The Sullivan Project (M)

[starpollen]

Same.  He’s adorable/sexy/perfect. Very jealous, here, Rin! 

[Skylacticon]

Ahh!  Thanks guys. Glad you're enjoying so far. (Of course, let me know what you wanna see, if you have any ideas. Still working on something right now, but I'm open to suggestions!)

[starpollen]

Personally I love his allergies, and my favorite parts are when he’s training.  (I like things not so life-or-death serious, more lighthearted and even funny...)  

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

1 hour ago, starpollen said:

 (I like things not so life-or-death serious, more lighthearted and even funny...)  

ARE YOU SURE?????? 

[HideAndGoSneeze]

I absolutely adore this story... And for things I like... Those torturous buildups and hitching breaths are amazing... GAH. Nope. I'm totally not blushing. 

[Elyze]

I love the Mason POV allergy attacks, in training, testing of in everyday situations with Rin. I think my fav so far is the test with the cat. I love reading how and where he experiences the torturous tickles and other symptoms, and of course the inevitable fail at suppressing the reaction. 

[starpollen]

8 hours ago, Quing Nerd said:

ARE YOU SURE?????? 

Yes, I’m sure. When things get too intense I am distracted from the indulgent pleasure of Mason’s allergic reactions.  And I like those the best.  Definitely. 

Then again, I am just 1 person’s opinion!... 

Edited December 3, 2017 by starpollen

[Skylacticon]

Part fifteen:

(Bit of another flashback here, during the time when Rin and Mason were still getting to know each other~)

 

Capture the Flag

-----

 

 

 "Hhuuh-huh-hhih! *sddrf* unhh! *sdff!**sddf* ighhh...." I sniffle and snuffle wetly, swiping allergic tears away with the back of my wrist. However, they won't stop streaming. I continue to make my rounds, battling the urge to sneeze. Ugh, my nose is so runny... I sniffle harshly. "Hih," I need to sneeze now. 

 'Oh, won't that be a splendid idea? Put miserable little Johns on guard of the flag. That sounds like a master plan.'

 "Ahh..." Ohh, my god it tickles. I just need to sneeze. The more I sniffle, the more I'm inhaling the pollen, dust and god-knows-what's been living here.... "Hhehhh..." I can't take it.

 At the last minute, I bend over, resting my hands on my knees. "ieeEESSSCHHHHU!!- huh-" a pain bursts in my temple, and I nearly cry out. "*snnff!!snnrff!!*" I exhale through my mouth, and suppress a groan. I desperately wish for tissues, a handkerchief, anything to wipe my nose with. I snuffle ineffectively, blinking my watery eyes. I feel as plugged as a storm drain. My nose is still burning unforgivably, making my breath take off on it's own again. "Huhh.... Huhh..." 

 "MASON JAR!" I near jump out of my skin.

 As I'm fumbling for my switchblade, two arms wrap around my shoulders. Not like that caused me any less panic.

 "Chill. It's me, Rin."

 Oh.

 I sigh, turning around. There, standing in front of me in the middle of the trail stood Rin Misaki, with her famous bright blonde hair in a tight bun. I open my mouth quickly to scold her for sneaking up on me, but the way she's smiling makes me hesitate.

 "Don't do that." I run a hand through my messy hair, feeling self-conscious.

 "Sorry." She says, looking apologetic. "You're our one defender. Couldn't hurt to mess with him a little."

 "That... doehh-hhuhsd't b-bake ady-hhuh- HiyY'IESSCHHHhh!! *sdddrf* ughh..." I turn away slightly, mortified by the amount of mucus I'm struggling to keep back - all the while, trying not to succumb to an entire fit of sneezes. "*ssddf* hhuhh... *sddgk*"

 I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Hey."

 I open one eye. Oh God, it's a handkerchief. I quickly take it and snap forward with a- "HIESSHh!-" - and a - "RRRSCHhh!-" followed by - "hyieH'TSSCHHMM!!-nghh..."

 "Bless you."

RINS POV

 The poor thing. I watch in sympathy as he blows his nose, and dabs carefully at his pink, watery eyes. For a moment, I genuinely feel bad for scaring him. He sniffles harshly and turns to me. When he speaks, his voice is dampened by congestion.

 "Shouldn't you be od the frodt lide?" He grumbles.

 I tilt my head. "I think they have it covered." Mason raises an eyebrow.

 "Well," I say. "Thought you might need a hand."

 "Yeah? *sddf*" he rubs his nose hard, sniffling constantly. "That's good, hih-because- Hah'TSCHh!! *sddf* ugh. *sdf* 'Cuz I'b obviously dot up for the job right dow."

 "No! I'm not saying- well-" I stammer off, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

 "It's a tactic, setting up lower-levelled agents on offense."

 "Yes. Although logically, we do need a good line of defence too. Hence why you're here."

 Mason laughs. He coughs over the congestion, and opts to blow his nose again.

 "Then thank god you came." I give him a sympathetic smile. "No really, hh-" his eyelids flutter, and he places a finger under his nostrils. "*snnf!* These allergies are driving me insane."

 I crouch down, close to the ground. "Yeah, it must be hell out here. Sorry."

 At least once a week, all qualified agents have scheduled field training without meds. For me, the effect is not too harsh- especially since I'm aware of the activity that's going on. For agents with lower-levelled resistance factors, their problems must be annoying but manageable. But for Mason? A five? Oh boy.

 "Dothig I'b dot used to. *snff!*" 

 "Come on. I think I hear people coming."

 Mason looks around attentively. I keep an open ear for anything - footsteps, voices. I brush a piece of hair behind my ear. In the lush, green forest, the winds pass through, causing the branches to bow. 

 "Hey, Mason, I-"

 "Shh!" When I glance back at him, his index finger is over his lips. He steps closer to me, gazing somewhere off toward a stream. Gently, he rests a hand on my shoulder. 

 "Did you hear something?" Another voice, someone from the other team. My blood runs cold.

 "How many do you see?" I breathe.

 "Three, four, five..." What? Where the fuck is our defence? Quickly, Mason pats my shoulder. "Don't let them see you. Guard the flag."

 "Wait, Ma-" before I can even call his name, he dashes off in the opposite direction of the flag. What happens next, I can barely fathom myself. I hear the voices approaching from up the path and run for cover behind the hill. I duck behind a leafy bush and plan to go around back to the flag. But before I can do anything, I hear a faint sound off in the distance.

 Oh - he didn't.

 "Huh'RRESCHHHIEWW!!"

 "Did you hear that?"

 "It's the five." A boy from the offending team laughs. "Can you believe they let him hide the flag? Too easy." The others chuckle, beginning to head in Mason's direction.

 My fingernails dig into my palms. I could get each of them right about now. That wouldn't do. There's too many of them. I hear Mason sneezing loudly from a distance - twice. Three times. Four times. Jesus, Johns.

MASONS POV

 I let my breath hitch, building up for stronger, louder sneezes. "Hehh, hehhh... H'ihh! AESSSCHHIEWW!! hhH'ISSCHHIEWW!! *sddf*" For a second I'm light-headed, and lean up against a tree. I sniffle wetly several times, blinking my watery eyes. They're practically streaming now. 

 In one hand, I clutch bunch of wildflowers that I'd managed to find on this side of the forest. The moment I'm able to catch my breath, I bring them closer to my face, right beneath my nose- "*gulp* Hiehhh... *snf!* hhehhh! Huhh-hhuhh-" I inhale the sickly sweet smell of the pollen. Immediately, my nose begins to itch madly, as if a thousand feathers are dancing in my sinuses. "huhh *snnff!* *snnrff* iehhhh... *snnff* hahh..." I'm trying to hold it back for a greater effect, but I'm losing it. My nose is running badly, causing me to sniffle more. Until I can't hold back any longer. "Ghh-*sddf!* hihh! Hieh! Heh'IESSCHHHIEWW!!-unhh, *sdf!sdf!* HAESSCHHH!! Huh! Ha'ISCHh!!-ISXCHh!! ISSHHU!!"

 "There he is!" I hear the voices shouting, as they come nearer. "We found you, five!"

 My fingers uncurl, letting the flowers fall on the ground. I bring Rin's handkerchief to my nose and give it a good blow. As the group of agents from the offending team come closer and closer, all I can do is smile.

 "Now," I say clearly, grinning.

 As quick as a flash, out from behind the trees come Harper, Darcy, Quinn, and three other agents from our team. In a flurry of dart gun shots, it seems that we've taken six of our rival team's players hostage. Soon after, we practically have this in the bag. The others set out to cross our territory line and find the opposing team's flag, while I sit and wait and recover on our side.

 "Nice work, taking one for the team." Rin congratulates me, sitting next to me on the ground.

 I can barely chuckle, rubbing my nose for the hundredth time. "I- hep'TSCHIEWW!! *sdf* thought I bight bake sobethig of it. *sddf, sdf*"

 Rin sighs and shakes her head. I wipe my nose with the handkerchief, by now way too stuffed up to blow my nose. I must be a sight right now - red, puffy eyes streaming with tears; and my nose, glowing a deep shade of scarlet. Not too different compared to how the others see me. I sniffle, or try to sniffle, rubbing hard at my nose with the heel of my palm. I've resorted to breathing through my mouth, alternating between hitches as my nose is still being tormented by the vast amounts of pollen I'd managed to inhale.

 "HURRSCHHIEWW!! *snngk!* unhhh..." 

 "Bless you."

 "Huhh- Uhp'TSCHHIEWW-TCHIEWW-ITCHIU-ISCHHhee!!!" I groan and wipe my streaming eyes.

 "God bless you."

 "Thagks, I'll deed it." I mutter, breathless. Rin looks over sympathetically and throws her arm around my shoulders. As I wait and wait for the rest of the team to return, it's becoming clearer and clearer to me by the second.

 That yes, I may be dealing with level five allergies. But hell, that doesn't mean I'm useless.
-----

<3 Until next time...

[Elyze]

Awww Mason  Sniffing wildflowers and increasing the severity of your reaction for the sake of your team. You're a good man and certainly not useless. Fantastic chapter! 

[starpollen]

*swoons*  This is lovely!    

[Coffee Mug]

Oh jeez  I can’t even... gah. This is WONDERFUL 

[AngelEyes]

Latecomer to the show, but I love this last chapter, as well as the whole story.

[Skylacticon]

*emerges from under rock* Hey guys, its been forever since I’ve updated! I’ve been a bit busy over the holidays, but I’ve been meaning to post here for a while. Happy new year! Two months late. 😖

 

Anyway, since I’ve been so dead and unable to come up with ideas, I decided to revisit the event of Rin and Mason’s first encounter, and this was born. I’ll definite try and upload more, but we’ll see. Hope you like.

 

Part sixteen:

 

SUP101

——-

 

 There’s something I’ve always known of course, but never had the guts to admit straight up: Mason is a legend for the way he tries.  The day I met him - let’s just say bumped into him, I kind of already knew who he was. 

 

 ‘Hey, it’s the five. Watch out, he’s gonna blow!’ 

 

 I can also say that day, was also the first time in weeks I’d been able to speak to someone so... naturally. Even despite his flaws. I mean, hey - what’re we all here for? You can’t exactly blame anyone who checks themselves into the Sullivan Project for having their issues, because that’s just how it is here.

 

 I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting at the end of a row of desks in class, trying not to be noticed, trying not to be too self-absorbed. The professor was a middle-aged woman with a thin face, and curly black hair.

 

 “Quinn?” “Here.” “Misaki?”

 

 “Here.”

 

 “Excellent. Johns?”

 

 The chair at the desk to my left scrapes loudly, and there’s a jingle of a knapsack zipper. “Here, mbiss.” I hear him attempt to clear his throat, his voice laced with a hint of congestion. A large, male frame with a messy blonde undercut sits down in my peripheral vision.

 

 Allergies was his resistance factor. Level five, the poor guy. I’d hardly seen an agent go past a three in this place. Gee, if level three anxiety disorder is high, level five allergies must really be something.

 

 “You’re late.”

 

 “Sorry, mbiss.” He sniffs quietly and scoots forward in his chair. 

 

 “That’s a strike. Two more and it’s detention.” The teacher says sternly.

 

 “Yes, mbiss.” He clears his throat again, noticeably trying to sound quieter.

 

 I glance down at the stack of papers on my desk, printed with black letters: SUP101. The package of the crisp, clean sheets of paper is quite thick. All the ways I’ll need to know how to lie. To cheat. To deny the unwanted fear that gave me a label. A feeling of dread churns in my stomach.

 

 “Alright, class.” The professor walks over to the white board. “Who can tell me the meaning of suppression?”

 

 Hands shoot up. I look on, not wanting to have to speak in front of others. 

 

 “Keith.”

 

 “Suppression is the conscious intentional exclusion of a thought or feeling.”

 

 “Right. Now I’m pretty sure each one of you has had experience suppressing something. Hm? Whether it be a thought, a memory, or an action. Can someone give me an example?” The hands shoot up again. The professor gives a small “hm,” as her eyes scan the desks. They fall upon me, with my arms folded upon mine. “Misaki, can you give us an example?”

 

 Shit, I think, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. “Well,” I begin, softly. “One could suppress a desire.”

 

 “Sorry, what was that?”

 

 “A desire,” I say, louder. I press my lips together. I hate the press of the attention. I hate the silence that I’m forced to break. A few seconds seem to pass like hours.

 

 “I don’t understand. How can one have the ability to suppress a desire?” She asks, and I can feel my heart thumping in my chest.

 

 “Well...” Don’t ask me, for the love of god. It’s simple! “Y-you...” Come on, Rin. You know the answer. Just say it. I can’t. I look down, starting to feel my knees shake.

 

 “A desire is usually involuntary,” a deep voice says clearly, “Although it may seem difficult, one could hold a desire yet count the reasons against it.” I look up. Johns blinks, clears his throat, and continues: “Therefore, one might feel like punching someone in the face, but consider it an unreasonable move the second after.” Hm. Nice example.

 

 “Ah, of course. Very nice, Rin; thank you Mr. Johns. Now to tackle these thoughts that may or may not be something we can control, per say...”

 

 Johns sniffles once, quickly. Out of the corner of my eye I, peek at him. There’s a mixture of thoughts going through my head: one being relief, I hate being the centre of attention. Two, he answered for me. This smart-looking, smart-sounding guy; who’s obviously preoccupied - at that moment, he reaches up to rub his nose with his index finger. His posture is straight and his eyes are rapt with attention to the front of the room. I slowly exhale and rest one elbow on my desk. Could he recognize the tension I was feeling? Maybe he knows what it’s like to have all eyes on him when he least wants it. I divert my gaze. Or, perhaps, maybe he just wanted the attention.

 

 Instead of listening, I sit and stare out the window, at the small slice of the bright blue sky it is generous enough to show. I imagine happy couples, perhaps accompanied by a dog, sitting down for a picnic in this great weather. I remember the forest behind our old house, the one Bella and I used to go to to play hide-and-seek. As I grew up, I’d grown to confide in the rustle of the breeze between the leafy branches of the towering trees, the patches of delicate flowers that formed during the spring. What I certainly wouldn’t forget was the scent, a fresh, sweet-smelling mixture of the soil, the sap amidst the trees, and the giddy scent of the blooming wildflowers.

 

 Beside me, Johns sniffles. They’re becoming frequent now. The polite, stiff, silence of the room is peppered with tiny sounds like that - chairs scuffing, throats being cleared, and on top of that, the teacher’s loud voice. “Snfff! *ahem*...” And hurray for sensory overload.

 

 It’s as if my gaze had naturally drifted to my left in that moment, whether it was the sudden pause the teacher had made, or a strange sound coming from that direction.

 

 “hiH’NxXKTChh!! *snff, snf*” A smothered, near-painful sounding stifled sneeze, rounded off with a few more sniffles.

 

 I can hear the low hum of a couple of guys in the back snickering and talking. Johns only hastily rubs his nose, and straightens his posture once again. He tops off his recovery with a sniffle.

 

 “Bless you, Mr. Johns.”

 

 His cheeks go an involuntary rosy red, and he nods. He sniffles. I turn to peek at him again, noticing how his nose had turned redder than before and his eyes are teary behind his wire-framed glasses. He pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger, then moves to rub his index finger under his nostrils for a quick second. I finally tear my gaze away. I take a quiet, but deep breath, and decide to stop slouching as well.

 

 “Now,” the teacher says, “Can I get a few examples of the signs you can pick up that might give away when someone’s lying?” 

 

 Hands are in the air.

 

 “Quinn?”

 

 “Fidgeting?” Oof. I’d done that quite a lot.

 

 “Yes, fidgeting. Johns?”

 

 “Not k-keeping eye- hah-hih’TNxXNGtchh!! *ahem*” he coughs, noticeably breathless. “Oh gosh. Excuse be, I’b sorry.” He sniffles quickly a few times, raising a fist to his mouth and nose.

 

 “Bless you, Mr. Johns.” The teacher pauses, then politely offers: “Are you alright?”

 

 “*ahem* Yes. Thank you.” He clears his throat, sniffling softly. His cheeks are turning a deeper shade of red. “As I was saying,” I note the congestion in his voice, and naturally feel bad for him. “Ndot keeping eye contact could be a sign that sobeode is lying. *snff!*”

 

 I hear him quietly clearing his throat, with the occasional sniffle here and there. I sigh inwardly. I’m no germophobic, and I’m definitely not scared of getting sick on my first day, no - actually back then I would’ve rather died in order to get out of class interaction - it was the next painful few minutes of anticlimactic breathing, sniffling, hushed snickering, and of course, Johns had had to pick the seat right next to mine. But in a place like this, I really can’t blame him for his quirks. After all, he had answered a question for me...

 

 “*snf!* uhh...” he sighs, almost impossible to hear if you weren’t close. I begin to notice frustration peeking through the cracks of his outer layer of peak professionalism, politeness, and good hair. He moves his glasses to dab at his eyes with the hem of his sleeve. They’re slightly narrowed. My eyes naturally drift down to his nose, which at this point is tinged a deep scarlet, looking quite irritated. He keeps a closed fist in front of the tip of his nose and lips, struggling to remain focused. “-Hh! Hihh- *snf*”

 

 “It’s a bit warm in here.” The teacher glances around, then walks over to the window near the blackboard.

 

 There’s a split second of panic in Johns’ ocean-like blue eyes, which seem itchy by the look of it. With some effort, the window squeaks but easily slides open. “Umb, mbiss...” Oh no.

 

 Can she possibly not know? Is she new here? I can’t help but make blunt comments in my head as I strain to follow the next stream of words the teacher is saying, versus the suddenly worsened sniffling coming from my distant left.

 

 “Hnhh... hp- hih-! Huh’NxXCK-GnxTSCHh!-euh...” Yikes. I can’t help but feel bad, and I want to say something, I really do... “*snf* hihh...” A blue handkerchief has appeared in his right hand, which he presses to his face to muffle an intense fit of silent sneezes. “Huh’Rrschh!”

 

 He sniffles thickly, once, twice, then clears his throat again. He raises his hand. “Excuse be, bay I be excused?” He asks politely, but urgently.

 

 The teacher nods. “Of course.”

 

 I don’t know why, but I’m disappointed and intrigued as Johns’ lanky frame clumsily heads toward the door. I inwardly sigh and brush off the feeling, then suddenly rush to open up my package when I realize everyone else has. Darn it. I need to keep my focus, or how else will I make it out of here? I scan the page from top to bottom. The words seem to go out of focus when I try to make sense of them. After some time, I realize that I’ve been trying to read the same paragraph for five minutes. 

 

 I really don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be taught how to lie, I don’t want to sit through this class. I wonder how how the other agents know how to cope already, if their resistance factors are any less stressful and then I’m scolding myself for being selfish. Then I remember something Bella said to me, and I raise my hand.

 

 Alright. “Excuse me, miss?” The teacher glances up at me. “May I be excused?” I make sure that I’m speaking clearly, as I have a tendency to have to repeat whatever it is I’m saying because I’m so quiet.

 

 “Yes, Misaki.” No questions. No need for repetition. Golden.

 

 Quietly, I exit the room. I look down at my black uniform and combat boots as I walk down the metallic hallway. I like the colour of the uniform, as it represents how I feel most of the time.

 

 Huh. Edgy.

 

 I always wondered why prisons in America (or anywhere, for that matter) would decide on certain colours for the inmates to wear. Certainly for a reason, I thought. My theory was the idea that bright colours like orange were not necessarily provoking when you stared at them all day and neutral patterns like black and white did not have to mean anything. The Sullivan Project was all about facing your problems so that your overall tolerance of them was not as bad. Or in other words, positive even. So why not instead of black, a bright yellow for a uniform pitch? Maybe, perhaps, black was a colour that represented strength-

 

 I suddenly smack into something hard as I approach the turn in the hallway, and— “Hey!” I exclaim, then realized he’d fallen over too.

 

 “Ow!” I hear him yell. Immediately after, he sneezes loudly. 

 

 I get up, a little bit shaken, but okay. “Gee, you better watch where you’re going-“ I start to say, and then catch a glimpse of his face as I’m speaking. It’s... It’s Johns. Except now, instead of the neat, professional look he’d been holding onto in the classroom, his hair is a mess, his eyes red and watery, and his clothes rumpled. His demeanour is obviously more flustered than just a few moments ago. “Hey,” I say, more cautiously. “Are you okay?”

 

 He only sniffles, then checks his glasses to see if they’d been damaged. I notice that his head must have been hurting, as he winces and gets up slowly.

 

 A mixture of pride and social anxiety is rising inside of me - a strange mixture. Quickly, I decide to swallow whatever it is and hold out my hand. “Rin. Agent 115.”

 

 He replaces his glasses and clears his throat. I then have a feeling why he hasn’t said anything yet. When he speaks, his voice is worryingly raspy and laden with congestion, sounding much deeper. “Basod. Ageh-hh!” His nose twitches uncontrollably, his eyelashes flutter. I notice the need to sneeze had grown too much in the span of those seconds and he pivots away from me to sneeze three times, rapidly. ‘Poor guy’, I think. “ISSCHHH!! ISSCHHHU!! GSCHHH!!” They sound different compared to his stifles in class. They’re much louder and more desperate, like they’re tearing from his throat. 

 

 Mason, the name repeats in my head. 

 

 Unsure what to say or do, I watch with concern as he recovers, sniffling wetly. His dirty blond hair flops over his forehead. Then he looks up, meeting my gaze for a second. “I-I’b sorry,” he stutters out weakly, constantly sniffling. “I should go.” He manages to say, then rushes past me.

 

 I turn quickly, and call after him. “Hey, wait!” I dig in my pockets and fish out something useful and hold it out to him, in the hopes that it might help in some way.

 

 Travel tissues. I usually keep them on me, in case something might happen. In this case, I suppose I’d made the right decision.

 

 He glances at me for a second. His cheeks are now the colour of beets. He takes it from my hand. A flicker of relief plays on his reddened features, making me feel slightly comforted. He gives a small nod.

 

 “Thanks.”

 

 With that, he turns and hurries off back in the opposite direction.

 

I stand there for a moment, watching him head past the door to the classroom and through the heavy double doors at the end of the hallway. I sigh, turning back around. I then think to myself, that whatever bad feeling I’d been dreading being here, whatever intrusive thought or bout of panic started off by pure nervousness - couldn’t be as bad as what Johns had been facing. Or - what Mason had been facing.

 

 I decided that I didn’t want to compare tragedies. 

 

 The next day, I’m off to my usual routine. I’m deep in the woody, leather-bound confines of the library, buried in a book about psychology. I’d also painstakingly brought along my work from class, in the mere hopes I’d get anything finished.

 

 I quietly breathe in the scent of the old pages and out again, waiting eight seconds like Bella taught me. I like libraries. I liked going to them because they were usually quiet, spare for this one talkative group of agents that always met here on Thursdays to “study” and talk about sports, or the occasional ‘beep’ of the scanner. But most of all, I wasn’t obliged to talk to anyone. In the library, I’m allowed to sit and read by myself, whilst enjoying the overall silence...

 

 “Hht!-NxnkKt!-uhh...” Or so I thought. Mason notices that I jumped, and chuckles nervously. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

 

 I just smile back, embarrassed, secretly liking the sound of his deep voice being lowered. He comes over and places his books on the table, his backpack on the floor.

 

 “Hi. I’m Mason. Agent 124.” He says, his lips pulled into a wide grin. He’s good-looking. I like the way his glasses frame his face. He runs his hands through his dirty blond hair, then rests his arms on the table.

 

 “I’m Rin.” I say simply.

 

 “I know.” His voice is friendly, and I look down, grinning myself. He sniffles quietly, and quickly rubs his nose. “Thanks for the intervention. Yesterday. I’m... sorry for knocking you over.”

 

 “That’s okay.” I say, then thinking quickly, “Thanks for taking my question.”

 

 Suddenly, he turns away from the table. “Huh’MnxXKt!-uhh...” he stifles forcefully. He sniffles and swipes at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “...Gosh. Sorry, what?” Oh no. I must have mumbled again.

 

 “My question. About desire?”

 

 “Oh yeah. No problem. I was sort of hoping you wouldn’t think I was some sort of know-it-all,” Ha ha, nope... “But yeah. I uh, noticed your wristband was green.”

 

 “Oh.” I say, my eyes shifting nervously.

 

 “Not that I thought you weren’t capable,” he starts talking quickly. “It’s just... *snf* look, I don’t like being the centre of attention either. And when she opened the window, I mean, geez...”

 

 “Can I ask you a question?” His expression changes quickly and he rests both arms on the table.

 

 “Sure. Go ahead.”

 

 “Is it true... that you’re a level five?”

 

 For a second, he doesn’t look at me. He pulls at the hem of one sleeve. “Yeah.”

 

 I exhale through my nose, and glance down at the pages of my book. “That must be tough.”

 

 “No. Well, maybe.” He raises a fist to cough, and folds his arms again. “But you know, there is a difference between controlling suppression for stuff like allergies and anxiety.”

 

 I look up at him.

 

 “That’s true.”

 

 “You’re a level three, correct?”

 

 I scoff at his charismatic tone. “Yes.”

 

 “Well. Wouldn’t you say you were in that hall for a reason, as well?”

 

 I open my mouth, unable to say anything. I hear the scuffing of his chair as he stands up. When I look at him again, his fingers on one hand are combing through his dirty-blond hair; the other gripping onto his books.

 

 “Catch you first period, Misaki.” He pushes the chair back in and winks at me, before leaving just as swiftly as before.

 

 He stops by a distant bookshelf. His head slightly rears back, then he pitches forward with another near-silent stifle. And then he’s gone.

 

 I blink, unable to process what just happened for a moment. And then my cheeks are burning. I hide my face in my hands, then sigh heavily and grip the psychology book in front of me with both hands. And now, even in the calm, silent, sanctuary of the library, I am once again unable to focus.

[AngelEyes]

Yay! I'm excited to see more of this! Super cute!

[Elyze]

I know I've said it before, but Mason is just too cute 

21 hours ago, Skylacticon said:

Mason is a legend for the way he tries.

Awww! He does try so hard.

If you're still looking for ideas for other chapters I'd be interested in finding out more from the beginning. How did Mason decide to join TSP? How did he receive his rank as a level five? That evaluation must have been interesting We've seen Mason in training on his own, have there maybe been group sessions with other agents with the same resistance factor (even though he apparently has it worst)?

[WolfPack]

On 2/6/2018 at 2:59 AM, Skylacticon said:

Mason is a legend for the way he tries

Hands down, someone should give Mason an award for best efforts!

Great new installment! 

[Skylacticon]

8 hours ago, helyzelle said:

If you're still looking for ideas for other chapters I'd be interested in finding out more from the beginning. How did Mason decide to join TSP? How did he receive his rank as a level five? That evaluation must have been interesting We've seen Mason in training on his own, have there maybe been group sessions with other agents with the same resistance factor (even though he apparently has it worst)?

Aw thanks! I’ll definitely take that into consideration. 

[Kitty Kat]

I am absolutely loving this!!! You are a great writer!😀 Is it possible for us to learn more of how Mason and Rin fell in love??? 🙏🙏🙏😏I can't wait to read more and I hope you continue! Keep up the great work 👊

[Skylacticon]

Hey!! So I’ve been reading your comments, and decided to dive more into the past of Mason and Rin and we’ll see how it goes. So for now, here’s part seventeen:

Origins of Johns - pt.1

 

——

 

You never really know what you have until it’s gone. There had been a major series of breakthroughs for me ever since I’d joined the Sullivan Project: I’d gotten to know more people and relate to how they dealt with allergies. I’d also embraced the concept that everyone has something that they can overcome, and that allergies was just a needle in a haystack of issues. But those moments of glory and relief, knowing that there’s something that can control or stop it for you - even though it completely defeats the purpose of training - it was something I’d gotten used to overtime, and now I was hating myself again for it.

 

 “IyYIESCHhh!!... uhh...” I wince, pressing the palm of my hand to my temple. My head pounds like a crack of thunder in a storm, aggravated by the contestant whirring of machinery in the bunker. It sucks, but I still owe Rin one.

 

 “Hh-huhp’TSCHIEWw!! ugh... *snnf*”

 

 As having guard duty on the main entrance is bloody fantastic, so was getting up late this morning and forgetting I hadn’t picked up my prescription last night... I’d been out all day at field training. And so here I am, having rushed from the dormitory, whacked as fuck on the job, already...

 

 “...hiH’RRESCHHhuhh!!”

 

 And I still gotta head down for spot training today. God, I knew I was forgetting something...

 

 I sniffle hard and sigh, folding up my handkerchief. This only reminded me of when I first came here to be trained, and I practically doped on antihistamines just to be able to go anywhere.

 

 “Hah’Nngschh!!”

 

 I cough out a chuckle and sniffle weakly. My nose feels like it’s coiled with barbed wire, so impossibly itchy, that sneezing only somehow seems to be making it worse. My eyes are constantly narrowed due to the irritation. If I tell myself I don’t have to sneeze, maybe it’ll stop... maybe the insides of my sinuses won’t feel like they’re on fire and maybe I won’t have to...

 

 “Ahh... HAESSCHHHIEWW!!” That one sends a pulse of dull pain into my head, and I bow down, clenching my teeth.

 

 Back then I didn’t have the slightest idea that I’d be able to function the way I do now on a day to day basis. Because back then, agynicol wasn’t a thing,-

 

 “-hH’ESCHHIEWW!!”

 

 And suppression was definitely not even something I could think about, in my situation. I mean, unlike today, where the pollen is obviously like most days, not like it makes a difference to my system. I’d just have to wait it out, until my nose was completely inflamed and my eyes were beyond sore from rubbing and ran like no tomorrow.

 

 It was no question I needed to face what was bothering me. Although it’s not the case for most allergy-sufferers, I took it that nothing else was going to help me. After all, I had nothing to lose...

~

 The files from my old placement are like weights in my hands as I give them to the lady at the counter. She looks over them, with a sort of counter-lady expression on her face as she examines them in a nonchalant manner.

 

 “So you’ve been trained up north.”

 

 “Yes.”

 

 “You’ve done this sort of thing before?”

 

 I shift on my feet. “You could say that.”

 

 The lady looks up at me across the glass. Her round glasses brightly deflect the pale ceiling lights, framing a serious gaze that is vague and unreadable.

 

 “And you’re seventeen years old.”

 

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 

 “Right.” She says flatly. “Well Mr. Johns,” She sighs and stamps the top of the file, then slides the papers back under the glass pane. “We’ll see you back this Monday.”

 

 I retrieve the papers and slip them into my bag. “Thank you.”

 

 The air that I step into past the heavy double doors is a bit chilly, and I fold my arms as I walk alone. The sounds of my footsteps echo across the hall, a bit eery but providing a sense of safety. I begin to wonder just how many people are crazy enough to sign themselves up for this, this training... It’s my last resort. I can’t keep on going like this.

 

 “Mason!” The back door to the house slams and it’s hard to keep from flinching, as I hold on tightly to the strap of my bag in my right hand. I step back, unconsciously stepping away from the medicine cabinet. “Where the have you been, young man?” The southern drawl of her words fill the silence of the room, along with the sickly sweet scent of lavender perfume.

 

 I swallow, keeping one hand on the door frame. Shit. I forgot that Nora took watch on Thursdays. I clear my throat, and try to ignore the rapidly growing irritation in my sinuses.

 

 “Relax. I-I was just out for a walk.”

 

 “You expect me to believe that, huh?” The staff parent’s shrill voice is enough to send chills down my spine. “A walk?”

 

 I nod. Oh no. No no, give me a break, this one time-

 

 “Why is the medicine cabinet open?”

 

 “Please, I just needed-“

 

 “You don’t listen.” She grabs my wrist, hard. Then, she leans close to my face and proceeds to explain in a menacing tone: “Medication is given in the morning and at night according to what it says on your record. Not for sneaky little rats like you who need a fix!”

 

 The scent of her perfume is overpowering this close, making my eyes water. It takes everything in me not to just sneeze in her face that very second.  I twist my arm under her grip, but she isn’t letting go. I grit my teeth and stop fighting.

 

 “I’d like to go to my room, please.” I say calmly, directing my eyes toward the ground. The itch in my nose is getting worse. I turn my head to press my nostrils to my sleeve. Please, just let me go now...

 

 “I’d say you have some nerve.” She finally lets go, and I stumble back. I sniffle and look up at Nora. I hate how small I feel next to her, like a mouse is to a cat, and I can’t directly look her in the eyes. “Go. Now. And don’t be late to dinner.”

 

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 

 I turn and run all the way upstairs, into the dim corridor and further to get to my room. I throw open the door and close it behind me, so hard that it slams. I throw my backpack down by my bed. Then without even the time to reach for a handkerchief, I make a grab for the corner of my dresser. 

 

 “Mason-?” I see my roommate, Richard out of the corner of my eye, and hold up one finger.

 

 “Hihh-HEHh!” I feel ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room, squinting up at the light just to... Oh, come on... “HIESSCHHIEWW!! ESSCHH!! Hih! Haahh-“ I pat the pocket of my jeans, and finally bring out the white square of fabric. “Huh’ISCHHIEWW!! Uhh!-Hah’ISSCHHIEWW!! Unh...” I moan, and wipe my nose gingerly. I dab at my eyes, which itch now ever-so-slightly from being outside. I walk over and sit at the foot of my bed. 

 

 “How’d it go?”

 

 “I’b... scehh...ESSCHHIU!! sceduled for bModay. They still hahhhve to... evaluate be- hiH’JZCHHhhu!! Mby god...”

 

 “Bless you.”

 

 “Thanks.” I briefly blow my nose and lie back on my bed. I rub hard at my nose, at the itch that never seems to go away.

 

 “Are you sure you want to be doing this?” He says after a while.

 

 “Hmm?” I turn to look at him, sat on the side of his bed.

 

 “This organization... you should really know what you’re getting yourself into, mate. Because once you run away...”

 

 I sigh and sit upright, burying my face in my hands. My eyes are still sore and itch so persistently that I want to claw them out. The space between my eyes still burns and itches relentlessly. Of course I’m sure I want to do this... I’m sure. Right?

 

 “Think of what I could do.” I say, swinging my feet over the side of my bed to face him. “Think of, think of how I could do more than just growing out of my allergies. It’s sure as hell going to be more than anything I do around here.” 

 

 I stand up and walk to the tall mirror standing between our beds. My old, tattered clothes are all I have. I have a life studying at school, and that’s going to end soon. But I think back to what the doctor said, however hopeless he thought my case could be, that there was still something I could do if I was willing. 

 

 “Aren’t you worried they’ll catch you?” Richard says, looking concerned.

 

 “They won’t catch me.”

 

 “Oh yeah? And then what?”

 

 “And then I’ll be recruited.”

 

 Sounds a lot more simple than I thought. But when I revisited the SP base on Monday, I came to realize there was a lot more to the process than I imagined.

 

 I walk into an empty room that’s entirely white, with a metal bench in the middle and a tv at the front. Suddenly, the tv turns on and a middle-aged woman, blonde and wearing a grey blazer appears on the screen.

 

 “Welcome, Mason Johns.”

 

 “H.. Hello.” I bury my hands in my pockets. I feel self-conscious in the open space, not to mention I was going to be evaluated, whatever that meant. I was a bit nervous, to say the least.

 

 “I am Rolanda, but most people here call me the boss.” I bite back a smirk. “I am the owner of the Sullivan Project.”

 

 “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

 “And to you, as well. Why don’t you have a seat on the bench?”

 

 I awkwardly turn to look at the steel bench in the middle of the room, then walk over and sit down.

 

 “At the Sullivan Project, we evaluate agents on what we call certain levels.” Whoa. Agents? “These are based on the severity of your case, which are called resistance factors.”

 

 “So... mine would be allergies.”

 

 “Correct.” Her tone is very unwavering and sure-sounding, almost like a computer voice. “Today we will determine the severity of your allergic reactions.”

 

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa wait,” I say. “Right now? Here?”

 

 “That’s right. What we will do is expose you to the allergens you’ve listed - for example, cat fur. Then, after a break, move onto the next allergen. For each one, we will examine the severity and determine your level.”

 

 “So... what levels are there?”

 

 “Average ranges from two to three upon entry, but it varies from agent to agent. I assure you that it’s a very straightforward process.”

 

 “Right.” I take a deep breath, inwardly preparing myself for whatever is about to be done to me, convincing myself that if this works, I’ll be set for a reasonable amount of time. And I can get through it. “Okay.” I say. “I’m ready.”

~

 

TBC... sorry if it’s a little short. I swear, the next part will be more interesting!

[Elyze]

7 hours ago, Skylacticon said:

So... mine would be allergies.”

 “Correct.” Her tone is very unwavering and sure-sounding, almost like a computer voice. “Today we will determine the severity of your allergic reactions.”

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa wait,” I say. “Right now? Here?”

 “That’s right. What we will do is expose you to the allergens you’ve listed - for example, cat fur. Then, after a break, move onto the next allergen. For each one, we will examine the severity and determine your level.”

This sounds very interesting, I look forward to learning about that process  

[AngelEyes]

15 hours ago, Skylacticon said:

“Average ranges from two to three upon entry, but it varies from agent to agent. I assure you that it’s a very straightforward process.”

Oh dear.

[missfemmefatale]

I really like this story and am so excited for the next part!!! Also Mason is so adorable! 

[Shikee12.haley]

The anticipation is so real I can't wait 

[Skylacticon]

Ayiyi. Here we go.

Origins of Johns pt. 2

 

——

 

I’m biting the inside of my cheek, surveying every nook and cranny in this boring empty room, and tapping my feet on the floor. I check my watch - 10:17. Not bad. Still plenty of time to do... well, whatever I’m about to do. The dose of Benadryl I’d taken about three and a half hours ago was starting to wear off, like it had any real effect on me anyway. The tv screen has gone black again. I wait silently for a bit, and wonder if I should exit or call out and ask if there was a flaw.

 

 But- “Right then.” Rolanda’s deep, computer-like voice comes back, but the screen is still dark. “We’ll begin with dust, shall we?”

 

 I remain silent for a bit. Did I have a choice? Whatever. Just go with it.

 

 “This allergy test will take at least five minutes. To begin, I will turn the dial which will cause dust particles to come out of the pipes on either side of the room, exposing you to the allergen. I strictly advise you do not suppress, hold back, or hide any symptoms you may face for any of these tests. Is that clear?”

 

 “Yes ma’am.” I say.

 

 “Good. Are you ready, Mr. Johns?”

 

 I take a deep breath. I savour the clear ability to breathe, the silence of doing it, the comfort of replenishment. I was going to have to deal without it for five minutes. And another five minutes after that. And another five minutes, again for each allergen I listed. Voluntarily. I breathe in deeply once more.

 

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

 “Good. I will turn the influence up to three.”

 

 I’m holding in my nervousness, a mild fear of the unknown. Just waiting is a pain. It’s not like I don’t deal with this every day, right?

 

 I hear a sudden hiss coming from the two pipes on either side of the room, and notice right away that a grey smoke is being emitted. I sit still and try to breathe normally. It must have been about ten seconds before I begin to feel it, a slight irritation in my nose, gentle enough to be easily rubbed away. I clear my throat.

 

 “I want to you describe any symptoms you may have, as clearly as possible.”

 

 “Okay. Um.” I clear my throat. I’m rubbing my nose, and I realize the increasing itching sensation is getting harder and harder to ignore. “I’m... -heh...” My nose is starting to run. Shit. I’ve got to sneeze. “I’m- hiH’TDSCHHuh!!... ‘scuse me...” I clear my throat again. “*snf* Right. Sybtobs...” I can feel the building congestion. I already have to sneeze again, I feel it attacking me all at once. Cmon, focus. Symptoms. “I, ah... *snf* I’b... By eyes ahhre... waterig... I’b sorry, I have to- HURRISCHH! Eh’ESCHHIU!! Hih! AESSCHHH!! *sdf*” Jeez. My allergy to dust was never this bad so soon. I cough and sniffle wetly, definitely feeling that I wasn’t going to stop. “*ahem* Sorry.”

 

 “You don’t have to apologize, Johns. If needed, we can have you fill out the survey after the session.”

 

 I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “Thah-thanks. Huhh, hih... Hah’ISSCHHh!! ISCHHh!!” I’m so stuffed up. How long has it been? I sniffle harshly as my nose wont stop running. “ub... Could- hiH’ESCHhu!! *sdf, snnff* could I get sobe tissues please?”

 

 “Of course.”

 

 A compartment opens in the wall, revealing a dispenser. ‘Of course. Why not?’ I walk over and take a few, then blow my nose. I can see my blurry reflection in the steel wall,  and look down at the black clothes I’ve been given. The dark fabric is now slightly powdered in the front with the microscopic allergens. I feel the toll its taken on my system. My eyes are now itchy and streaming, and I try to hold back from rubbing at them. It feels as if I’ve got a thousand tiny feathers up my nose, itching, tingling, and constantly pleading the inevitable-

 

 “Hep’TSCHHh!! ESCHH!! Huh- Uh’ISCHHu-ISCHHh! Huhh....” They’re coming faster now. I begin to give myself false assurance- ‘just thirty more seconds...’ “Heh’ISSCHH-IESSCHH-ESCHHIEW!!”

 

 “Test one completed.” Phew. Thank god. “How do you feel, Johns?”

 

 “HURRESCHMmph!!” I bury my face into the wad of tissues and blow. I-hhI’b-aH’TSCHu!-TSCHU!” 

 

 “Please exit the room to your left. We will have you prepped for the next test.”

 

 The words ‘next test’ are heavy in my head. Next test? I wasn’t even done with this one...

 

 “Hah’PTSCHHh!-unhh... *sdff*” I blink my itchy eyes, which are blurry with allergic tears. Ugh, how was going to face the next test in this state?

 

 The next room has warmer lighting, and only consists of what looks to be a white reclining chair and a few cabinets. There, sitting by the chair on a stool is a girl in a white lab coat.

 

 “Hi, I’m Bella.” She says, with a half-smile. “Please have a seat.”

 

 Great, I think, as I basically collapse into this white leather reclining chair. Well, this is charming...

 

 “I’m going to give you an antihistamine, that will only last until the next exam.” If I can tell, her voice has the hint of a Japanese accent, gentle and calm.

 

 I open my mouth to say something, but as quick as a flash, the itch returns- “Hih’MnxXGk!-chiew...” Not wanting to seem gross, I manage to stifle with great effort, then realize immediately after that it may have been a bad idea. A cracking pain shoots through my head. I can’t help but wince.

 

 “Bless you.”

 

 “Thanks.” I put one hand over my eyes. I wait as she retrieves something from the white cabinet, and assembles it on the mini counter.

 

 “You’re okay with needles, right?”

 

 I’m so caught up in my fog of misery that I almost hadn’t noticed what she said. I blink dizzily and clear my throat, then sit upright. “Yeah... it’s... fide.”

 

 “This will only take a second.” I give her my arm, and she injects the medicine. “There. All done. The meds work pretty fast, so I’d say you’ll only need a few minutes before you move on.”

 

 Oh right, I still have more to go.

 

 “Okay.”

 

 “Also... it would be great if you could fill this up.”

 

 She passes me a small piece of paper, with the words ‘REACTION RESULTS’ at the top. Then below, there are boxes for me to answer: ‘symptoms’... Hey, I remember that one... Then ‘On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the severity of your reaction? (Compared to previous related reactions)’. Gee, this is intricate stuff. I fill the form as best I can, then give it back to her.

 

 Next test - cat fur.

 

 A mix of dread and determination takes over me, as I’m brought back into the same room as before. This time, it’s clean of dust.

 

 Now I never had anything against cats. Or the way that they’re portrayed so viciously by some people. I begin to remember the first time I began to notice what happened whenever I came in contact with a cat - or if I even stayed in the presence of one for more than a few minutes.

 

 Just thinking about them, my nose begins to tickle. “Hih-“

 

 There are two cats in front of me. Hell if I can recall the names of the breeds. One is orange and yellow, and slightly chubby, while the other one has very long hair, that’s completely white as snow. I swallow hard, noticing that the white one won’t break its gaze toward me. I almost have to restrain from rising from the metal bench, and fleeing to the back corner of the room. It’s bright blue eyes hold a questioning look, making me wonder if it’s blinked in the last ten seconds.

 

 Then I remember what I’m here for, and think - ‘fuck it.’

 

 Without hesitating or flinching, I lean forward to stroke it’s fur. Now, my nose is burning. I can see wisps of Snow White fur floating into the air, until I have the sudden urge to-

 

 “Hih’RRSCHh!” Oh, and here we go again... I bring my hand up to rub my nose, momentarily forgetting that it’s the one used to just pet the damn cat- “Ah’ESSCH! ISCHH!! hhehhh... hih! HaH’ESSHHIU-ESCHH-eschh-tsshu!” I gasp for breath, which is merely just gearing me up for another intense string of sneezes. “HAAESSCHHh!! ISCHhuhh!! Heh’ISCHHIEWW-yYISCHHIEWW!!-Ah’TSCHIEWW!!”

 

 Sheesh. I think it should be clear to them just how allergic I am, now...

 

 “Huh...” I sniffle and rub hard at my nose, wondering just how I’ll be able to go on after this... ‘Fuck. Shit.’ When I open my eyes, I’m finally able to notice the cat at my feet, happily nuzzling itself on my legs. No- “hihh’ngGISCHhieww... hhuh...” My eyes are streaming once again, my nose running like a faucet. “Huh! uH’TSCHH!-ITSCHh-yYiSCHh!!-unh- huhh? HIESSCHHIEWW!!” The last one is pretty loud, forceful, tearing at my throat. The congestion is the worst, and I’m coughing, searching for where I left my tissues. Oh, but I can’t stop... “GxXNt’chiew...” I stifle, pinching my nose as I rise from the bench to grab more tissues from the compartment in the wall.

 

 I press a wad of tissues to my nose and blow with all my might. Unconsciously, I’m stepping behind the bench, slowly backing away from the two cats.

 

  “Ihhh... huh... *sngk*” Panting dizzily, my head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut. My breath comes in hitches, and at this point I think I’m wheezing- “Hihh... ihh! HURRESCHH!! HrrRRSCHHhu!!” Please. It’s been more than five minutes, please... “ugh... hih’Ischh!”

 

 “Test two completed.” Great. Hallelujah. “Please exit the room to your left.”

 

 Yes, yes. You don’t need to tell me twice. I stumble through the door, feeling way worse than I did after the first test. This time I sit at the edge of the recliner, trying to breathe deeper in between sneezes. 

 

 “Hih’ESCHhiew!”

 

 When Bella turns around, I can tell from the sudden change in expression that I must look pretty horrible. I know I FEEL pretty horrible.

 

 “hiH’ASCHhiu! *sdf* Sorry.” I sniffle and rub my nose, coughing to clear my throat from the wheezing. I wipe my eyes and try not to hunch, as I know that it helps me breathe easier.

 

 “That’s okay, hun.” Like before, she has a needle, only this time I didn’t see her prepare it. “Can I see your arm?” She asks gently.

 

 After the shot, I begin to feel a little better. I can breathe easier. My limbs loosen up and my back loses its stiffness. My head is beginning to ache from the attack, and I close my eyes and bury my face in my hands. 

 

 “Mason?” I blink, and peek up at Bella on her stool. “You’re doing really well so far, okay?” Her tone is gentle and caring, reminding me of a nurse. It’s strangely different from the constant demand of the boss, from anyone who’s told me to stop. The kindness hits me hard, so I just turn away and nod. I close my eyes. “We’ll let you rest for a while in here before we move on. Let us know when you’re ready.”

 

 I nod, frankly feeling exhausted. “Thanks.”

 

 “Okay.” She gets up to leave, then stops. “You only have one allergen left.” I know. I wrote them. “It’ll be over before you know it.” She says and offers a tiny smile before going.

 

 I sigh and stretch out over the reclining chair. Did they still have cameras on me? I don’t know. Do I care? Yes.

 

 I lie still and close my eyes, feeling relief in the way the itchiness was fading and dreading the next test already. I don’t know if the headache was a symptom of the reaction, but it didn’t seem to be going away. Oh well. Was this all it would be? Tests? Constant judgement? I shake my head. I want to assure myself that it’s important that I’m accepted into this program, but the aftermath is killing me...

 

 Then it hits.

 

 I have no where to go. Not the group home. Not Ovex Inc. Not anywhere else. Plus if I’m able, I just might learn how to cope, to really cope, and gain control over this... I have to try at least. I have to try.

 

——-

 

 I sit up and take a deep breath.

 

 “I’m ready.”

 

 I’m told that the next test will take place in another room, so I follow Bella down the hall until stops at a door, that’s labelled: ‘Greenhouse’.

 

 “Your next text allergen will be pollen,” Bella says gently, and opens the door for me. “Good luck.”

 

 “Thanks,” I say, and walk into the next room.

 

 The greenhouse is chock-filled with plants, most bearing lush, colourful flowers of all kinds. Okay. Definitely didn’t know what I expected, but okay. It’s almost humouring to me that there’s a white deck chair in the centre of the room, that I suppose I’m meant to sit in. In front of it is a folding table with a box of tissues in the top right corner.

 

 “Test number three - pollen.” Says Rolanda on the loudspeaker in the corner of the room. “Mason, this category of allergens is wider, of course, than any other. We will test you separately for general hay fever. For now, we’d appreciate if you selected the type of plant that causes your allergies.”

 

 Well. I don’t exactly know how else to say this, but...

 

 “If there is more than one, try to find the one that is most severe.”

 

 There we go. Brilliant.

 

 I walk along the different types of flowers with a hint of reluctance - roses, pansies, forget-me-nots... the flowers are separated into rows, and for ever row I go through, I think it’s already causing my eyes to itch. The air is filled with a giddy sweet-smelling haze, welcoming me with open arms. I walk faster, then come across a familiar plant, one I know will cause the most suffering. I pick up the pot and bring it back to the table in front of the deck chair.

 

 “Lavender. Is this your choice?”

 

 “Yes- *ahem*” I wrinkle my nose, feeling the grains of pollen from every species of plant in this room start to overwhelm me. 

 

 I guess I’m supposed to do what I did in the last test...

 

 I rub my nose, for what seems to be the thousandth time today, and sit on the edge of my seat until my chin is right above the flowers. Lavender perfume. The crazy, taunting scent that Nora always seemed to love wearing... There’s a teasing itch at the tip of my nose, not enough for me to sneeze though. I move closer and fold my arms on the table. I lean in and take a long whiff of the sweet scent...

 

 And exhale. Then... “hih! Huh!” The itch is taunting, fleeting for a moment then all at once- “hiH’NxXNGth!-uhh, HITSCHHIEWW!!” I sniffle and blink, as my eyes are filling with allergic tears. I sniffle some more, and lean forward. “Huhh... *snnff!* hiehhh...” Quickly, I lean back and rub hard at my nose. For a moment, the itch is too intense, I think I inhaled too much pollen- “ESCHHIEWW!! Hih! IESCHHhuh!! *snnrff**snf* HUTSCHHh!!” My nose is completely stuffy once again. I feel tears dripping down my face as I dive into another fit. “EESCHHhuhh, god- ARRUSCHH!! Hep’CHIEWW-TSCHhu! Hunhh...” I stand up from the chair and walk around in front of the table.

 

 I grab a few tissues from the tissue box and blow my nose, before sneezing again, hard. I sniffle and groan quietly. I step back and sit down in the chair, patiently waiting out the next three minutes of sniffling and sneezing, because at least some point this will be over-

 

 “Great. Thanks. That will be all, Mr. Johns. Please exit to your left.”

 

 Bella is waiting for me when I come out, ready with what looks like a change of clothes. Gratefully, I take them as we walk back to the small room with the reclining chair.

 

 I run my hand through my hair. Geez, I must look a mess. “hihP’ISCHhuh... *sdf*” oh right. I am a mess. I sniffle weakly and wait for the medication to work.

 

 “That’s all for today, Mason.”

 

 “Yeah?” Wait. I furrow my brows. “What about the other test she suggested- general hay fever... something?”

 

 “Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Bella says quickly.

 

 “Why not?”

 

 “We were able to tell from the level of your reaction. Besides,” she turns away from her monitor to face me. “We think that it wouldn’t be best to push you too hard on your first day.”

 

 I exhale through my nose and comb back my hair again with my fingers. ‘What now?’ I think, feeling tired.

 

 “So that’s it.” Bella says, with a note of enthusiasm, then goes to open the door to the first room. “Thank you, Mason. The boss will want to speak with you.”

 

 “Thanks.” I give her a small nod, and head back into the room of nightmares.

[AngelEyes]

Love this. The story keeps getting so interesting!