Why Don't We One Shots

Therapy - Jorbyn

JONAH'S POV

"Ah, Mr. Besson. Welcome back," I say as a blonde boy enters my office. He immediately heads over to the couch, plopping down and dropping his head into his hands. "I thought you said you were finished with therapy."

"I thought wrong," Corbyn whispers. "It's getting worse."

Corbyn Besson. Twenty-three. When he was a freshman in high school, his father was shot in front of him during a school shooting. He tried to help, but unfortunately his father didn't make it. A gun was placed to Corbyn's head and he was almost killed as well, but authorities arrived just in time to save him. Extremely hot-headed. Extremely hot period.

"What's going on now?" I ask, sitting beside him on a chair.

"Same as always," Corbyn whispers. "The nightmares, the fear every time I walk into a classroom, the sound of a gun cocking when there isn't one..." His eyes flick everywhere, always watching. "It won't stop. I can't escape it!"

"Corbyn-"

"And don't you dare try to tell me it isn't my fault," Corbyn says, standing now. "Because it is. If I'd known how to help him, he wouldn't be dead!" His hands run through his hair, a habit he has when he's stressed. "He would be here!"

"Corbyn, calm down," I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. "You spiral out of control and then there's no getting anywhere with you."

Without warning, he bursts into tears. I pull him into my chest. "There we go," I tell him softly. "Go ahead and cry, it's okay. I've got you."

"I miss him," Corbyn sobs. "It's all my fault that he's dead."

"Listen to me," I tell him. "I heard once that God gives you this life because you are strong enough to live it. You have been assigned this mountain to prove to everyone else that it can be moved. You'll get through this Corbyn. And I'm going to be here for you every step of the way. None of this is your fault, and you need to stop blaming yourself for it because it isn't getting you anywhere. I'm always here. If you need to be pieced back together, if you need to cry, if you need to break, I'll be around. I'm never going anywhere. I promise."

Corbyn doesn't respond. He simply looks up at me through his eyelashes and presses his lips to mine.

"Thank you," he says biting his lip softly, staying close and making my heart flutter. "For everything."

"Of course," I say, dipping down to kiss him again. I laugh.

"What?" Corbyn asks.

"You're going to need to find a new therapist."

"Why?"

"Because if I'm going to take you on a date, it would be very unprofessional of us to be in a relationship outside of this one," I say, still laughing, smiling at the thought of Corbyn and I together.

"Consider it done, love."

~