the anatomy of love [BxB] COMPLETED

19

    Finally, Jackson stopped going. He decided he hated therapy and didn't need it. After all, how could he talk to some random stranger about his feelings, his thoughts? How could he begin to put into words the devastation and the guilt? Emotions he barely understood at that age which were threatening to drown him.

    But he's older now. Soon to be graduating college. And he's desperate. If going to therapy will bring his coach back on his side, possibly improve his grades, and keep him out of trouble back home, it's worth it, right?

    Jackson has to believe it is.

    He tells himself this will all be over soon and opens the office door.

    "Hello Jackson." A woman. His body relaxes. She's older, with dark skin and shortly cropped, curly hair, graying at the temples. She smiles at him, a maroon smile, a pretty color on her. Jackson feels reminded of someone, but can't pin down who.

    It doesn't matter. She's still a therapist.

    "Hi..." He realizes he doesn't even know her name.

    "Call me Delilah." She gestures for Jackson to take a seat on a plushy chair, the pillows decorated in soft pink patterns. The desk sits low, an unassuming beige color. Delilah rests her hands in front of her, loosely folded. A large turquoise rock hangs from a long necklace, which Delilah covers with her hand every so often.

    "It's nice to meet you, Delilah," Jackson says, smiling warmly. First impressions are key. "I love your necklace, by the way. It's beautiful."

    "You are very kind, Jackson. I can't say I'm surprised, I've heard you're quite the charmer." She has a fond look in her eyes, which Jackson wishes he could shrug off. Therapists seem to get off on being helpful, and it irritates Jackson to no end.

    "I'm a people person," Jackson says. He doesn't want to dwell on how much he's already given away about himself. Delilah doesn't seem to notice, as if chit chat just means chit chat. She nods her head and smiles. Typical.

    Jackson knows in this room, chit chat is never just that. Every word he says, every gesture he makes, every silence, every rant―they mean something. Delilah might look like the nicest grandma in the world, but Jackson recognizes the sharpness in her honey brown eyes, the same look he has when meeting someone for the first time.

    Jackson's not the only person in the room that's good with people, and they both know it. Delilah picks up a mug of tea and takes a sip. The mug is the same turquoise color as her necklace.

    "I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count out the grains that make me what I am." Delilah closes her eyes, sighs, smiles. She opens her eyes and gazes at Jackson with a warmth and intensity that can only be compared to light traveling across the universe, across worlds. "It's my favorite quote. By Virginia Woolf. Have you ever felt like that? I know I sure have."

    Jackson hesitates, wondering which answer serves him best. On the one hand, claiming to know himself could spark a challenge, while on the other, admitting he doesn't know himself sounds like a confession.

    "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Delilah says, smiling, as if she knows how trapped Jackson feels.

    "Sometimes, I guess. I mean, I'm only twenty-one." Jackson hates how defensive he sounds.

    "And how does it make you feel?" There it is. The question of feeling, of emotions. His insides twist and he feels sick.

    "Not to know myself sometimes?" Jackson shifts in his chair. Looks away from her all knowing eyes. "It can be scary. Unnerving."

    "Does knowing yourself better make you calmer?"

    "I guess?"

    "Jackson." Delilah looks at him carefully. "Why are you here?"

    "For therapy?" Jackson didn't think therapists asked these types of questions.

    "And what does therapy mean to you?"

    He resists squirming in his seat, and sighs, irritated, hot and almost anxious. "I don't know. Talking? Trying to understand why I feel the way I do?"

    "And how do you feel?"

    His eyes grow hot and Jackson blinks, horrified that he might start crying over absolutely nothing. "I feel...I feel. Lost."

    "Lost?"

    A tear escapes and rolls down his cheek. Delilah's clear, soft gaze slowly wavers and blurs, and he notices in a detached way that his knee has been nervously bouncing for a long time.

    "Everything keeps slipping away. I don't know. Like I'm falling. Like I keep losing people." Jackson blinks rapidly and looks up, breathing and trying to stop the tears. His throat fills with warmth and his nostrils flare as he tries to quell the panic. Delilah's musical cadence gently pulls him back down.

    "Why do you lose people?"

    Jackson laughs, almost unwillingly. He wipes the back of his hand on his cheek. "I was hoping you would tell me that."

    "Jackson," her voice stern. "I know nothing, you must remember that. I am not here to give you advice, or tell you anything about yourself or your life. You are the only one who knows the person you are, and how you interact with the world. My voice is here as a guide, a light in the dark as you refamiliarize yourself with who you are."

    "What if I don't want to know?" Jackson's voice sounds small. Scared. Like a little boy asking why mommy was crying. He holds onto Delilah's eyes, the deepness, the sureness, and knows her answer before she gives it.

    "It's up to you."

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a/n: so you've met Delilah, one of my favorite characters. She is a beautiful guide in this story and someone essential to Jackson's growth, so stick around bc you will see more of her mystical, calming, magical presence....

next chapter will have some Mr. Sawyer so stay tuned! ...

please vote and comment !!! I love reading all of your comments, like seriously. Tell me what you think. Talk to me. I'm not Delilah but I have been known to guess the future before, so write away! <333333