unable to deliver

Mythra had had to inure herself to many a difficult and disappointing reality, when she came of the age that meant being granted true independence for an emancipated major. Not just things like doing your own taxes and buying your own groceries, to say nothing of working on your own car, if you wanted any respect, but scheduling your support calls, to best friends as well as to banks.

You had no one assigned to you, obligated to care. Not that you meant that caring had to be an obligation! But how else could you justify taking anyone else's time? How else could you navigate an impossible world, tasked with determining all of your own decisions and faced with a fortnight of frustration for each fork in the road that could have been solved so much more simply by someone just standing at your shoulder and suggesting, I think you should do this.

People seemed to be allergic to recommending anything to Mythra, nowadays. Once upon a time, there had been a great many opinions about where she should direct herself, for what purpose and to see whom. Malos had weighed in on it plenty. Of course, they were in more similar situations now than either would best prefer to acknowledge.

Every internship, for instance, had Mythra questioning her career path, reevaluating just how much drudge it was that she could shut up and take versus that which surely signaled a wrong fit, for all parties involved. Same applied for tough classes, volunteer work. Was this the adult world, or a star-shaped peg in a square hole?

She wanted to feel something, think something, know something. She had to.

Well, it was an unwinnable game anyway. If you stuck with something, you were boring, settling, lacking in discernment. If you didn't, you were flighty, flakey, fickle. Lacking in fortitude.

Addam did frequently aver to Mythra that she was free to ask his advice whenever necessary - encouraged, even. "I will tell you the truth, to the best of my ability," he'd said. And Mythra both had and hadn't liked that, because it showed that the guy really gave a damn enough to (promise to) try, but why the loophole? Why the incessant need to admit to his own weakness?

As if hearing what he had to say ever really helped. Having someone to bounce your thoughts off of? Mythra could talk to herself and the wall if she needed that, thanks.

Not that she wanted to be ungrateful! But over and over again, she tried to make herself just a little bit vulnerable, let just a little bit of aged wisdom in through a crack, modify herself just the slightest angle toward others' honest expectations, and what did she get?

"I feel your pain."

"That's a decision for you to make."

"I'm sure you'll find your way."

And then the conversation would be over. Nothing of any value said. The connection weaker than it had ever been.

It wasn't about the truth, anyway. If she knew the truth, she wouldn't be asking. Or something like that.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

It sucked. Plain and simple, it sucked. Mythra had no power to make it unsuck.

Was it her fault? Did she present herself too confidently, in trying to gather her facts toward an all-adult preparedness?

"I'm taking nineteen credits this semester, and the last one - overloaded - is my twenty-hour internship. And then I have my work study job still. Technically I'm supposed to be able to, y'know, study during that time, but the other student who was working with me transferred, so I end up having to do the work of two people. Which I like, I guess...? If I can talk it up properly later on. I don't want to go back to being someone who just...doesn't show up for things, but I don't know if I've overcommitted myself."

She'd forget to tack on an apropos "What do you think?" at the end, and Addam would hum and nod and say, "Sounds like you've got quite the schedule cut out for you. You do seem to have it handled, from where I stand. Is there anything I can do?"

And Mythra would sigh, sounding huffier than she wanted, because she didn't want to have to tell or even ask Addam to do anything. She just wanted someone else to...see it. To find some divine best interest to set in place for her, and give a guidance she could actually buck back against.

She knew Addam wouldn't force anything on her - how could he? She paid her own rent, bought her own gas, busted her butt for her own financial aid package in full. And through it all, she swore she didn't want a parent, but maybe that was still kinda what she wanted?

"No, I guess not," she'd mumble. "It'll all be over with eventually."

Addam would frown, but not inquire into it any further, and turn to asking her what she wanted to order in for dinner. His treat - always his treat. Mythra's part was to play a good sport and read his mind, or if not that then to play nice and make sure to order something palatable for his way-too-safe tastes.

She didn't have to ask how he got where he was now, because he was just following the path set for him by his family. Getting away from them had happened somewhat naturally, so he was free to shape the rest of his life as he pleased. Unlike Mythra, however, Addam was a being of contentment, so there wasn't much of note happening in that department.

"Where'd I get being such a try-hard from, anyway?" Mythra wondered, around a mouthful of bacon-and-egg pizza. What remained of Addam's half, still stubbornly sans the eggs, dwarfed hers by a ratio of three to one.

"Not from me, certainly," her sustenance's cautious benefactor replied. "But I do admire that in you."

Malos was a try-hard. Malos was also pretty cringe.

But hey, maybe Malos didn't have anybody to tell him so.