qunqun
Give me your herbs, worm.
Let's Fall in Love
FINNEAS
Graham Byrne
So, Graham was in therapy now. And they were working on his rock bottom self-esteem and the whole idea that he “deserves happiness” or whatever. Well, this would’ve all gone over way smoother if he had access to liquid courage, but apparently drowning in alcohol was “unhealthy” (tell that to his family) and was “unneeded” and besides… he needed to be sharp.
Alcohol, unfortunately, dulled the senses and even though he kind of really wanted to drink at the sight of Max’s morose teenage phase – seriously, was shittily wearing all black with no sense of fashion a rite of passage for teenagers – and he was positive that the teenager would welcome the drinking as an ice breaker, he decided against it ultimately.
He wasn’t going to inflict the culturally ingrained alcoholism onto his ward for the time being… That could come later after the big talk that they were going to have about communicating openly with friends.
Graham started signing to Max, he’d gotten better at grasping American and British sign. Though, he did have to say that he was fairly certain that words would sometimes get mixed up, and he signed in a different style – its own form of accent, he supposed.
“Make yourself comfortable, do you want anything to drink? Eat?” He signed to Max. “I have a couple of other friends coming, you’ll like them. When… when Aoife… died, I let all of my friendships go, and it really compounded my issues when I felt like there was nobody who actually wanted me for me.”
According to his therapist, his friends had all been very surface-level anyways, but that wasn’t really necessary for this conversation. And he was still working on that last part.
“Don’t make that mistake as well.” And with that there was a knock on the door. “My friends knocked, you should mingle. Sign with them. They know ASL, it’ll be a good bonding experience. Keep your mind open. Don’t immediately run.”
He stood and walked over to where he opened the door, keeping himself carefully positioned so that Max couldn’t see who was at the door.
The Bible immediately caught his eye.
“... Are you actually doorknocking?” Graham asked, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Trying to convert me to your religion?”
He let it hang just long enough to allow tension to build. “I’m just fecking with y’all. I just chatted with him a bit, trying to prep him for the emotional assfuck-”
Graham stopped talking before he said something that maybe Josh’s precious virginal ears wouldn’t be able to handle.
“-Anyways, come on in.” Trying to quickly scurry past the swearing as he allowed them in. The apartment was warm, despite the kind of shitty complex he lived in, he seemed to make an effort at least to have a comfy sofa and chairs. There was also a dog that slept in a corner, and a lot of plants hanging from the ceiling.
Graham allowed them to come in. “Kick off your shoes, you want some water?” Signed as well as spoken.
“Max don’t run, they just want to communicate with you.” Graham signed, taking a small stand by the door just in case he tried to run.
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