This chapter is edited.
WARNING:
This story deals with some heavy topics i.e. mental health, depression, mentions of suicide, physical abuse, as well as eating disorders. Please read at your own risk.

As soon as Dipper entered the office, he donned his cold persona and tried to crush any of the happy feelings he got from Pacifica out, that way Preston wouldn't find them.

He was always spectacular at keeping his emotions under wraps, so hiding that shouldn't be too difficult for him to manage.

"Ah, Dipper, come on in. Sorry for being late, I had another patient in here earlier." Dr. Southeast explained as he carefully placed a file into its respective place in the cabinet.

"I'd like you to know that I was waiting for twelve minutes." Dipper replied coldly. "As a psychiatrist, I expected you to have your time-management skills down to a tee. However, it hardly shocks me that you don't."

Donning his cold personality allowed him to remain in control of the situations he was placed in. There were only two places where he could relax his harsh personality just a smidge; his home, and with his lost boys.

Maybe three places? He certainly let down his guard with Pacifica. And he was still deciding if he liked that or not.

Dr. Southeast hardly seemed phased by his comment. "Mason, would you like to talk about time-management skills?"

"I'd rather you not call me Mason, as we discussed last time I was here." Dipper bristled lightly. "Unless you want this session to be cut short once more?"

Dr. Southeast frowned, appearing to be frustrated with Dipper's antics. Finally, after a long drawn out sigh, he complied. "Very well. Dipper, was it?"

Dipper nodded. "Correct."

The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a little bit, before Dr. Southeast sighed once more and began to speak. "What have you been doing lately?"

Dipper frowned. So Preston did see him at the diner. With the boys. He was asking around the question, trying to get Dipper to be open about it. "Is this about you seeing me at Greasy's Diner?" Dipper inquired, keeping his tone light. Wouldn't want to give his hand away first turn.

This phased Dr. Southeast. "So that really was you there." He mused, his tone quieting. "What were you doing there?"

"For your information, I can go wherever I want." Dipper rolled his eyes. "I may be a mentally unstable teen, but is that truly a crime? They simply worry about my mental state. I can go out and about without people needing to fear for their lives."

"But why were you there that evening, Dipper?" Dr. Southeast asked patiently. "Nothing will get solved if you don't comply with what I'm asking of you, Dipper."

Dipper crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. He didn't want to tell the doctor anything, but he had a few things he needed to sort out. Maybe, just maybe, he could lightly touch some subjects without allowing the crazy doctor to dive deep into the meanings behind anything he mentioned.

Time to test it.

"Well, I was meeting with a few old friends of mine." Dipper expressed slowly. "They hadn't seen me in some time, given the fact that I've been M.I.A. as they so call it."

"Why do you call it that, hmm?" Dr. Southeast jotted a few notes down before turning back to look at the teen.

"Why do I call it M.I.A.?" Dipper raised a brow. "Because they believed me to be missing in action. It's as simple as that."

"Who were these friends of yours?"

"Just some old friends from the system." Dipper said, nonchalantly. He chuckled lightly and murmured, "my lost boys."

"I beg your pardon?" Dr. Southeast raised a brow in return. "Your 'lost boys'?"

"One of my old buddies made the reference." Dipper stated, feeling it wasn't the best idea to let the crazed doctor know his friends's names. "He told me that I was the Peter Pan to them, that they were my lost boys. Apparently it had always been this way."

"Peter Pan, why the reference to a fairy tale?" He asked.

"I dunno, guess you'd have to ask him." Dipper shrugged.

"I've noticed something, Dipper." Dr. Southeast placed his writing pad onto the desk in front of him. "This is the most you've opened up since we started these sessions. You aren't lying to me, are you?"

"Now why would I do that?" Dipper rolled his eyes. "But I hardly believe that's the thing you've noticed, you're just keeping it back. Come on, tell me. What is it that you've noticed about my 'story'?"

"Well," Dr. Southeast rubbed his chin. "You keep mention this one 'friend' of yours who made the analogy. Yet, you refrain from referencing him by name. Why is that?"

"My lost boys prefer anonymity." Dipper explained, crossing his arms. "Society has been unkind to them, so why would I do society a favor by telling them exactly what my lost boys think and what their names are."

Dr. Southeast frowned. Dipper knew he had the doctor in a box here. Trapped. Perfect.

"Society has been unkind?" Dr. Southeast tapped his pen against his writing pad.

"You doubt that?" Dipper rolled his eyes and tried his damndest not to laugh. "How many of these kids have to go to some sort of therapy just because society doesn't understand them? Society is afraid of what it doesn't know, and unfortunately, it takes its blame out of the little kids who aren't like the rest and alienates them. Sadly, in most cases, these kids have had enough of being shut-out and shunned. They take actions into their own hands and it ends up with them six feet under. So don't even pretend that society has been even somewhat 'kind' to my lost boys."

Dr. Southeast stared at him, mouth halfway open a little ghost of a gasp exiting him.

Dipper glared head-on. "Go ahead, dive into the psychology behind that little spiel."

"That was the most you've ever said." Dr. Southeast seemed to be frozen in place. "Why are you so heated about this particular subject?"

Dipper hardly faltered. "I've said it mainly because of my lost boys. They've been treated horribly and no one deserves that. Especially not after the sorrow and harrowing affairs they've been through."

"And yourself?"

"It doesn't matter about me, because I've never gone through anything." Dipper muttered. "You keep trying to push psychological-aspects onto me when there is truly nothing wrong with me."

"Dipper," Dr. Southeast braced himself with a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." Dipper replied with false sincerity. "Was that not the confession you wanted? Did you want me to confess my insanity to you? I'm afraid you won't be receiving any of the sort from me."

Dr. Southeast frowned lightly. It was quick, but Dipper enjoyed reading facial expressions and cues.

Dipper felt content. He had his doctor trapped in a box. Fortunately for him, this was one cornered animal who wouldn't attack him.

But then, Dipper remembered his promise to André. He had to get that Xanax. So, sucking in a little bit of his pride, Dipper decided he would let this doctor think he was getting somewhere.

"I get nervous on airplanes, y'know?" Dipper suddenly muttered, keeping up the charade of a reluctant teenager.

Dr. Southeast looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"I've been on a plane a few times," Dipper elaborated. "And every time the plane starts, right before takeoff, I always feel like I'm at a loss for breath."

Dr. Southeast regarded him with careful eyes. "You get nervous on airplanes?"

"Yes, it's like I said." Dipper kept his tone carefully light. "I feel as though I can't breathe."

"Just on airplanes?"

"It's slowly shifted into my everyday activities." Dipper continued. "Sometimes, when I am in groups that consist of more than four people, I feel the same."

"Is that how you felt when you saw your friends at the diner?"

"Yes." Dipper said without hesitation. This was just too easy. "I try my best to remain calm, but I can only be there for so long."

Dr. Southeast pondered it for a long moment. "I can write you a prescription for Xanax. And then I want you to take the low dosage."

Dipper nodded. "Of course."

As Dr. Southeast took his damn time writing down the prescription, Dipper sucked in a deep breath.

That was as open as he would choose to be with the doctor, despite the fact that it was a lie. He knew how lies worked, it's rarely ever all a lie.

Lies tend to have more truths to them than most people believe.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?" Dipper raised a brow, done with the charade he'd performed.

"That's the question I'm supposed to ask you, Dipper." Dr. Southeast frowned lightly.

"Well?" Dipper feigned curiosity. "I already expressed one issue. I hardly feel the need to discuss anything more with you."

"We were on the cusp of a breakthrough, Dipper." Dr. Southeast continued, nearly pleading for him to continue. "The more you talk, the easier this becomes."

"And if there is nothing for me to say?" Dipper asked, all traces of humor disappearing from his voice.

"I want you to explain how you feel, Dipper." Dr. Southeast expressed plainly.

"Ah, you're upset about me." Dipper tutted. "Why don't we spend some time talking about your psychological issues, shall we?"

"That's not appropriate, Dipper."

"Hmm," Dipper pondered the thought with a tap on his chin. "Let's see, let's talk about your success in the medical field."

"Dipper—"

"—you've allegedly 'cured' your patients even though a majority of them never get the break-through you've wanted or hoped to get. You get off on hearing about teens and their psychological disorders and that's what's been driving a wedge into your marriage. Ah yes, you marriage. Your wife thinks you work too much and you never spend time with her. You don't consider her feelings, or read them, despite that being your field of expertise—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Dr. Southeast bellowed, his face red from rage. "You have no right to my personal life and we will refrain from talking about it."

"So I was right on the nose with my deductions?" Dipper cocked a brow. "Heh, I can even impress myself."

"Our session is over." Dr. Southeast declared all of a sudden. "At our next session, I expect you to be more compliant. There will be consequences if you don't."

"I'm shaking where I stand." Dipper mocked as he rose from his chair. "Try and intimidate me, Preston, it won't do you any good."