Monday, morning

     Frey felt a bit numb while he silently stared out of the car window. His father was driving and had tried to talk to Frey a couple of times, but the boy hadn't replied. He was too consumed by his thoughts after they left the psychiatrist that morning.

He had spoken to a psychologist for over an hour, had to wait about 15 minutes before he was called back in, only to be told he showed very clear signs of a bipolar disorder.

In Frey's case, it was a type 2, rapid cycling, and he just zoned out of the conversation right after they told him that. His father had asked questions, and they had suggested medication, but Frey had asked if he could get some time to let it all sink in and get used to the idea.

He was told to call if he was ready, and in the mean time they would sign him up for therapy since that could take a few weeks before there was an opening in the very busy department that handled disorders like his.

Frey had agreed, not really listening anyway.

He had always suspected something was off, he just hoped he was wrong, and his mother was indeed right.

That it was puberty and it would pass eventually.

It wasn't going to pass; Frey understood that much.

But medication would be ably to stabilize his mental health once he would start taking those. It would only cost a couple of months before those meds would reach the acquired level of support.

Just a few more months, Frey thought to himself. A few more months of feeling depressed or overly hyperactive.

Only a few more months and he would be able to feel normal again.

They were on their way to his mother's home, to inform her of the diagnose, and hopefully get her to realise Frey's behaviour could partially be explained by the disorder.

Not all of his behaviour could be sugar-coated by it, but still some of it was explainable now—like his need to sleep a lot in some periods in his life.

Frey was nervous about the talk with his mother, since she hadn't been too pleased over the phone when his father had told her Frey had gotten a diagnose.

She was probably still going to deny the fact something about Frey was different, and Frey knew he would get angry at her once she did.

"Frey?" His father woke him up from his train of thoughts by touching his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"No, but can we not talk about it right now?" He turned to face his father, noticing they stopped in the driveway of the house he fled not too long ago. "I just want to inform mom, and then leave and let it all sink in." Frey muttered, not feeling the need to talk about it right now. "In silence." He added eventually, because he knew both his father and mother didn't like him silently ignoring things as if they didn't exist.

Frey knew no matter what he did, it wouldn't just go away. Even ignoring it wouldn't solve the problem. He knew he needed help, he just didn't want to talk about it before he really understood everything himself.

His dad nodded as an answer, before they both got out of the car.

Frey's mother had already opened the front door to let them in, but she hadn't waited to greet them like she would usually do. She had left the door ajar and went back inside.

Frey rolled his eyes at her ability to once again make things about her. She was visibly trying to get them to talk about whyshe was upset.

He wasn't going to fall for that, and he wasn't going to let his father start about it either.

So, as soon as he found her seated in the kitchen, he dropped the bomb, not willing to give her even a second to start whining that they went behind her back, or that he had ignored her calls and texts ever since he left her house to live with his father.

"I'm bipolar. It's type 2 so don't even start about the horror stories. It's not puberty." He added the last part just to poke her anger a bit more.

His mother stared at him with an empty glare, sipping from her coffee, visibly annoyed and angry.

"He will get medication to help him stabilize..."

"For crying out loud, Frey." His mother cut off his father, staring at him in disbelief. "Why did you not listen to me?"

"Because I needed help!" Frey cried out in frustration. "I can't take this anymore, okay?"

"And you think getting labelled as mentally ill is getting you the help you need? People will judge you for it. They will think less of you..."

"Not everyone has to know." His father stepped in, his voice holding a bit of anger. "He's just like anyone else, he just has a disorder with a name, and with that, a treatment."

"Oh please, they'll drug him up and nobody will take him seriously anymore." Mrs. Sanders shook her head and sighed. "I never wanted you to be labelled as different, or sick."

"I'm not sick."

"It's a mental illness."

"That doesn't make me sick. It's a disorder. And it's treatable, if I accept that I'm simply not normal." Frey shrugged. "And I really don't want to talk about this right now anyway. I just wanted you to know." And with that, Frey left the kitchen again. He had told her enough for now, and he wouldn't talk about it with her until she was willing to listen and possibly even help and support him.

Knowing his mother, Frey knew that could take a while.

     Frey had left his mother's home alone, since his father did feel like talking about it with his mother more.

Frey disagreed.

Frey did not want to hear his mother whine and complain more. He didn't need her to turn things around and make it about her once again.

Besides, what was there to talk about?

He hadn't exactly processed things yet, so he had nothing to say.

Besides, his mother would still deny anything was wrong with him and he didn't need that. He couldn't handle it any more. He needed someone to tell him he wasn't being whiny, or that it was puberty. He needed someone that would hug him and tell him it didn't matter. That everything would turn out alright.

So, instead of going home and think about it—or worry about it—he had gone to Jenna's school and picked her up.

He was almost completely sure she would be able to think about it logically and calm him down.

But as soon as she saw him, and smiled, and greeted him, he didn't feel like sharing things with her. He just wanted her to keep smiling and be happy and enjoy her time with him.

So, he took her to the coastal city nearby and took her for a late lunch—or more an early dinner.

They had fun and talked about sweet little nothings. But something was off, and Frey didn't know exactly what it was.

Jenna was less outgoing than she was before, and every now and then, he felt like she was forcing smiles or laughter.

But them grabbing a little bite and just talking took his mind of the mess inside his mind, and that was most important to him in that moment. And he badly wanted to share things with her, but every time he tried to tell her what was going on with him, he simply couldn't.

He eventually excused himself to go to the bathroom, and when he came back, Jenna wasn't seated at their table anymore, and he freaked out a little.

He quickly payed the bill by leaving money—since the waitress wasn't in sight—and rushed outside to catch up with her before she got to her bike.

But he didn't need to rush.

Jenna was about 20 meters away from the dinner, held by a guy Frey had never seen before.

He was confused at first, but when he caught up, he saw Jenna crying, and he caught onto the fack the guy was both hurting her, and trying to forbid her from going back to Frey.

Who was he?

Frey hurried forwards, and pushed the guy by surprise, causing him to stumble and let go of Jenna's arm.

"Frey..." Jenna sounded as if she tried to warn him, but he couldn't care less about it. He simply stood in between Jenna and the guy and stared him up and down.

So, what if he was larger than Frey?

He had previously fought guys that were bigger. He was capable of fighting, if needed.

"Get lost." Frey simply spat at him, feeling Jenna grab onto his arm.

"You better get lost yourself, kid." The guy stepped forwards, until his chest hit Frey, and he could look down upon Frey angrily. "She's mine."

"Really? I never saw a name tag on her, to be honest." Frey looked up, showing the guy that he wasn't impressed.

"Funny guy, are we?" The guy grumbled, pushing him with his chest. Frey did not give way, standing his ground. "I'll get you, just mark my words. She belongs with me."

Though he didn't really want to fight, Frey acted bold, laughing out a little, shaking his head. He grabbed Jenna's hand without looking away. "You're delirious, dude." He laughed again, and then stepped away, pulling Jenna with him.

"You know you belong with me, Jenna!" The guy snapped but did nothing to stop them from leaving.

Frey noticed some people were watching them and figured the guy simply didn't fight him because they were watching. He was glad they did, since he didn't think he would actually win from the guy. But he knew showing weakness was even worse than bluffing.

"Jenna?" Frey asked her, while they both kept speed-walking towards their bikes. "Who was he?"

"He ehm..." Jenna was whispering, and he could still hear the fear in her voice. "He's my ex... it's kind of a long story..."

"I've got time. What happened?"

"I don't... I..." Jenna pulled him to a stop. "I really rather not talk about it."

"Well, I think I just created my own arch enemy, so I guess I deserve to know why I'm going to get my ass beaten up." Frey crossed his arms. "He's your ex? Or is he still your boyfriend? He seemed to believe you were with him."

"Frey..." Jenna sighed deeply and in defeat. "He is my ex, really. I broke up after he beat me up because I refused to sleep with him." She spoke fast, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "He still stalks me because I never officially broke up. But... Frey... he hurt me, physically and mentally and he's... crazy."

"Call the cops." Frey was already grabbing his phone, but she stopped him halfway in his movement.

"They know, they just don't do anything unless he hurts me physically again."

"Like causing a bruise on your arm?" Frey grabbed her arm and pulled it towards him. "Like this?"

"It's... nothing..." Jenna whispered. "Please... Frey, just leave it be. He usually doesn't bother me. He was just pissed because I was with you again. I'll tell my dad and Sam and they'll make sure he won't do it again. The cops don't really do anything about it anyway and it'll just piss him off further if I do call them."

Frey took in a breath, letting her words sink in. He had no knowledge of the guy, so he really didn't know how to handle this.

All he know was that he bluffed to a guy that could easily beat his ass up, and dating Jenna surely wasn't going to have the guy back off any time soon.

"Just..." Frey took in another deep breath. "Promise me to be careful, and make him stop harassing you."

"I do everything I can, Frey. He just won't listen. He'll back off soon enough. He knows when to take his loss and leave."

"I truly hope you're right, Jenna. Because I really don't want to fight him."

Words +/-1995

>>> Seriously, vote & comment guys. <<<

I'm not joking.

>>> I JUST REACHED 50K WORDS in 17 days for y'all it deserves votes and comments. <<<

(And it would make the author of this book (me) feel very loved and appreciated)