Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 87 (Hendrix's POV) Group therapy sessions were supposed to be about healing. About connection. About putting our walls down and sharing our struggles. But today, as I walked into the brightly lit room, all I felt was dread.

Dr. Craig stood at the front with a clipboard in hand and his sharp eyes scanning the room. "Everyone, find a partner," he said as calm and commandingly as ever.

The room filled with murmurs and shuffling as patients paired up. I knew exactly what was coming, and my stomach turned. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thomas heading toward me, his confident stride as irritating as ever. "No," I said sharply before he could even get close.

Thomas paused, his brow furrowing. "What?" "I'm not partnering with you," I snapped and crossed my arms.

Dr. Craig looked up from his clipboard. He looked confused and disappointed at the stime. "Hendrix, Thomas is your assigned partner for this session." "Well, change it," I said coldly.

Thomas stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Con, man. Let's just get through this." "I said no." My voice was louder now, drawing the attention of the other patients.

Angel's soft voice cut through the tension. "Hendrix, it's just an exercise. Can we not make a scene?" Her words hitlike a slap. She didn't even look atwhen she said it. Her gaze was fixed on Thomas; her expression was calm, almost pleading. She was taking his side. Again.

I clenched my fists and tried my best not to let my anger burst through to the surface. "Of course, you'd say that," I muttered under my breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, finally looking at me.

"It means you're always so quick to defend him," I spat sarcastically. "Don't worry, Angel. Your boyfriend can handle himself." The room went dead silent. Every patient's eyes were on us now. Their stares were suffocating.

"Hendrix, that's enough," Dr. Craig said firmly.

But I wasn't done. "I'm not doing this. I'll go see Dr. Joe for my therapy instead." Dr. Craig hesitated. I could see his authority wavering at the mention of Dr. Joe. He sighed and nodded. "Fine. Go." Without another word, I stormed out of the room, not allowing my anger and frustration to makeflip. I didn't need this. I didn't need them. I didn't need her.

I found myself in one of my usual spots-a secluded corner of the courtyard where the noise of the center faded into the background. The cold metal of the PS5 controller in my hands was the distraction I needed at the moment. The screen in front offlickered with the bright colors of the game, but my mind wasn't on it.

Instead, it was on her.

Angel.

I couldn't stop the memories from flooding in. Her laugh when we were kids. The way she'd stick up forwhen I got into trouble. The way her eyes sparkled when she was happy.

We'd been a team once. Just the two of us against the world. But now... now, she was with him.

I put down the controller and leaned back, closing my eyes. Her face was there, so vivid and so bright, hauntinglike a ghost I couldn't exorcise.

Why did it have to be him? Why Thomas, of all people? I rubbed my temples and tried to push the thoughts away. But they glued tolike shadows, refusing to let go.

(Bundah's POV) The sun was setting over the courtyard. I sat on one of the worn benches, fiddling with a loose thread on my sleeve. Charlotte was next to me. Her notebook was open on her lap as she scribbled something in neat, tiny letters. "What are you writing?" I asked and leaned over to peek.

She smiled shyly, her cheeks turning pink. "It's... nothing. Just swords. French words." "Teach me," I said, grinning. "I need to impress you with my terrible pronunciation." She laughed, and her accent was thick as she said, "Okay. Repeat after me. Je m'appelle Bundah." I tried to mimic her, but my attempt was laughably bad. She giggled, and it sounded musical. "Non, non, like this-Je m'appelle Bundah." "Je... meh-pel Bundah?" I tried again, squinting at her.

Charlotte shook her head, still laughing. "No, no, no. You sound like a duck." "Hey, ducks are charming," I said, pretending to pout. "But fine. Teachmore."

For the next few minutes, we went back and forth. She was patiently teachingphrases and I was butchering them with every attempt. It felt good normal, even. For a moment, I could almost forget where we were. But then her laughter faded, and her expression grew serious. She closed her notebook and looked out at the courtyard, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Bundah," she said softly. "Do you... do you ever get scared here?" The question caughtoff guard, and I hesitated. "Yeah," I admitted. "All the time." She nodded, and her gaze grew distant. too. I'm scared of what they'll do to us. Of what they've already done."

I swallowed har as her words sunk in.

"We'll get out of here," said firmly! "We just have to stick together. You, me, all of us." Charlotte looked atwith glistening eyes. "I hope so." Without thinking, I reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We will," I said. "I promise." She smiled, a small, hopeful smile, and for the first tin a long time, I felt like we actually had a chance.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, we sat there, hand in hand, finding solace in each other's presence. And it was the most peaceful I had ever felt.