"Good running out there," one of the attendants said before leaving Kevin to face the door alone.

"Thanks..?" Kevin replied, unsure how an attendant would've even seen his performances.

Eastwood was among the most prestigious in Wisconsin, but track and field showcases were common, and although Eastwood's was broadcast on a YouTube live stream, it certainly wasn't watched enough for him to expect a rehab attendant to compliment him.

Kevin pushed his confusion to the side, focusing back on the door hiding behind it either someone that would boost his mood or royally kill it. It was always a coin flip on what the mood of the day would be.

He pushed it open, taking in the visitor's room he had been in just days prior. On the couch sat his mother, pretending to watch the mounted TV. He knew that she hated the concept behind television and the inactivity it promoted.

Heck, her constant nagging was probably a key reason he hadn't turned out to be a couch potato.

"Hey, Mom," Kevin said, announcing himself warily.

She turned to him and after a brief second, a smile appeared on her face. A good sign.

"There's my little superstar."

Kevin cocked his head to the side as he joined her on the opposite couch. "You watched the live stream?"

"I sure did. Almost the whole facility did yesterday, actually. I had to beg for access to the damn television but once I told them the reason they made it a whole thing."

That explained the attendant.

"Anyway," the smile returned to her face, "I didn't think the pride I felt watching you take your first steps could ever be beaten, but watching you win those two races might be a close second."

Kevin couldn't help the smile that fought through to the surface. It had been a while since he had the feeling that his mother was proud of him, or even fully sane, for that matter.

"Thanks," was all Kevin could think to say.

"I've been telling everyone since then that you're going straight to national finals, but they still have their doubts because the nationals are built on this insurmountable pedestal, especially for a little guy from Wisconsin. But I'll wait patiently for the day I can say I told them so. It's my favorite line after all."

"No kidding." Kevin thought back to the million times he had to endure those exact words.

"Why didn't you run in the relay, though? Don't you usually run in it? I was looking forward to another win."

Kevin grimaced. After his brief moment of exhaustion after his 100-meter win, Coach had pulled the plug on the rest of his races, stating that the showcase wasn't worth overworking himself. Kevin could see the wisdom behind it, of course, and part of him had been grateful to not be forced into running the 400 meters, but watching his team lose in the relay had been painful.

It felt like he had let them down.

After all, Kevin didn't believe that he actually got tired ever, and in a way, he wasn't wrong. Fighting through physical therapy and rehab after his injury last year had built on his already strong mental resolve and now it felt impossible for him to feel mental fatigue when it came to competing on the track. However, as Coach Ryan constantly reminded him, his body still had a limit.

"Coach Ryan decided that it was best I rest for the remainder of the day and not push myself too hard," Kevin replied.

His mother nodded in understanding. "That Coach Ryan has always been great at managing your health." She got a faraway look in her eyes, likely remembering the period when Kevin's injury weighed heavily on his mind and he was considering quitting track. It was a dark time for him where his main avenue of happiness was absent and seemed to be moving further and further away from ever becoming his reality again. Then Coach Ryan had appeared, a savior - no, his heaven-sent angel who helped him in ways even she hadn't been able to.

"I respect his decision and you should too," She said with a tone of finality.

"I do."

Kevin surveyed the all-white room. Though it still seemed as lonely as he remembered, it felt brighter than before, like they had changed the light bulb or something. Regardless, it didn't ease his guilt at putting his mother here. Had he done the right thing or could she have gotten past her troubles herself?

The question haunted him every time he thought about it.

"How are you doing?" Kevin asked, eager to distract his mind from the spiraling thoughts.

For a split second, her expression darkened and her eyes became downcast. It only lasted for a fleeting moment, though as she got her features back under control quickly enough to make the average person wonder if they had just imagined it. Kevin was aware that he had gotten his gift of controlling his features from his mother which made it easier to recognize and see through her facade.

"Pretty good actually," she said. "The people here aren't as intolerable as my last few...vacations." Her face brightened a bit. "I even made a friend here."

Kevin looked at her skeptically. "Really?" 

He found it hard to believe his mother would make a friend in what she considered a mental institution for crazy people. 

"Really. Her name's Lily and she's like this bright ray of sunshine. Well...when she isn't in one of her episodes that is."

"I didn't expect you to finally make a friend."

"Me neither. It really opened my eyes to something," she replied.

"To what?" Kevin asked, noting the rainbow of emotions hidden behind her eyes. The "medicine" was supposed to make her less erratic and on the surface, it seemed to be working; it certainly was a far cry from the mess she had been a few weeks prior, but still, Kevin had his doubts.

"Facing life's woes is much easier with a companion who understands. Even a slight understanding allows you and that companion to fight the redundancy of the world together."

Kevin frowned. She knew he didn't like it when she talked like that.

"The reason I'm telling you this is because I think it's time you got such a companion."

Kevin's frown deepened. "What are you talking about? I have Michael, you know that."

She nodded. "You do, and his support is unquestionable. But does he truly understand you?"

Kevin couldn't wrap his head around the question. How could he not understand him, the two had been as close as Shaggy and Scooby since childhood.

Yet his lips didn't move to form the words. 

Could Michael truly understand him when he didn't have the mind of a competitor? There was no doubt in his mind that Michael understood him to an extent, but was that enough to say he truly understood Kevin when he stepped on the track?

Kevin silently wished managing thoughts and emotions were as simple as running was.

"I'll let that silence speak for itself," his mother finally said. "I'm not saying that Michael isn't a good friend or isn't a needed part of your life, but perhaps it's time to find someone else along with him, who can understand you a bit better. Perhaps...a female."

Kevin raised an eyebrow, studying his mother's face. "Is this all an elaborate ploy to make sure you  get grandchildren?"

She smirked slyly. "Partly. I have to make sure you don't end our prestigious bloodline after all." As quickly as the smirk appeared, it disappeared. "But I'm being serious, Kevin."

Kevin nodded. "I hear you, Mom."

"You hear me, but are you really listening?"

"Yes."

Kevin understood where she was coming from though he didn't fully accept the idea of Michael not being enough. Even then, his mother could only be described as an extrovert, someone capable of making friends as easily as she breathed. She seemed to think it was that easy for everyone once they put their mind to it, but this wasn't the case for Kevin. 

It was far deeper than his ability to make friends. Residing on the outskirts of the school hierarchy had given him a clear view to observe how fake people could be. His mother was trying to make it seem like he was lonely or something, but was he really?

In truth, Kevin couldn't tell how he felt. It had been like this for the last year and a half, whenever he stepped outside those tracks, he just felt...numb.

"You know, my mother sat me down like this once, albeit in a much more homely setting," she said, looking at the walls with slight distaste. "She lectured me...about going out with your dad."

Kevin tensed, looking up in surprise at his mother. She too was tense but had a faint smile as she looked at the walls, or rather past them - to a distant memory. Kevin's dad being mentioned was a very rare occurrence.

"You see, he was the typical bad boy type," his mother continued, "but I saw through the facade he put up. He was just associated with a bad crowd and went with the flow. But your grandmother didn't see that, she just saw the results of his actions. Eventually, though, she recognized what I saw him and how he could understand..." she motioned at the room, "this. I had friends that I was close with but they could never comprehend this part of me, although it didn't make them any less good friends."

Her voice cracked. "Perhaps he understood this a bit too much."

Kevin hugged her, saying nothing.

His dad had committed suicide almost two years ago now. It hadn't been deemed a suicide officially, since outside sources who hadn't known him personally figured this was just the average drunk driver story. But although the two never mentioned it, it was clear his father would have never crashed unwillingly. He was too good a driver, no matter how drunk he might've been.

His father had suffered from symptoms of depression and bipolar disorder often, although he never bothered to get diagnosed, calling any sort of therapy a hoax to get money in the qualified's pockets. He had good days, bad days and terrible days. That fateful night had been one of the worst ones where he and Kevin's mother had gotten into an argument and he had stormed out of the door saying he was going to a bar.

Little did they know he wouldn't return.

Kevin's mother returned her son's embrace, the two crying tearlessly. 

"Life isn't fair," his mother said weakly. "But when you get someone who you find can fill the void, never let them out of your sight. Promise me you won't deny the entrance of a person like that in your life."

Kevin gulped, his eyes burning as he buried his head in his mother's shoulder.

"I promise, Mom."