We Fell In Love In October

Session 1.2

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good years | zayn
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HIS BLUE EYES pierced through my smiling facade, tearing it down into shreds. He was the man at the bar, the one who lent me company when I was wasting away after the breakup. We didn't speak much that day but we didn't have to speak to know that we were messed up and torn from the side. I still remembered how he had looked that day — grey wrinkled shirt, tie undone, hair messy and empty blue eyes. He had seen me in my most vulnerable state. How much ever I tried feeling less exposed under his scrutinizing gaze, I couldn't. I felt like all my emotions were see-through, spread out wantonly naked. The silence didn't help either.

I tore my eyes away from him and met Lilly's curious ones. "Leave us alone," I said and she gave a strained nod before slipping out of the room.

I cleared my throat which had gone parched despite me drinking water just a few minutes ago. Gesturing to the couch, I steeled my voice and said, "Please take a seat."

I prayed that some divine intervention would make him forget our first meeting. "Your name?" I asked.

"Jayce. 26 years old," he simply stated and I scrambled to note it down, just to avoid his gaze. I stalled time by searching for an actual notebook instead of jotting it down on my phone. I didn't necessarily need to note his name down but the situation demanded it.

"How can I help you?"

His eyebrows rose and I quickly lowered my gaze. His glance was accusatory, as if to ask how in the world I was going to help him. He had seen me completely wasted, brooding over the cruelty of life, drowning myself with alcohol and swimming in the Heartbreak Sea. The scary information was that it was only a week ago.

And now I was claiming that I could help him. He must think I am crazy.

I opened my mouth to clarify that I was mentally stable as of now but before the words spilled out, he cut me sharply.

"I want you to write me a diagnostic report saying that I am mentally fit to work and I don't need any kind of psychological aid."

My jaws locked together, opened and then shut again, making me look like a gaping fish. His words rang in my ears. I realized I wouldn't have been this irritated if he had actually called me crazy. What he said to me just flew beyond the levels I set for arrogance.

I clenched my jaw and answered. "Do you think this is some centre that sells fake reports to help you evade your work complications? Let me remind you, Jayce, I am a licensed therapist and I would never condone anything against the rules set for me. Do you realise the criminal depth of your request? If you are required to produce a report, you must be unfit. Which I already think you are."

He scoffed and I fisted my hands to prevent myself from doing something stupid. Some clients can be stubborn, nosy, clingy and violent. But the man sitting in front of me had the audacity to ask me to break rules and then scoff at me. "How can you tell? You don't even know me," he snipped.

I crossed my legs and leaned back into my chair. "Your bitten nails talk about your anxiety. The faded bruises on your knuckles signifies your anger issues or frustration. And the red eyes and the bags underneath, tells me that you haven't slept well in weeks which could be a case of insomnia," I said and he tried to cover the stumble of his confidence.

"You were recommended to me as one of the best therapists in town. I heard that you were young and I thought you would understand my situation and help me with the report," he attempted to stand up from his seat. "I guess I was wrong."

"Perhaps I should remind you of what a therapist does. A therapist counsels, advises and helps a client recover from their mental health illness, not help them hide it better," I stated with a shrug. "If you think bribing a positive report just for the sake of it will put a full stop to your problems, then you are so wrong. You should find a permanent way out. If you need help with that, then I'm happy to help you."

He let out a sick laugh that sent shivers through me. "Funny how you say that when I remember you sitting beside me in a bar, drunk out of your mind and blaming your problems on the cruelty of life."

I sucked a breath. There it was. The jab that I anticipated but to my luck, it hit me worse than I imagined. It stung me.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I am completely okay now," I retorted, hoping my voice wasn't too shaky.

"Is it so? Is that why you are overworking yourself or is it because you are scared of what loneliness could do to your already dangerous thoughts?"

My eyes widened. "H-how did you know?"

"Wasn't something hard to guess. I overheard your staff talking about the extra appointments. It seems that you find solving the problems of others to be easier than finding a solution to yours," he said. "Is that how you escape from your reality?"

My eyes lowered. Jayce was extremely observant and there simply was no point making excuses when I knew that he had figured out the truth. He read me like an open book and I hated that. The past few weeks had been taking a toll on me and now Jayce had become a successful contributor to the cause. I imagined what he would say if he knew I was crying over a toxic relationship that should have never happened.

"Look, I know I am not okay. I have issues, yeah. But I really need this job. This is the second time they are sending me off to get my reports and this might be the last straw. I might get fired if I don't show them that I am alright." He ran his fingers through his hair. "They want me out of the company and I don't want to give them any reason to do that. Getting a job isn't as easy for me as it is for you."

His voice fell and that's how I knew I might have a chance at convincing him to actually get therapy. "Jayce, you are looking at it this way. But I think the company sees you as an asset they aren't willing to lose. That's why they are willing to give you chances. They sincerely want you to sort out your problems and be a part of the team again. Most companies don't do that. They would have easily fired you but they didn't. That means something."

Jayce's brain seemed to stutter for a response because nothing came. I gave him the time to think.

"Maybe. But I need to go back in. I can't spend three months doing nothing," he said.

"You could actually go to therapy."

"No."

I sighed.

"You have three months with nothing to do. You might as well dedicate this time to your mental health, which isn't in good shape," I said. "Therapy can put your life in perspective. It can do wonders if you take it seriously."

"No, I don't have the mental energy to sit through sessions," Jayce said. For a second, just a second, his eyes mirrored sadness and vulnerability. He refocused his eyes and the moment was gone.

"What are you going to do then?"

He stood up from his seat. "Find another therapist."

I shook my head with a weak laugh and joined him. "You won't find anyone who will hand you a report just because you demand it."

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. But I will definitely find one who isn't as messed up as you."

I winced and he saw it. I quickly covered it up with a smile. "Good luck with that."