Fragile // Sequel to Torn

47. |

// Jakob's point of view //

Today is my first counselling session and I can't say I'm looking forward to it. Yes, this is supposed to help me, but I'm just not sure how willing I am to be open about my problems. What if they're homophobic? Are psychologists allowed to be homophobic? I know I'll need to talk about that because it's a big source of my problems. I never started feeling this way until being bisexual became a problem for me. In a weird sort of way, coming to terms with my sexuality is the best thing that's ever happened to me, but also the worst.

"I-I'm scared." I stutter when we stop outside the building. I wasn't going to say it but it kind of slipped out.

"I'll go and check you in." Chris sighs, nodding at me.

"Baby, come here." Ethan tells me, taking my wrist and pulling me around the corner.

"I don't want to do this." I finally admit. I'm not even sure why I'm so freaked out about this.

"Jake, stop," he tries, pulling me in for a hug. "It's going to be okay."

"It's not going to be okay." I continue, unable to stop the unhelpful thinking from pouring out of me.

"Stop." Ethan says again. I can tell he's starting to get frustrated but I just can't stop.

"I'm not going in there."

"Jakob Delgado, I love you but you need to hear this. You promised me weeks ago you'd go get help. Now Chris is the one that has gone and done it for you. Don't give me the 'I can't do this' or the 'I refuse to' crap. A promise is a promise, and I promise that no matter what happens, you'll be okay, I'll be right outside the door, and I'll still love you." He tells me. I did need to hear that. I look down at Ethan's shirt, somehow finding the Authority Clothing label so much more interesting.

"Okay."

// Ethan's point of view //

I sit in the waiting room with Chris. As of about two minutes ago, we're the only ones in here. He's currently typing something but I can't see his screen. But then his phone starts ringing and he quickly excuses himself and walks outside to answer it. I'm left alone again. Then, all of a sudden, a door down the passage opens and Jakob's psychologist that we met earlier as Patricia, smiles as she walks towards me.

"You're Ethan, right?" She asks.

"I am. Is everything okay?" I reply.

"I think that if it's okay, Jakob would like you in there with him. He's feeling quite uncomfortable and upset and I was thinking that maybe if he had a friend in there, it might help him." Patricia tells me. Oh. Friend. He hasn't told her.

"I think that'd be best."

I let myself be led down the hallway until we reach the small room. It's a very white room with a playbox in the corner for kids. There's also a bookshelf of assorted different books and a bright red mat. Jakob is sitting in one of the three chairs. His hair looks like he's run his fingers through it a few hundred times, tears in his eyes that haven't yet fallen. He looks up when he hears the movement and instantly sees me. He looks guilty, and I'm trying not to feel disappointed at all. Jakob has been in here for half an hour and he still hasn't mentioned the fact that he's bisexual and has a boyfriend. Or that his boyfriend is me.

"I thought having a friend might help. He can also help explain things you're having trouble with, okay?" Patricia tells Jakob. It must have been pretty bad if she feels the need to baby him like this. For some reason, I'm not surprised.

"Um, he's not just my friend." Jakob suddenly says. A flutter of butterflies fly through my stomach.

"Then what is he?" Patricia asks, sitting down and taking a sip of her water.

"Um, I think I've left a few things out." He admits, looking down.

"Why don't we go back to the question we started with, okay?" She tries. I don't know what that means but Jakob speaks anyway.

"I'm Jakob Delgado," he breathes, but then takes my hand. "I'm bisexual, and he is my boyfriend, not my friend."

"That's cute. Thank you for being honest with me." Patricia smiles. A huge weight is lifted off of my shoulders.

"What exactly do you want me to do in this situation?" I have to ask. What am I here to do?

"Jakob is having some troubles telling me why he feels he needs counselling. This is just a general question I ask all of my clients before we get too far in. The first step to recovery is acceptance." She nods as she tells me. I'm about to speak when Jakob does.

"I'm here because I get angry and take things too far."

Patricia looks to me.

"That's the truth, but it's not everything." I say.

"I can't say it out loud." Jakob whispers, looking at me as the first tear escapes his watery eyes.

"J...Jakob has problems with his body image. Lately we have discovered that he throws up more meals than he eats and none of us want that for him. That's why he is here." I announce hesitantly, not breaking eye contact with him.

•••

Jakob doesn't come into my room that night. It's 2am and I'm still hoping he does. That's when I realise I won't be sleeping without him beside me. Ignoring the cold, I slide out of bed and tip toe out into the passageway. I'm surprised to see a light on in Jakob's room. I listen from the hallway just in case, but hear nothing but slight shuffling. Without knocking, I open the door. Jakob is sitting a this desk, writing something. Whatever it is, he covers it with his arm and turns around.

"What are you doing?" I ask, placing my hands on his shoulders from behind where he's sitting in the chair and starting to massage them.

"I... Um, nothing... I'm..." Jakob trails off. His arm shifts slightly and I see a few words written on his page. I'm drowning in 2am.

"Writing?" I suggest.

"Something like that." He whispers, moving his arm so that all of what he's written is covered.

"Can I see?" I ask.

"Uh, it's not done yet." He swallows thickly.

I trick Jakob into thinking I've given the topic up by continuing to massage his shoulders again. He leans his head back, his eyes moving to look at the wall. Once I'm sure he's zoned out enough not to react, I reach forward and slide the paper out from underneath his arm. It's like he begins to protest but gives up almost immediately.

Oh no, I'm drowning in 2am. Oh, no, over and over again. It's like heart break in the middle of winter, and time doesn't change 'cause I'm not with ya. And oh no, you're playing with my heart again at 2am.

I'm trying to disguise the fact that I know exactly what this is about. The more I read, the worse the feeling inside of me gets. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I place the paper back on the desk. Then the one thing I've been wanting to say slips out.

"Sometimes I think you forget that you're the one who broke up with me."

Then I walk out.