind of person I am, even if I'm forever in this work in progress stage of trying to get better but not really."

And with that said, Wong Ha Jung went ahead and threw himself under his desk in terror because spelling out exactly everything he was thinking, spilling out all of his logic patterns in that way, immediately stripped him of all the courage he had built up in that moment. Suddenly, he wasn't sure that he didn't like not caring about things anymore. It would have made the entire conversation that much easier. Then he wouldn't have said those stupid things at the beginning.

I must have hit my head. No, really, the pain was a really convincing argument. Also, the footrests of the wheelchair were digging into his side. Maybe he shouldn't have just thrown himself onto them. But it would have looked really strange if he had gone about the process slowly checking to see if he could not hurt himself for a change.

I just gave very upset lecture to a very distressed and maybe drunk colleague. And now I am hiding under my desk. And I don't think I can actually get out now because my legs have locked up.

Well. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough against the wood, he could knock himself out.

Wong Ha Jung

As he listened first to Jacob's calls and then the silence, Wong Ha Jung was sure, absolutely certain, that if he tried to say anything, he would only succeed in making himself sick. There was just this palatable terror like bile in the back of his throat, and he was so tired of going on and holding it there that he thought maybe he should simply shut up and swallow it already. Maybe that would make things better. Calmer. Maybe it would be like taking pills, but actually effective for a change.

The silence was maybe helping, maybe not. He imagined Jacob staring at him through the wood, confused and probably with some contempt. He prayed to God that it would be absent of pity, because the thought of it put a chill up his spine. In a way, its presence would have been a confirmation of the growing doubt in his mind that he was in any way suited for any position of authority. Giving up wasn't what he wanted to do, but it was becoming an option and that bothered him.

There was a noise from above him, of a can being popped open. Wong Ha Jung tilted his head back and stared at the dark wood. The space in between was measured only in a few measly centimeters. The desk wasn't much of a barrier either, now that he thought about it. It was only an inch of wood at most between his back and the other man's legs. No matter how many obstacles there were, people were always close by, it seemed. The thought might have reassured him at some point but for the time, his mind was wandering and filed that information away rather carelessly.

"People are always better than they think they are," the counselor said, vaguely wondering what it would sound like to Jacob's ears. Would it sound inspiring at all? Would there even be a hint of the amount of feeling that he would have put into it in the past? He himself thought that the words sounded flat, because over time, the emotions he had put into them had built up into such stable, immovable ground. Wong Ha Jung felt that they were an unshakable truth. It did not matter anymore how much passion he put into saying it, because it was impossible to make anything more true than it already was.

So why bother putting in the effort to convince others, right? The contempt behind that thought was all his, aimed at himself. If anything, Wong Ha Jung was at least self aware. Usually.

"It's not your fault, Jacob. You're having a bad week, and I suppose I'm having a rather ineffectual few months. I probably should have said so earlier." He sighed. "My apologies." Actually, it was really quite lovely having the shade over him. Maybe it was just his imagination but he did feel a little like he'd fade away in light. (It was always better think like this, with metaphors and hyperbole because distance could be nice.)

"It does sound like the two of you need to sit down and have a good talk, though," he said after a thought. "You're a good man. Pretty everybody knows it. Your girlfriend probably does, too. Sometimes bad things happen. You can't let them-"

Frowning to himself, he stopped for a moment before restarting. "You can't let one bad incident define you for life. And yes, I know, this is one of those incidences of pot calling kettle but..."

Wong Ha Jung

"N-no! I'm quite all right down here, sorry, thanks!" Although, he did hesitate a little as he responded, mostly because he knew that saying it like that only tended to cause worry. "It's um. Dark. And that's kind of nice, I guess." And he thought that he might have bruised his shins, too, but those would heal quickly enough so that was unimportant. It wasn't like he did much on his feet these days anyway.

"Ah, you can't really prepare for things that life throws your way," Wong Ha Jung said, huddling more into the hollow of the desk. "You can try and think that you're really doing it, but then things will actually happen and they'll take you off guard most of the time regardless of what you've done." He shrugged a little, not that Jacob could see it. "Bumps in the road. Sometimes it hurts getting off of them. It's nice to have other people to help. It makes thing moves things along faster and easier. Going at your own pace, though. That's fine, too, I guess."

Settling into a short, uneasy silence, he could almost pretend that Jacob wasn't there and that he couldn't hear him sniffing on the other side of the desk. The illusion of privacy could be a powerful sedative in situations such as this one and for the moment, Wong Ha Jung was willing to take the time to simply treasure it and think of nothing. Being neither happy nor unhappy was a decent enough state of mind and the absence of meaningful thought at all tended to invoke that by default.

But at the same time, he supposed that it wasn't that great of an idea to stay down there. It was childish, wasn't it? He liked to think sometimes that he was a grown man and thus above things like hiding under his desk to get away from his problems. Actually, though, I really wouldn't mind... However, Jacob might. The problem was that it seemed so awkward just getting up like nothing had happened, and the moment would only be stretched longer by the fact that he'd have to literally drag himself out and up. More time to make a fool of himself. More than he already was doing.

Embarrassment coming over him, he covered his face instinctively. "Jacob," Wong Ha Jung said in a cautious tone of relative calm. "I think I messed up. Is this awkward yet? I don't know what's supposed to happen now."

Wong Ha Jung

As Jacob moved into his line of sight, Wong Ha Jung instinctively scooted backwards a bit more, causing his head to bump against the wood. Ah… But he smiled weakly and ignored that urge to curl up and disappear. It wasn’t like he had been putting on a good show for the entire time that Jacob had been there anyways.

“If you say so,” he said doubtfully, about doing “fine.” “If you’re feeling better about things now, then I’m glad.” A vague, troubled frown appeared on his face as he went on, muttering a little. “I really am sorry for earlier. Ah, I've become a bit thoughtless in how I speak of things lately. It's just one of those things. I'm sure I know what I'm supposed to do to make it stop but it's not quite registering yet.” Maybe if he just took a few sedatives and hibernated for a month, that would make everything okay.

The man shook his head, "There's a couch back there if you need it," he told Jacob, trying to make himself helpful. "If you don't mind, I think that I'll just stay down here until my legs feel a bit better." With a bit of sudden panic, Wong Ha Jung started to explain, "You know, it really is kind of comforting once you get used to it. Staying down here,