Pythagoras' Theorem (Part Four)

None of my teammates really liked to hit the gym the way I did. Laura worked out a lot, but for now obvious reasons, spending that kind of quality time with me had been too awkward to bear. Hisako worked out in her spare time, but didn't like the pace I set because she could almost never keep up without being dead on her feet afterwards. The only exercise Eddie really got was our X-Men training, and the same went for Ruth.

Luckily, our squad advisor was a mountain of a man that spent a considerable amount of time in the weight room. Hitting the weights with Mister Rasputin had been a great way for the two of us to bond since he became our instructor. The man was an absolute ox, even when he wasn't using his powers. He had to take multiple plates off of whatever we were doing when it was my turn to lift, no matter what we were doing.

I stood over Mister Rasputin, spotting him as he bench pressed 320 pounds while carrying on a conversation with me. He'd gotten to fifteen reps and hadn't lost steam yet, "Bellamy, I am not psychiatrist, but I can tell something is bothering you," He grunted out between reps, "You know you can talk with me, yes?"

So even through the distraction of focusing on lifting extremely heavy metal things, it was clear that I was irked about something, "I don't want to get in the way of your workout," I said as an excuse, "It doesn't really matter anyway. My issues are stupid."

My teachers and mentors universally had a problem with my tendency to downplay my own self-importance. Mister Rasputin was no different, "They aren't stupid to you."

That was where he was wrong, "But they are," I'd been fighting for my life for months; had to do my part to save the world once. After that, in the grand scheme of things, what did any of this drama really mean? "My shit doesn't matter. None of it matters. It's just high school, you know? Eventually, I'm going to graduate, I might leave… someone else might leave… we probably won't ever see each other again… I'm probably gonna be dead in a few years," I threw in casually.

Mister Rasputin frowned up at me and set the weights back on the rack. He wasn't done. I knew he wasn't done. I'd seen this monster bang out at least thirty before with that much weight. He didn't even need me to spot him for that much weight. It was just a courtesy. But trying to get out of it was too rude to someone I respected. So, I prepared myself for a talk with a mentor that I hadn't asked for.

He sat up and reached for a bottle of water. I rolled my eyes and walked off to grab a pair of dumbbells to do some lateral raises. That didn't stop him from gesturing for me to speak, "This is a chick situation," I said as I started my set.

Mister Rasputin raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'so what?' "I have dated women before, Bellamy. You know this."

He had a quip? Well, I had one too, "Then why do you always slip away whenever Eddie starts begging for-?" I stopped myself. I didn't even have the mindset to screw with him. The sooner I just went ahead and talked, the sooner it would be over, "Forget it. Doesn't matter. Anyway, you know how I'm dating Megan? From the Paragons squad?"

Mister Rasputin nodded, "Da. She is very good girl."

"Yeah, she is," I agreed shortly, hesitating before continuing. I finished my set and put the dumbbells down so I could rest and focus on how to handle the conversation, "Well, someone else has a thing for me... and even though I like being friends with her, she can't hang out with me because it's too weird for her. And now that I know what I know, it probably will be for me too."

"How do you feel about this other girl?" Not one to mince words. My kind of guy.

I paced around the area, rubbing my sore shoulders, "I like her a lot. But I never thought about dating her," Honestly, I hadn't even thought Laura possessed the capacity to be attracted to someone else like that.

"And about Megan?"

"I like her a lot too."

"Not love her?"

Crafty bastard, trying to steer me into that teenage trap? It was almost laughable, "Mister Rasputin, I haven't thought that far ahead. She asked me out, and eventually we just got together. It just turned into a thing. And I never had a problem with it. I still don't. I like the thing that we have."

"Hmm."

I didn't like how that sounded. It sounded judgmental, so I kept talking to dig myself out of a hole that probably didn't exist.

"I think I'm fucked up in the head. I don't have any real empathy," I said before trying to explain my mindset, "I can understand when someone has it rough, and feel bad when they're going through a shitty situation and think it's wrong, but..." I trailed off shrugging my shoulders, "I can get attached to people. But I don't feel like I need anyone. Like, I can imagine not having anyone around and getting over it. That's not how you're supposed to feel if you love someone, right?"

I may have said too much. Given too much of a glimpse into the collage that was my mind.

Mister Rasputin didn't say anything at first. In fact, he took a long drink of water. Too long for the little amount he actually took in. That was okay. I wouldn't have known how to respond to my bullshit either. I didn't, seeing as how it remained a problem for me. To his credit, he did admit it.

He rubbed his flat top haircut uncomfortably, "I think this is beyond me. Is a little out of my depth."

I had no sympathy for his difficulties, "You asked."

"I did," Mister Rasputin chuckled slightly, "Have you thought of talking about this with Dr. Garrison?"

I shook my head. Not a fucking chance. No way in hell. That guy was only my shrink to make sure I was good to put on a uniform and take my ass into the field to do some superhero-ing. He wasn't going to double as my relationship therapist... or love guru... or whatever you wanted to call it.

"Not happening," I scowled at the thought of sitting on a couch, bearing what counted as my heart to a person who was being paid to listen and report his conclusions on what I said, "You're lucky I told you. And the only reason I did is because you have no reason to talk about this with anyone else, or even bring it up ever again," I picked up my dumbbells and started another set.

Mister Rasputin smirked at my show of sass, "That, and because you wanted to tell someone," He called me out, not incorrectly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't have said a word of this to Miss Pryde," I told him, "She would have lectured me. I'd have felt even more like crap afterwards. It wouldn't have been good."

That got a laugh out of him. It was nice to bring up Miss Pryde in a way that made him smile instead of mourn. It also gave him a helpful suggestion, "Maybe woman's perspective is what you need?"

There was a chance he was right. Talking to another dude could help me start getting what I was thinking together, but the whole boys' club approach would only get me so far. To figure out how to approach the lady portion of this equation, I'd have to pick the brain of one... or more, if I could swing it.

I had to choose wisely, though.