Fandom Island Counseling Services and Psychiatry, Wednesday

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal was back in practice today, after having taken some time off due to his injuries, and was happy to be up and about a bit more.

Unfortunately, it meant having to turn more than one patient's discourse back to their own issues and away from him.

Still, it was a good day.



[Open post! Come get therapy or talk to Hannibal!]

Comments

[myownface]

Sparkle wasn't going to do this. This was stupid. This was so fucking stupid and he was feeling off and tired and a bit like clawing at his own face these days, and he needed to scream at the walls at the mirror out over the water at everything, and.

And.

He wasn't okay.

And showing up at Hannibal's door looking like he hadn't slept a wink in days and smelling like he'd showered three or four times just to get the smell of weed off of himself was probably not going to help him conceal that fact. But here he was, eyes on his toes, tired and done and with his tail between his legs, so to speak.

And, entirely against his better judgement, knocking at the door.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal opened the door with a pleasant look on his face that immediately faded to a frown. "Sparkle. Please, come in."

He ushered him gently to a seat, and without asking poured boiling water over tea and started getting out a plate of little scones he kept in here.

[myownface]

Sparkle didn't resist the ushering, not really. He just kind of let himself be deposited into a seat, and sat there scuffing his toes against the floor for a minute while Hannibal set to getting refreshments together.

It took him a few minutes before he mustered up a, "Hey."

Which, well, it was forward progress, of a sort.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Hello." Hannibal smiled gently and brought over a tray to set on the table between their chairs. "How are you doing?"

It wasn't as if he couldn't tell the answer, but he was interested in how Sparkle would answer.

[myownface]

"Tired," Sparkle admitted, because really, it wasn't like that part was any sort of secret. "And... lost. Lost, I guess."

Yeah, that about summed it up. Or at least narrowed it down slightly.

"I keep doing this, like, kind of figurative sort of walking into walls... thing."

And okay, a bit of literal walking into walls, too. But he wasn't about to admit to that part.

[sharp_as_knives]

The figurative was more important anyway.

Hannibal nodded. "Have you been avoiding sleep, or has it been avoiding you?"

[myownface]

Sparkle quietly chewed on the inside of his cheek for a minute before answering.

"Both? Both, sort of," he admitted. "I put off sleeping. I don't want to see the things I see when I close my eyes. And then sleep catches up with me and I do see those things and I wake up and can't get back to sleep anyway, so sleeping was clearly a mistake."

He missed sleeping through the night. He really did.

[sharp_as_knives]

"And yet, you need to sleep," Hannibal pointed out, not unkindly. "Being overly tired leaves you less able to cope with everything the dreams bring up. It's a vicious cycle."

He nudged the scones toward Sparkle. "I have a few suggestions, if you'll take them."

[myownface]

Sparkle's shoulders bunched up a little as he looked at the scones, and then tentatively reached to pick one up. He'd end up holding it in his hand for a while before it would make its way to his mouth, but this was a sort of forward progress on its own.

"I'm all ears," he murmured, staring at the scone in his hand. "It's your job to know these things, right?"

[sharp_as_knives]

"It is," Hannibal said. "And there are a few methods, both behavioral and chemical, of improving your sleep. What have you attempted so far?"

He poured the tea and added just the right amount of milk and sugar to it for Sparkle.

[myownface]

Sparkle glanced up from the scone long enough to watch Hannibal prepare his tea. Just the way he liked it. Because of course Hannibal would remember that kind of thing. He sighed and fidgeted with the scone a bit.

"Weed," he supplied, because... mostly he figured Hannibal wouldn't give two shits about that sort of thing, all things considered. "A lot of the places online suggest stuff like making sure it's totally dark first, but... I don't wanna."

The dark was just as bad as closing his eyes. He turned the lights off when he left the room. Not so much while he was still in it.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Darkness is best for our bodies, but not always for our minds," Hannibal said. "If you can't avoid a light, I would suggest a small red light bulb or LEDs; that would be the least disruptive."

[myownface]

"I can't trust the dark," Sparkle murmured. "I keep seeing lights in the dark."

That was the hell of it. The worst thing about the darkness was the fact that he kept seeing flashes of the opposite.

"Maybe I get a night light or something, then. Probably easier on the power bill anyway."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal nodded. "Have you attempted sounds as well - different wavelengths of noise, or calming environments?"

[myownface]

Sparkle fidgeted for a moment, then pulled out his phone and opened up an app on it before setting it down next to the scones for Hannibal to look at if he wanted to.

He wasn't feeling quite up to just passing it over at the moment, but that was less a Hannibal thing and more a personal space thing at this point. Mostly.

"Kind of both," he said, shrugging. "It's brainless and calming. But, you know, probably not a great sign that I've unlocked both fish that I need to be poking the game at a stupid hour of the night for."

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal picked up the phone and took a minute to look over the app. "More to the point, if you're poking at this game, you're not actively trying to get to sleep."

He set Sparkle's phone down and stood, then headed for the sound system. He put in a CD, picked up the remote, and walked back over to the couch, patting it. "Come. Sit over here."

[myownface]

Sparkle reached for his phone again and kind of clutched it to his chest. It and his scone. It was his scone, dammit. He could hold it dearly if he wanted to.

"If I'm not trying to get to sleep, I'm not thinking about how much I don't want to be sleeping," he noted, quietly. Still, after a bit of hesitation, he shimmied out of his chair again and kind of sidled his way toward the sofa. There was a stiffness to his movements, the kind that gave away the fact that he was still kind of forcing himself to do much of anything.

He was trying not to look like he was about to crawl out of his own skin, at least. It would probably have anybody who didn't know him fooled. Shame he wasn't keeping company with any of those people.

[sharp_as_knives]

But those people didn't care about Sparkle, and Hannibal did. He waited patiently as Sparkle made his way over. "Recline here. Get comfortable. I'll be sitting nearby -" he pulled up a chair, "- but this space is entirely yours."

[myownface]

"Mine," Sparkle echoed, fidgeting with his phone for a second, mostly to turn it off again, before stuffing it into his pocket. Along with the scone. Less because it was a force of habit (though to some degree it was) and more because he wasn't entirely paying attention.

So far as biscuits that he could pocket went, at least it was just a scone?

His jeans would survive. Probably. He didn't seem to be too concerned about them as he sank down into the sofa.

[sharp_as_knives]

The scone might not survive, but there were others. At least it wasn't a cream puff.

Hannibal put a brief reassuring hand on Sparkle's shoulder, then sat in his chair. He turned on the stereo, which played pink noise. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath."

[myownface]

Sparkle's look was dubious at best, though it was probably telling that he didn't flinch away from Hannibal's hand this time. He'd come to terms with the idea that if Hannibal intended to hurt him, he either would have done it by now, or he was playing the long game. And if it was that one... well...

Him and everybody else he'd ever looked up to.

So.

He nodded, chewed on his lip for a second, and then closed his eyes and breathed in.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Good," Hannibal said. "Now let it out slowly. Keep breathing, slowly in and out. Listen to my voice. Focus on nothing else - only what's here now."

Hannibal had many long games, but none of his plans for Sparkle involved him on the wrong side of his cooking knives.

[myownface]

Sparkle pursed his lips for a moment, but he nodded and continued to breathe, in and out, listening to Hannibal's voice. He wasn't entirely sure what this game was. Just some relaxing exercise or something? It wasn't really why he'd come here. But the more time he spent here, the less he found himself actually thinking about his reasons for finding himself at Hannibal's door.

In fairness, with as tired and as distressed as he'd been since the summer, and with as many things knocking around his mind as he had, losing why he came here to the soft timbre of Hannibal's voice wasn't difficult at all. It was practically inevitable.

In and out. Remembering to breathe.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Never forget to breathe," Hannibal reminded him. "Particularly when you need to sleep. Breathe slowly, calmly. Concentrate on it. Ignore any other thoughts. Push them out with your breathing."

[myownface]

Sparkle took in another breath - in, out - before frowning faintly. Usually the opposite was the case. Usually it was the thoughts crowding out the air, choking him until he felt like he was empty and he couldn't possibly inhale ever again.

In.

Out.

Pushing out his thoughts. Using the breathing to crowd them away, instead of the other way around.

In.

Out.

Breathing.