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“What a man!”
“He’s a legend!”
Their faces fade as soon as they disappear from my window. Royal etiquette requires me to greet them and thank them for their kind words. I do that, but it steals a piece of my soul that I’ll never get back. I don’t understand the magnitude of my son’s fame on Katantia. It was already fucked up to share my son with Americans. The media couldn’t wait to tear him a new one if he only said one thing wrong. If he scratches his arm, they call him a junkie. If Alex raises his voice, they call him an entitled kid from the projects. Every move he makes is scrutinized.
Katantians don’t give a shit about any of that. Half of them are immigrants in this country, escaping the West’s conformities. They were a part of the bullying, the constant harassment. Yet, once you land on Katantia, you become an entirely different person.
There’s a new pussy on a gossip magazine every other week, and I’m not talking about cats or Playboy. They’re absolutely crazy in this country, and I hate that they love us so much. Kamila thrives in it. She was born to be the Queen of Katantia, although her family tried their hardest to keep her from the position.
The love she gets from her people energizes her. I don’t feel the same way. It drains me. I didn’t set out to be loved by anyone. I didn’t even want my face to be recognizable. In America, nobody knows who I am. We work very hard to keep my face out of the international news.
I can’t afford to fail when Katantia and my family look up to me. The pressure I’m under is crushing me, and I fear that I’m being too sensitive. Fylox has adapted. Fylox’s in his own orbit, and his nucleus is Kamila and everything that comes with her.
We’ve got hostile neighbors, foreign research vessels, bomb threats, and domestic terrorists. Half a million people require a robust intelligence system. We’ve been building upon Travis’ work, expanding his ideas of border control. I had a look into some of the protocols he kept, and almost ninety percent of them were documenting threats to Aram, Kamila, and various sex stores.
Religious groups aren’t happy about Katantia, and they make sure we know that.
The three minutes pass, and I make my way into the Queen I hospital. Undisturbed, I waltz into the department of mental health. I’m intimately familiar with the route to Ivy’s office, but today, I’m not as tranquil as I usually am when I go to therapy.
My insides are twisting, and my head isn’t in the right space for a calm discussion about what’s bothering me. I can hear my heart breaking apart inside of my chest, and I have no fucking clue how to calm myself.
This isn’t me. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
I knock on the door because I’m a polite asshole.
“Come in.” Having been inside of hersafe spaceand her body, I recognize two sides of her. I’ve never considered it, but I should’ve known better. I’m the same. Her voice is soft as honey when it’s just the two of us in hersafe space. In her office, she remains stern and professional. She’s warm, but she’s not hot like she was when she sucked my dick in public. She’s curious but discreet.
Ivy’s been asking me questions for years, and I’ve never answered them honestly.
Her merciful posture at her desk freezes when she detects me.
Now that I’vefelther insides, Ivy’s doe eyes convert me into a believer.
“Our therapy sessions are over,” she tells me after an uncomfortable moment of silence. The soft voice from hersafe spaceis gone. She’s professional now, and I’m just another lousy patient. “Please, exit my office. I’m expecting another patient soon.”
“Your schedule has been cleared,” I inform her, taking my usual seat on the couch. I still hate this setting, and I wish that we could do this in her home.
Ivy’s about to object, but then she clicks her mouse. Her doe eyes scan the screen in front of her, and she groans in frustration. I’m amused, and I feel lighter already. It’s been a week and a couple of days since we’ve been alone.
“I haven’t consented to have you as my patient again,” she states. There’s no smile on her face, no kindness. I’ve hardened her shell, and I’m here for it. Good little doe.
“Well, here I am. I don’t need your consent to bother you at work. I need help, and you’re my therapist,” I tell Ivy. She’s momentarily stunned, but then she exhales. Her delicate fingers grab her white notepad and pen. She makes her way over to where I sit.
“This is inappropriate, and I will file a complaint,” she announces. “I understand your rank, but you can’t do this to me.”
“Mr. Winters,” I add.
“Fuck. Off,” she blurts out, surprising herself. She covers her mouth with the hands that so expertly wrapped around my cock on my birthday. I let her have her moment of shock. She doesn’t move to apologize to me for her rude remark, and I won’t ask for an apology either. She’s been a good little doe, and I’m in the wrong here.
The door to her office opens, and her neighbor bursts into the room. He seems out of breath, and his usually perfect hair is a mess. “Is everything okay here?”
If he wasn’t Ivy’s friend and fucking half of Katantia, I would’ve had him deported already. I don’t like his background. He’s a sketchy motherfucker, and I can’t have his drama in my country. Still, he’s a national hero.
And Katantians love their heroes.
“Yes, Ms. Lin. Is everything okay?” I ask. I would adjust my beanie, but I opted out of wearing one today. She needs to see that I’m making small steps of progress, although I have no idea what mess I’m in.
“No, it’s not,” Ivy says, and I feel pain in my chest.
