ASYLUM [5SOS]

MATCHES

[A/N: Asylum fanart by hxmmingspls on twitter]

MATCHES

Michael

They'd left a match on his table.

His hand lurched across the table and snatched the match. He ran his fingers over it with relish.

It had been too long.

"Couldn't resist it for even a moment, could you?"

Michael started at the voice, nearly dropping the match in surprise. "When the hell did you get in here?" he asked, looking at the man in the corner warily.

The doctor came and sat down at the table. "I needed your reaction."

Michael frowned. "I could have lit a fire by now."

"But you haven't."

Michael shrugged. "Fair enough."

"I'm Dr. Brooke. I'm going to be your psychiatrist."

"Psychiatrist sounds like a cyclist," Michael commented.

"A psychiatrist is a-"

"I know what a damn psychiatrist is, I was just pointing that out," he snapped, dropping into the chair across from him and kicking his feet up onto the table, satisfied when Dr. Brooke frowned.

"I'm here to help you-"

"You're not the first one who's tried, Dr. River," Michael said sardonically, chewing at the opposite end of the match.

"It's Dr. Brooke, actually."

"Did I ask you? Does it even matter? It's not like there's anyone else here I'm talking to," he said, rolling his eyes.

Dr. Brooke took a deep breath. "Michael, we know you've been to asylums before."

Michael feigned shock. "No fucking way. They kept track of that? I thought I burned those files. Ha, I would have loved to see those stupid papers burn," he said. "So what, if I've been in asylums before?"

"It wasn't an effective stay," Dr. Brooke said.

"No shit, Sherlock."

Dr. Brooke gave him a disparaging look.

Michael clapped a hand over his mouth, pretending to act sheepish. "Oops, I mean, no shit, Dr. Stream."

The psychiatrist took a few moments to calm himself down. "I want to make this your last asylum visit."

"So do I," Michael said, aimlessly tracing designs on the table top with the match.

"I'll need your cooperation for that."

Michael looked up at the Dr. Brooke. "Listen, Dr. Cascade, I don't do the whole cooperation thing. Besides, I'm not just fixable. They've tried. Nothing works. Not on me."

"You haven't worked with me yet," Dr. Brooke said.

Michael snorted. "We've just begun, and look at how well it's going. I'm just so jazzed and ready to open myself up to you and have you understand what exactly is screwed up with me. Isn't this exciting?"

Dr. Brooke sighed. "You deliberately set Luke Hemming's household on fire. Yes?"

"Yeah, but the idiot wasn't even home. He was out chasing sparkly things," Michael scoffed.

"Deliberately, why?"

Michael paused. "You know, there's a reason why I fucking hate this place," he said slowly, looking down at the table and avoiding Dr. Brooke's eyes. "Hell, I'm not even scared of it anymore. I just want to get out of here." He let the match fall to the table. It hit the metal with a soft plink.

Dr. Brooke's voice was imploring. "Cooperate with me, please."

"I'm done trying to talk to you. You just want to be the one who fixes the pyromaniac who likes to burn himself over and over again. I've been in asylums before, genius. I'm not new to this whole system," Michael said scathingly.

Dr. Brooke picked up the match and rose from his seat. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"It'll be around then I start lamenting the fact that I can't lock you out," Michael shot back.

The doctor sighed and turned, walking out of the room.

Michael slumped in his chair.

He'd been sent the first asylum when he burned 57 backpacks in the ninth grade.

He'd been sent to the second asylum when he set the park on fire during a city festival.

And here he was again.

All because Luke Hemmings had taken his girl.