"I guess…"
"You guess? Isn't this your room? Oh! Your parents designed it, didn't they?"
Renji didn't reply. He turned his back to Ryuga, slowly walking toward the empty grey wall. Raising his right hand, he gently brushed his fingers over it.
"Perhaps… This color likes me a lot. It's stuck to me like leeches, refusing to leave me alone even for a moment. Taking my breath away, holding me in a prison of no escape."
"Ooohk, poetic are we? Well, let's ignore this topic and get to the main point."
Ryuga glanced around before settling into the chair by the PC. The quality was excellent, he even bobbed on it a couple of times before speaking again.
"What's the main point?"
"Well, to be honest. I don't think you're possessed."
A small chuckle escaped Renji. It was so deprecating that it didn't even need to be voiced. This was exactly what he had expected.
To him, Ryuga was just another fraud, a con artist scamming his parents. He'd already suspected it, yet deep down, in the smallest corner of his mind, he had still wished it to be wrong.
Maybe, just maybe, this guy, who barely looked older than him, could help. But alas, his hope was misplaced.
"Ok, if you say so, Mr. Exorcist. If I'm not possessed… then what's happening to me? Do you think I'm faking everything?"
"Yeah…"
Ryuga's blunt answer drew another smile from Renji. He covered his mouth with his right hand, suppressing a bitter laugh. It was happening again. Another excuse for their incompetence. Another justification for their failure to cure him or even to help him.
'At this point, I should have already accepted my future. But… people want to live. And I'm no different.'
Even though he had the will to live, he saw no hope of doing so. Each day brought another stranger, each with a new excuse, a new theory to rationalize his condition, a new way to comfort him, a new medication to try.
But none of them ever truly believed him. None of them tried to understand him… or even to help him.
"See, Renji. I noticed how you carefully hid the cookie you were 'supposedly' eating. I know you've been secretly eating less and less. And that's the reason for your decreasing weight."
"Oh, wow. And why do you think I'm doing it? Do you think I want to waste my parents' hard-earned money?"
Renji's tone rose sharply at the end. His fingers clenched into tight fists, and a frown creased his face.
There was disgust in his eyes,.pure and unfiltered. He looked down at Ryuga as if he were filth, something lower than a heap of garbage.
Yet, the man under that withering gaze remained calm.
"You don't need to boil your blood. I think you're suffering from anorexia, a type of eating disorder where people eat less and less because they think they're fat. They want to maintain their looks, but in doing so, they harm themselves even more.
"You must have been suffering for quite a while. I saw a picture of you in the living room. You looked healthy back then. You're hiding your disorder because you think your perception of your body is true. But it's not. You're unhealthy right now. Your body needs nutrition and calories to function.
"Yet, you're hiding your disorder. There are two reasons why you might be doing this. First, peer pressure. This whole household is full of rich people, with their insane diet and body standards. Maybe you're just trying to fit in.
"Second, this disorder mainly originates in females. Maybe you're ashamed of having such a condition, so you're sweeping it under the rug. But you need to understand—"
"Are you done yet?"
Renji had listened attentively to Ryuga's words until now, not twitching once. But his self-control had its limits, and Ryuga had just crossed them.
"I know you're feeling troubled—"
"You don't know anything. Nothing. You know NOTHING. Aren't you an exorcist? Why are you diagnosing me like a doctor? Where's the voodoo doll? The chants, demonic circles, rituals, or whatever other nonsense you people do?
"Why are you acting like a doctor? Didn't my parents already make it clear that we've seen plenty of them? If you can't help, then don't make things worse.
"Your words are hurting me. They're hurting a patient in dire need of help. What you're doing right now is mocking my situation. If you can't help, then please get the FUCK OUT OF HERE."
Tears began streaming down Renji's face. He dropped to his knees and started bawling, slapping the floor as hard as he could. Each strike made his body tremble, a sense of insurmountable dread washed over him.
In the end, he could only crawl to the corner of his room, hugging his knees and burying his face.
Ryuga watched in silence, his expression placid. He didn't say a word as he slowly stood up.
He made his way toward the door, but before turning the knob, he glanced back at Renji one last time.
His lips parted to speak, but no words came out. In the end, he simply shook his head and swallowed what he wanted to say.
This wasn't the time to antagonize Renji. His condition was too delicate. Any wrong move would only worsen the impression he had of him.
'His previous sessions with doctors or therapists must not have gone well. He probably has some trauma tied to it. I should wait until he calms down before proceeding any further.'