#chasexdelaney

It had been a bad day, the promise of leading in to a bad week and Elliot was just talking to himself. Being alone in the apartment when he got home, he had expected to still be alone when the insults flew. Talking aloud could be calming, helpful. Better than talking in his head like  he tended to do when things got too hard.

He watches Chase in front of him, eyes wide from having been caught moments before and the comment had slipped free.

Because it's true.

"Me..mostly." Elliot rubs his hands together in front of him, hates the feeling of Chase's gaze on him. He didn't spend time with many people any more that called him schizo.

Shayla had before, stopped when we got closer but Darlene still does. Chase couldn’t really be asking that though, it was rhetorical question. Right?

Chase was still new to him, was different than anyone he's met. It was hard to know what he wanted when he asked things like that. He doesn't want to point out that he sees things, that the men in black were possibly his imagination.

    That shower had been to no use. The long hair was already glued to his face and he felt clammy and sweaty all over. He had found a corner outside in the safe zone where it seemed people wouldn’t find him for at least a while. Actually leaving the safe zone didn’t feel quite safe in this state - he was clear enough in the head to realise that. He sat down on the ground and rested his head in his hands, breathing noisily through his nose. God, he hated this. The worst thing was, he wasn’t sure of what had triggered it this time. 

     There was a whimper as his fingers curled around the hair. He probably deserved this happening anyway. He swallowed and forced a deep breath as he fumbled after the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Fishing out one together with the lighter, the pack was thrown away in a moment of frustration. His hands were shaking as he tried to light the cigarette, taking several tries before he finally managed.

chasexdelaney

Missy had been the one to bring the flier to him, had been really excited about finding out about the group "just for people like you" and she hadn't meant anything by it, not purposely but it still stung. Reminded him that no matter how many times that he told people 'he and him' or stuttered the name he had been given by his mother instead of the one he preferred, it was still considered strange to so many people. It didn't mean that he didn't want to go to the group, at least give it a chance.

There was a table of snacks, cookies, chips, what may have been carrots and other healthy things among the sugary things off to the side. Drinks under the table still in their boxes. It didn't seem too horrendous, not yet at least. Grady's learned after years with his brothers to never trust the way anything looks right off the bat. Back pack set beside the seat, Grady watches a few of the people milling about as he pulls his hair up back in to the pony tail it had been that morning before he had gotten the headache that had prompted him to let the hair loose. If it was up to him, all of it would have been cut off but momma was still throwing a tiss over Missy cutting her hair to her shoulders and Grady wanted to just stay under their mom's radar for the time that he can.

Burying his hands in the pocket of his hoody, he wanders over to the little sign in sheet, listens to the group nearby as they spoke about something he couldn't actually hear. Signing in, Grady returns back to his seat and debates just leaving as more people wander in, ages ranging from what Grady thinks had to have been middle schoolers to seniors and he starts to feel uncomfortable. He can't believe he let Missy convince him to skip ballet class for this and he has half a mind to try catching the bus to the studio before any more people come in.