Parsons

(A/N: As this is my first story/series, feedback/comments are always appreciated. I make sure to read all comments/reply to feedback and I sincerely thank you guys for tuning in for every update. It's super motivating.

I also wanted to mention that at this point, while I try to double check the best I can, some typos/repetitions might happen. English isn't my native language and even with Grammarly I sometimes have difficulty reading. With time I hope to improve. I appreciate your patience.)

-

My therapist's waiting room felt stuffier than usual. Old furniture, faded wallpaper, and a TV that just showed Netflix previews. The receptionist was always typing away at his computer, too busy to at least put on an Adam Sandler movie or something.

Maybe it wasn't stuffier. Maybe it was the nervousness of telling her I wanted to discontinue therapy. Two and a half months were nourishing, but at this point, I felt like I squeezed out everything I could. I missed going to the gym without Aaron insisting I join him for a barre class. Then again, his legs were in great shape.

"Heath?" my therapist asked. She was a woman in her 60s a full foot shorter than me in a very grandmother-esque ensemble. She looked like the kind of person who gave you butterscotch candy, not the kind you discussed your sex life with - but damn, was she good at digging.

I stood up, hands in my pockets as I followed her into her office. "How was your weekend, Doc?"

"Fantastic! My husband just installed our new electronic fireplace," she beamed, letting me in before closing the door behind us.

"Great! Just in time for the cold," I smiled sincerely, getting comfortable on the teal couch I had familiarized myself with.

Aaron was the one who had suggested Dr. Jackson.... along with fifteen other therapists in the area. He had asked for my help when fixing his car, which meant I just had to stand there holding a flashlight and hand him tools now and then.

I'm not sure how long it took him to memorize their details, but he was reciting them like a prayer. "...but he's twenty miles away, but according to reviews, he's a very good therapist. I think you should try Jackson, though. She- wrench."

I handed him the wrench.

"Excuse me, Dr. Jackson. She was a psychiatrist before she went into counseling. Up to date with the LGBT, has had her consultation for over a decade, state certified - I can find you a copy online-"

"Aaron, I don't care," I had admitted, fixing my grip on his flashlight. "How much does she charge?"

Enough for me to have to bid adieu to my gym and a few streaming services. Maybe that's why the Netflix loading screen drove me crazy.

Dr. Jackson did live up to her cyber accolades, though. She was easy to talk to but stern when necessary. I especially liked how expressive her eyebrows were. Like me, she struggled to hold her emotions from her facial expressions. It made me question her truthfulness a whole lot less or maybe I just admired her bluntness sometimes. She was like the mom I never had, except I paid her to care about me.

"Where did we leave off..." Dr. Jackson asked as she reviewed her notes. I loved her office. Colorful but balanced with a fish tank against one of the walls. No fish though, just aquatic plants. They soothed me every time I got a peek. "In the meantime, how was your week since I last saw you?"

I was already paying for this. Might as well leave the bomb 'til the end. "I... got some messages from Landon."

"Your ex-friend?" she asked, taking her pen without raising her eyes. "Tell me more."

"I was about to head home, washing some stuff - I love my students, but what is so difficult about remembering to rinse your brushes? It's basic etiquette, like come on!"

She raised her eyes. "It is tedious, but continue."

Right. "So the class finished and I was alone. I saw he texted me on Instagram, even though he had blocked me. He was basically, you know..."

"He was what?"

I guess I'd never get used to talking about this with her, even if it was more comfortable now. I could feel myself turn crimson.

"He asked me to, yknow, spend the night with him."

Dr. Jackson's eyebrows raised slightly. "Did you go?"

"Of course not!"

"Heath..."

She was too good at her job. "Yes, I did. And I know I shouldn't have. I know this is exactly what I've been working against and the whole thing that even brought me here but -"

"You're rambling, Heath," Dr. Jackson interrupted. I expected her to be judgemental, but her tone remained sympathetic. She lowered her notepad to her lap. "Start from when you accepted his offer. How did you feel?"

"Angry."

-

Angry was an understatement. I was livid, furious, infuriated. Mad that he had pulled me into his facade, mad that he thought he had any room to even contact me, and especially mad at myself for having driven to see him. Hating myself wasn't enough - I needed cloning technology to advance enough for me to duplicate myself and beat myself up.

Yet I got down and found his room, like a hypocrite.

Of course, nothing about me being here made sense, not even the excuse of being horny. I've had no problem denying people or backing out of sex before, why was I still here? Despite everything, I was pathetically waiting for the man who talked down to me, lied on my name, and disposed of me without hesitation. When was I gonna learn my lesson? Where was the pride I had earlier this week?

The door opened. Landon pulled me in by my collar.

Why did his lips taste like home?

-

I left out the explicit details, of course. I didn't need to traumatize the one person that could undo my issues.

"You know, Heath, backslides when you're trying to leave a habit behind are common," Dr. Jackson informed, uncrossing her legs and tucking them underneath her desk chair. "But even with you thinking so negatively of yourself and knowing why this isn't helping your progress, you keep turning to sex for comfort. Have you always done that?"

"I... no, actually no," I acknowledged. I had sex as much as the next guy prior to what happened. "I don't think I'm hypersexual or anything, though."

"I didn't say you were," Dr. Jackson clarified, "but... do you remember what you told me weeks ago? When I asked what you felt after sleeping with someone new?"

I gave her a blank look. Wrong audience. "Doc, I'm not even sure what I had for breakfast this morning."

She joking rolled her eyes, glancing at her notes. "You told me that you felt wanted. Special."

"Well yeah, but doesn't everyone? I mean, someone choosing to have sex with you is flattering, isn't it?" I asked. I didn't think it was that deep.

Dr. Jackson thought otherwise. "Would you say it fills your ego, then?"

I shrugged. "Guess so. Like when I was with my ex, I didn't feel bad."

"You said it was because it felt like justice," she recalled, "but then why did you feel remorse with your friend's spouse, even when you believed that she deserved it?"

"Because he didn't care," I said. I felt like we were going in circles. "I thought he'd at least give me something. I would've been perfectly fine picking up from there, but it was like I wasn't even there."

"You didn't feel wanted."

I bit the inside of my tongue, nodding slowly. "Good play, Doc."

Dr. Jackson smiled sadly and fixed her posture. "And this time around.... how did you feel after?"

-

In paradise.

It was the kind of sex that left you drowsy the next morning and that people could smell on your clothes. It was new, though - it was angry. I avoided anything violent of course, but by every sense of the expression it was hate fucking.

It beat any expectations that I already had for myself. I fucked his mouth and watched as he eagerly swallowed my seed, licking his lips like it was a five-star course. I watched him ride his dildo as my cock came back to life and experienced for the first time jealousy for a piece of silicone. I fucked him against the wall. I fucked him into the bed. I fucked him in the shower. I played with his cock and continued to watch him come undone as I repeatedly slammed into his tight ass, over and over again.

"You fucker. You think you can just manipulate me? You think you can do whatever the fuck you want?" I had grunted while Landon's palms rested against a wall, holding himself up as I jackhammered into his ass. I didn't let my verbosity make me lose my tempo.

Landon took my words and basked in my intensity, his glasses having fogged up from the heat his body was emitting. "Ah! I've been so bad to you, baby. Show me how mad I made you! Fuck!"

I ended the night drained, exhausted, and dehydrated. He ended the night with his ass red, my cum coating his asshole, and blissfully satisfied.

I felt incredible. It was like every bit of resentment I had for him had dissolved a little more every time he moaned my name. It was gone as he rode me, exploding onto my torso while he felt me fill him up.

"Heath!" he had cried out, his bouncing coming to a stop. He had leaned down to kiss me, a tired grin on his face. My dick was still inside him.

I kissed him, holding him tightly. In that euphoric state, I never wanted him to go. I never wanted him to make me feel like a second choice again. I needed him here, with me, like we had always been... in this version, of course.

Landon had pulled away, looking into my eyes. He was flushed, his hair soaked. "Heath..." he panted. "I love you."

-

I had never seen Dr. Jackson so surprised. "He said he loved you?"

I nodded. "Verbatim."

"And do you?"

"Do I love him?"

"Do you believe him?"

I had asked myself the same thing. "We talked about it. He admitted he lied when he found I was into guys 'cause he was scared of realizing his feelings for me. No biggie, considering all the mess we went through but I do believe him. I mean, he hadn't lied before, right?"

Dr. Johnson looked perplexed. She took a beat to write some notes. I took that time to check out the fish tank again. Maybe a goldfish at least?

"What did you tell him?"

"I said I needed time after everything that happened, but I was willing to see where it went."

It wasn't what Dr. Johnson wanted to hear. "Heath, over the past months we've been processing the grief of losing Landon-"

I sat up. "Okay, 'grief' is a big word considering he's alive".

"I'm referring to the Landon you knew. Your friendship since you were a teenager ended in that way. Is this what you wanted? Is this what the Heath of a week ago would want?"

"Who cares?!" I asked, exasperated. She gave me a grim look at the slight raise of my voice. Right, I'm the commoner in the room. "Sorry, I just - I don't get how this isn't the perfect solution. Sure, the ride here was a mess, but I'm here now! He's single, I'm single. He's the only person who knows me inside out! He's the only guy that has stayed in my life that long!"

"I do think people are capable of change, in case you think otherwise," Dr. Jackson began, "but I'm worried this is progressing too fast. I encourage growth and I hope Landon can change, but I wouldn't want it to be at your expense. You're your own person, Heath, with your own constant changes. Not his lab rat."

I stayed quiet, my gaze returning to the aquarium. The plants danced in slow motion, the sound of the filter being the only noise currently in the office. Why did I have to analyze this? I couldn't understand why I had to question this good scenario.

"But this was how it was supposed to be," I proposed, looking back at my therapist. "If Landon hadn't gotten with Tara-"

"But he did."

Rude. "Yeah, I know, and if he hadn't done all that stuff-"

"But he did."

And people said I had an interrupting problem. I exhaled. "I'm trying to say that all that doesn't matter anymore. We're finally here. We're finally where the universe wanted us to be. I mean he loves me! Isn't that the goal?"

Dr. Jackson adjusted her glasses, considering her next words. "Have you ever asked yourself if you would rather be in love or be loved?"

"No. I can't have both?"

"Of course," Dr. Jackson agreed. I anticipated the but. "Yet, I can't seem to help but wonder if there's a connection between your desire to be wanted and what you've mentioned about your parents."

My heart sank. I knew therapists loved digging into your childhood, but I didn't want it brought up. I didn't need vulnerable memories when I was convinced I was getting s solid second shot at being happy. She had effectively brought me to silence.

Time was in my favor though, saving me from the painful conversation. "Our time is up, unfortunately. As much as you can without spiraling, consider what I said. I'm so proud of the progress you've made, Heath. I would hate to see it thrown away for a smokescreen."

Dr. Jackson, as she usually did, stood up to walk me to the waiting room. I beat her to the door without as much as a goodbye, taking long strides to get to my car faster. I held my head down as I neared the entrance.

"Mr. Diaz!" the receptionist called from his desk, making me stop as I put my hand on the door. He continued when I turned to him. "Same time next week?"

"No, thank you," I said quickly, glancing at the TV screen one final time. This prick had waited until I quit therapy to finally put on a movie.