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Mr. Danya
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He was crushing the neck of the bottle again, that tremor coming back as his gripped his eyes shut. Every one of them who had been wanting to hang out, get along and all that crap; why did none of them ever realise how simple it was to actually help him?

“You know what the issue is?” he said, but it only really came out in a faint murmur. He took in a breath, determined to meet Jasmine’s gaze before he spoke again and make sure she understood it plain and simple.

“People like you are the issue. People who keep coming up to me and trying to team up, then telling me how stupid I am for not wanting to. You think we should all make friends when we’re about to die, that I'm a dead man if I don't. That it’s my fault if I’m just not someone who makes friends with anyone.”

Never really could, and probably never really would.

“So if you really want to help and you’re not just saying that, do me a favour and go away.”

He didn’t flinch. He knew she was going to start insulting him, tell him how screwed he was, try to make him feel worse than he already did, but he didn’t flinch.
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Dreams and Reality · Group Therapy