Therapy Sessions #3
“The thing is, you could have, and a lot of people do. They recognize the damage they’re causing and still refuse to seek help.
You’re actively choosing to seek help and taking it seriously, even after so many years of building yourself up against it.
That takes strength, bravery, tenacity, and a whole lot of love, not only for Qi, but for yourself,” he says, his choice of words catching me off guard and pulling my attention from the panels back onto him.
“Myself?”
Marcus huffs a bit, as if he’s unsurprised by my confusion, before nodding.
“You have to love yourself enough to fight to keep the relationships you want in your life. Instead of pushing Qi away, despite not feeling worthy of him, you’re doing everything you can to keep him and be worthy of him.
You’re just missing one key element of the equation. ”
“What’s that?” I search his eyes, the sincerity in them plain as day.
The fact that in the time I’ve known him and all the sides I’ve shown him, I’ve seen a million things in his eyes, from pain to desire, to sincerity, and even to anger, but never once, not even a moment, has there ever been judgment there.
A smile flits across his face, and he leans in just a fraction towards me. While it might have been just the slightest closing of the gap, it felt like a mile as my heart kicks into overdrive at the proximity.
“You are, and have always been, worthy of Qi. Don’t get me wrong, the therapy is necessary, especially since you don’t understand that yet. But it doesn’t negate that you’ve always deserved the love your brother gives you.”
The complete conviction on his face is overwhelming. Since I’ve never been good with serious moments, I take the seriousness out of the conversation by teasingly miming what he just said before rolling my eyes.
“I hate you sometimes,” I scoff in my prickliest voice.
I know he knows that I’m teasing him and just trying to brush off the sentimentality before it overwhelms me, and he barks out a laugh at that.
“Did that make you feel better?” he asks, knowing I heard the message he was giving me and took it to heart.
“A little bit,” I sniffle airily, causing him to chuckle.
Grant’s office door opens, and he walks out with whom I presume is another of his patients. As his previous patient leaves, he shoots me a kind smile.
“Give me just a couple of minutes, and I’ll call you in, Qiang.”
I nod in acknowledgment before he slips back into his office, most likely to finish typing up his notes for his last patient.
“That’s your therapist?” Marcus asks with an unhappy note in his voice.
I turn to look at him, and his brow is furrowed with frustration. “Yeah. Is there something wrong?”
“Well, no, but he doesn’t really look like a therapist, does he?” he asks seriously.
I frown and think about what vibes Grant might have given off, since I had instantly liked and trusted the guy.
Which is saying a lot because that had never been my experience before.
And he’s been great. I’ve been really thankful that Tristan helped me find this guy because he’s been really patient with me despite my struggles with opening up since I started seeing him.
“I don’t know, I’ve never really noticed anything non-therapist about him,” I point out.
Marcus shrugs. “I mean, it’s just he’s kind of… ho–young,” he says, changing ‘hot’ midword to ‘young,’ and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
Argumentatively, Grant is a bit of a dreamboat.
He’s about the same height as Marcus, but he’s a bit less toned.
Probably more of a runner than a footballer.
He has big, bedroom-blue eyes, thick lips, and long brown hair tied back in a ponytail.
His style is a random mix of hippie and hipster.
How one pulls off a look like that, I don’t really know, but somehow both of those descriptions seem to meet him well, but not quite completely, until you put them together.
“There’s no rule that says therapists can’t be hot. Where do you think the therapist and client trope came from?” I point out, riding a little bit of a high because the only reason Marcus would care that my therapist is a little dreamy is if he’s a bit jealous.
Just because I think he’s probably moved on to Imani doesn’t mean there isn’t still the lingering crush there, especially when the flares of heat hit his eyes here and there, and it’s kind of nice to ride the high of it a bit, even if it amounts to nothing.
“That did not help even a little bit,” he grumbles unhappily.
I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Do you know there’s a glint of green in your eyes when you get jealous? Not sure if it’s actually there or if you’re so obvious I can’t help but imagine it there,” I point out with a gloating tease.
Marcus huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. “Who said I’m jealous?”
This time, I let the lip go and just laugh at his ridiculousness. “Oh, please.”
He grumbles again, letting out a wordless ‘hmph,’ and I nudge him lightly.
“Stop it; he’s just my therapist.”
“Not jealous,” he breathes out unconvincingly when Grant walks back out to call me in his office.
I get up, leaving Marcus to grumble on his own. I get about halfway to the office door when Marcus calls out. “Hey, Qiang. No tropes,” and I can’t help the chuckle that rockets through me.
I nod toward him before shaking my head lightly at his ridiculousness and stepping into Grant’s office.