•𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊•

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"You think Jave heard anything?" Clare asked as I laid on his chest

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"You think Jave heard anything?" Clare asked as I laid on his chest.

"No, I convinced him to listen to these therapeutic sound waves to help with his nightmares." I told him truthfully.

"Oh yeah about those, he finally talked to you about it?" He asked.

"Yeah—he said that he keeps dying in his dreams, like every night. They're always different but the way he dies is the same way, a gunshot." I explained.

"Damn..." he sighed.

"Nobody his age should have been through half the shit he has." He continued

Coming from him that says a lot seeing as he didn't have the best childhood either.

"What are we gonna do?"

"I'm gonna start therapy sessions with him this week." I told him.

"But don't you have your own shit you're going through?" He brought up.

"I don't want you putting your shit on the back burner." He said adamantly, "We just had a conversation about equal stress."

"Clare it's fine—I'm okay."

"It's not, what happens when I leave again, Jay—I'm worried about you, I don't want you takin' on mad shit and overwhelming yourself." He explained—his grip around me tightening.

"You remember when you had those seizures, what if they start back up again and I'm not here," he brought up.

"so what do you want me to do?" I questioned, almost exhaustedly.

"Just look into to it, there ain't no shame in getting help. I'm all for you helping Jave only if you are good yourself. If not, then I'm not having you work with him." He spoke adamantly.

I stayed silent causing him to speak up again, "baby I'm not saying I don't trust you to help him—I just want you to help yourself for once, that's all." He cleared up.

"You know I love you, but when it comes to your own health...you're a hypocrite."

He spoke in a gentle tone, but his words were still sharp and they ate at me

When I was silent he sighed, "my bad, I shouldn't have said allat',"

"No it's okay—you're right. I have a degree and all these titles that say I know what I'm talking about. But when it comes to myself, I lose all of that."

It was true that he was right, but oddly right, and oddly level headed.

"What did they do to you over there?" I asked, joking but I still wanted an answer.

"We worked a lot with discipline and trust on the field, everybody with a mental illness has to have a therapist and take medication if needed." He explained.

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