The End is Easier

~Time Lapse: four days~
Dear,
Journal thingy.
I go back to see Mr.Way today.
Its been about four days sense I've been to an appointment.
I'm sorta excited, but a bit nervous.
I'm almost positive that my mother informed Mr. Way of my 'incident.'
I know he's going to make me talk about it, I really don't want to.
(I don't hate writing in you as much as I thought I would. Progress Journal thingy, progress)
Sorry this is such a short entry. I'll find time tomorrow to write some more.
But its almost five, and I have to get ready for my appointment.
Latter Journal thingy.
XO Frank

I closed my journal and slipped it into my backpack.
My mother was still at work so I decided to walk to Mr. Way's office.
I put my backpack straps around my shoulders and left the house.
It was surprisingly warm for October.
I put my headphones in and began to listen to Oasis. The song that was playing was Champagne Supernova.
'How many special people change?
How many lives living strange?
Where were you while we were getting high?
Slowly walking down the hall, faster than a
Cannonball.
Where were you while we were getting high?
Someday you will find me, come beneath the landslide. In a champagne supernova in the sky.'

I hummed along to the lyrics.
The walk to Mr. Way's office was probably ten minutes tops.
I was there before Champagne Supernova was over.
I did my usual thing. I waved to the secretary, got into the elevator, and walked into room 245.
Mr. Way was sitting at his desk writing or drawing something. I couldn't really tell.
I sat down on the ugly grey couch.
Mr. Way still didn't look up at me from whatever he was doing.
"Uh... Mr. Way?"
I tried to get his attention.
"Yes Franklin?"
I was confused. Why the hell weren't we starting our session?
"I'm here?"
I said that like a question. I mentally slapped myself for being so stupid.
"I can see that, Franklin."
I didn't say anything back. I just kinda sat there. Waiting for something, anything.
Finally Mr. Way spoke.
"Well let's get on with today's session, shall we?"
He got up from his chair and came over and sat next to me on the ugly couch.
"Your mother called me yesterday to explain why you haven't been coming to your appointments."
I sighed and took in a big breathe.
"We need to have a discussion about this."
He pointed to my sleeves.
I shook my head from side to side.
I did not want to talk about it. He wouldn't understand.
"Frank, we have to. I want to help you. But first you have to cooperate with me."
There was a long pause.
"Can I see?"
At first I shook my head 'no.' But I caved.
I began to roll up my right sleeve, it wasn't as bad as my left.
It had medium sized scars. They were up and down my whole arm.
Some small and long, some thick and short, but most of them were a just medium.
He looked over each and every one of them.
I felt so naked, so exposed. I never show anyone my scars. My mom has seen only some.
He didn't say a word.
After he was done looking over my right, he motioned for me to pull up my left sleeve.
I shook my head no.
I felt like I was going to cry.
This was such an invasion of my privacy.
I looked down at the floor.
I put my right hand over my eyes.
Mr. Way gently grabbed my chin and brought me face to face with him.
He stared into my eyes. I didn't know what to do, I just stared back.
"Frank, I really want to help you. Please just let me help you."
He looked as if he was also going to cry.
He let go of my chin and motioned to my left sleeve again.
I rolled it up.
I tried not to look myself. It was ugly and disgusting.
My arm looked disfigured and gross.
Some scars were red, some were pink, some were kind of a tan-ish color.
I had cut over every inch of my left arm.
It was so ugly and horrible. But Mr. Way kept looking.
He flipped my arm over, back and fourth.
He lightly hovered his fingers above some of the scars.
I could see a tear slide down his face.
Why was crying over my cuts?
It doesn't have anything to do with him.
Why does he care?
"Frank."
He choked out.
I just looked at him.
"Yes."
I answered quietly.
He didn't say anything. Just kept staring.
I pulled down my sleeve.
He got up from the couch and walked over to his desk.
"How are the antidepressants working?"
How is this question even relevant to the situation?
"Uh.. fine?"
I heard a small buzzing sound coming from Mr.Way's desk.
He stopped rum aging threw some random papers, and picked up his cell phone.
"Hold on Frank, I have to take this."
I sat and waited on the couch. Trying hard not to eavesdrop, but failing miserably.
"Hey Mikeys."
He paused listening to whatever 'Mikes' was saying.
"No, I'm with a patient."
Another pause.
"Yes its him."
His voice got quieter.
"I do not have a crus..."
Mr.Way looked over at me.
"Mikey, I have to go."
"Bye. Love you."
He put his phone in his pocket and walked back over to me.
"Girlfriend?"
I asked suspiciously.
He chuckled.
"No. Mikey's is my little brother."
He laughed a little bit more.
"Ha, girlfriend."
I cocked my eyebrow.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I just I haven't had a girlfriend in a long time."
I was shocked. Seriously, Mr.Way is attractive as fuck. He's so just... Perfect!
What women wouldn't be all over that?!
"I'm not really into that thing."
I was still confused. What 'thing'?
"What do you mean?"
I was so confused. What does he mean.
"Frank, I'm gay."

Notes

Yay a new chapter!
Fact about me: I was named after The Cure song, A Letter To Elise.
If you've never listened to that song or The Cure, I highly recommend them!