Dante went to his first therapy session with Dr. Morgan on Tuesday afternoon at three PM.
Adrian waited outside in the small reception area, trying to read for his literature class but mostly just staring at the same page without processing any words.
His leg bounced anxiously. He checked his phone every thirty seconds even though there was nothing to check.
This felt important somehow. Like Dante choosing to pursue therapy meant something significant about his commitment to working through things instead of just spiraling.
An hour later, the door to Dr. Morgan's office opened and Dante emerged looking emotionally wrung out but somehow lighter than when he'd gone in.
His eyes were red like he'd been crying. His hair was disheveled from running his hands through it. But his shoulders weren't hunched with the weight he'd been carrying for weeks.
"How was it?" Adrian asked carefully, standing up and resisting the urge to immediately hug him or bombard him with questions.
