He gasps and moans so softly when the grip tightens, and again when he's released.

"You'd make me the minotaur," says Johnny in a hush, almost to himself now. He shakes his head slowly, finally tearing his eyes away, looking down at his feet, at the incredibly narrow gap of hardwood floor between them.

"I don't want that," he says. "I don't want to be a monster. To be the thing I fear."

Not an answer, not really. He looks back up, finding the doctor's eyes, because he knows on some level that he has no choice. "I don't know," he admits.