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IRL AND IMESSAGE!
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italicized text indicates a memory/flashback

↳ ❝ I GET IT,
MY PARENTS DIED—CAN WE TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE NOW?❞

Maeve Jarmon was determined to ensure a smooth transition for her siblings as they moved. The past year has been proven tumultuous with her parents' death. Maeve received the news while managing her law firm in Boston, the distance of 2000 miles only intensified the ache in her heart. So, she went on her sabbatical to act as Levi and Lovette's guardian in L.A. until they turned 18.

For the most part, things were going smoothly for the three Jarmon siblings—save for their flight's delay. Levi and Lovette's room had been prepared in the house that Maeve inherited from their parents. It was a colossal house, far too large for a single person. Instead of providing comfort, it only served as a constant reminder of her loneliness in her siblings' absence. Alongside the house, their parents had also managed to pay off the mortgage and left her a substantial sum of money, enough for her to not work for years without any issues. Maeve decided to continue working anyways, using the money to pay her siblings' college tuition. While Maeve had excess to her share of the inheritance, the twins did not. Their parents' will explicitly stated that Levi and Lovette couldn't access their share of the inheritance or the properties until they turned 28. Levi and Lovette didn't mind, because they knew their older sister would take care of them.

The move-in day started without a hitch. Levi and Lovette arrived at their new house around 4 pm, and it took the movers three hours to transport their belongings. While they had left the majority of their furniture back in L.A. (Maeve had used a sizable amount of her inheritance to furnish their rooms), most of their clothes still needed to be moved. As the evening quickly turned into night, exhaustion took over the three Jarmon siblings, and they dozed off on the couch, watching a movie.

With the morning sun casting a gentle glow through the open windows of the living room, Maeve stirred from her slumber, her focus shifting to preparing a delightful breakfast. Humming a cheerful tune, she expertly flipped slices of bread on the sizzling pan. In celebration of their fresh start, she had chosen to make their all-time favourite—French toast. A hint of worry flickered across Maeve's mind, fearing that she might have gone overboard with the cooking. However, any lingering doubts dissipate as she glanced up to see her brother and sister entering the room.

"I made breakfast!" Maeve exclaimed with infectious excitement, deftly transferring the golden-brown toast from the pan onto a waiting plate. With swift movements, Maeve began setting the table, her gaze filled with fondness as Lovette and Levi joined in to help. It was a silent exchange, a comforting silence, as they worked together like a well-oiled machine, completing the task of setting the table. Their smiles and lively conversations hung in the air as they finally took their seats. As they began to eat, Maeve's stomach churned with nerves, knowing she had something important to discuss with Lovette.

"Love," Maeve began, hoping the endearing nickname would help soften the impact of her words, "you have an appointment today at two pm."

Lovette's fork froze in mid-air, her eyebrows arching in surprise as she glanced at the kitchen clock, realizing her appointment was in just four hours. "Appointment for what?"

Maeve nonchalantly reaches for her cup of orange juice. "It's with a therapist. Her name is Dr. Florence—"

The loud clang of Lovette's metal fork hitting the plate interrupted Maeve's words, and a sense of regret washed over her. She knew she had made a mistake, but it was too late to take it back. The seeds of anger were already sown, sprouting rapidly in her younger sister's expression.

"Why?" Lovette's question cut through the air, her tone tinged with hostility. She crossed her arms, challenging Maeve's statement.

"You know why," Maeve retorted, her voice filled with frustration. "You're pretending like nothing happened, like you're fine."

"I am fine," Lovette snapped back, her words sharp and combative.

"You haven't skated since it happened. You were going to go to the Olympics but you bailed on your last competition last minute—"

The abrupt scrape of the chair against the floor silenced Maeve, the sound echoing through the room.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Lovette dismissed, her voice carrying a mix of defiance and hurt, as she swiftly walked out of the kitchen.

Maeve sighed heavily, her heart heavy with concern and disappointment. She watched her sister's retreating figure, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. It was clear that the wounds from the accident ran deep, and Lovette's resistance to confront them only added to the strain between them. As Maeve remained in the kitchen, the silence enveloped her, a stark reminder of the challenges they would need to face as a family.

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Lovette sat on her balcony, enveloped in a mix of resignation and reluctance. A soft knock on her bedroom door echoed through the silence, but she made no move to answer. It was clear who stood on the other side, and she knew they would enter her room regardless. With a heavy sigh, Lovette listened as the footsteps drew nearer, finally settling beside her.

"I know why you don't want to go to therapy," her older sister's voice broke the quietude, gentle and understanding.

Lovette chose to remain silent, her gaze fixed on the captivating view beyond her room.

"You're smart. We both know that," Maeve spoke softly, choosing her words with care. "I've seen you solve complicated math problems as if it was basic addition. You're a natural problem solver, always have been. But this... this is something you can't solve alone, and I know that frustrates you."

Uncomfortably shifting beside her, Lovette's eyes darted between the captivating scenery and her sister.

"You deserve to be happy, Love. Stop punishing yourself," Maeve's urgency resonated in her voice. "Your breakfast is still on the table. I know you're still hungry," she added softly before turning to leave the room.

Left alone on the balcony, Lovette let the weight of her sister's words settle upon her. Instead of contemplating the choices ahead, she set her sights on finishing her breakfast. Descending the stairs, she spotted Levi in the kitchen, loading up the dishwasher. Navigating around him, she uncovered her breakfast, still covered in plastic wrap. As Levi completed his task, he joined her at the table.

Levi possessed an intrinsic ability to read his sister like an open book, a perk of being a twin. It was clear to him that her mood still carried a trace of sourness.

"Tomorrow will be better," he stated with conviction.

Lovette's eyes met his, a flicker of confusion spreading across her face. "You don't know that," she responded, her attention returning to her plate.

Levi shrugged, a hint of determination in his voice. "You're right, I don't. But just keep telling yourself that it will be. Hold on to the belief that tomorrow can be better. There will come a point where it becomes true."

"When did you get so philosophical?" Lovette asks, a touch of humor seeping into her tone as she cut into her French toast.

"I read it in a book, sort of stuck with me," Levi sighed, his voice carrying a note of vulnerability."I know what I say doesn't matter, 'cause you can do whatever you want. But I think you should see Dr. Florence. I don't want to lose anyone else, especially not you."

Lovette froze, her gaze fixated on the marble island. Guilt coursed through her veins as she recognized the incident Levi alluded to. It wasn't that he favored her over Maeve, but rather the memory of the month after their parents' passing when she went M.I.A. for a day. No responses to calls or texts, leaving Levi terrified as he spent hours searching for her with their group of friends.

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The slam of the car door momentarily pulls Lovette's attention away from the memorial set up by the roadside where her parents lost their lives. With an emotionless gaze, she looks in the direction of the sound, witnessing her brother's hurried steps toward her. She knows she should have messaged him, but the thought alone seemed insurmountable. Instead, she chose to shut off her phone. Lovette turns back around, her eyes fixating on the flowers and cross that mark her parents' memorial. She hears Levi cautiously settling down beside her, but before he can utter a word, she beats him to it.

"I've been running through red lights lately," she states, her voice devoid of any emotion. Her words hang in the air as her eyes remain fixed on the road.

Levi's brow furrows. "Why?" he asks, his concern evident.

Lovette doesn't respond immediately, continuing her train of thought. "I've never been hit. Not once," she pauses, her voice trembling, "It's not fair."

"Lovette," Levi's tone grows serious, "what do you mean by 'not fair'?"

"How can I willingly put my life in danger and live, while Mom and Dad weren't doing anything wrong and now they're dead? How is that fair?"

"Lovette—" Levi begins, his voice filled with empathy.

"It's not fair that I get to live and they don't. It's my fault," Lovette's words strain as she fights back tears, her gaze filled with guilt. "I know you think that too."

Levi's immediate response is filled with urgency. "It's not your fault," he quickly refutes. "They were the ones who always picked you up from practice. It was the asshole who decided to drink and drive. That's where the blame lies. Not with you. It was never your fault."

Lovette's body is overcome by wrenching sobs, her tears flowing uncontrollably. She futilely tries to wipe them away, but they continue to cascade down her cheeks, relentless in their display of grief. Since the accident, a lingering belief has haunted her— that her brother hates her. Levi's withdrawal and reclusive behavior have intensified her self-imposed guilt. She knows he has been traumatized too, but their experiences have manifested in distinct ways, further deepening the divide between them.

Levi reaches out and gently pulls Lovette into his arms, embracing her tightly. "I don't blame you, Lovette," he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity.

Lovette clings to her brother, finding comfort in his embrace. At that moment, she realizes that despite the pain and guilt, they have each other to lean on.

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Uncertain of what to expect, Lovette finds herself seated in Dr. Florence's well-appointed office. Taking in the tasteful decor, she notices the array of diplomas adorning the walls and framed photographs of what she assumes are the therapist's loved ones. The session has already begun, but Lovette remains resolute in her decision to remain silent. Attending these appointments might appease her sister, but she hasn't made any promises to Maeve beyond that. It has been a long and awkward 30 minutes of stifling silence. However, Dr. Florence remains undeterred. She has encountered uncooperative patients before and possesses various strategies to handle such situations.

"I understand that you've had a rough year," Dr. Florence begins, her voice exuding a calming demeanour.

Lovette scoffs, her voice tinged with frustration. "I get it, my parents died—can we talk about something else now?"

Dr. Florence tilts her head slightly, genuinely curious. "And what would you like to discuss, Lovette?"

Her unexpected question catches Lovette off guard. Normally, whenever someone broaches the topic of her parents, they persist despite Lovette's attempts to steer away from it. Their relentless pursuit often leaves her feeling exasperated. However, Dr. Florence's diversion from the expected path feels surprisingly refreshing.

Lovette shrugs, her gaze drifting away from her therapist. "I don't know," she responds noncommittally, "maybe the weather?"

A small smile plays on Dr. Florence's lips. "It is quite hot today. I heard there's a chance of rain tomorrow."

Lovette regards Dr. Florence with a perplexed expression. "You're not going to tell me therapy is a slow process? Tell me my problems aren't going to melt away? You're supposed to tell me that the journey will be uncomfortable, not engage in small talk about the weather."

"You knew all of that already," Dr. Florence says softly, her voice filled with gentle resolve. "You're attempting to be dismissive, hoping that I'll yield and refer you to another therapist. The cycle continues until you're labelled 'difficult to work with,' and no therapist wants to take you on."

Lovette is taken aback by Dr. Florence's astute observation. The truth in her words reverberates within Lovette's mind, causing a momentary pause in her defensive stance.

Dr. Florence's gaze lingers on Lovette, recognizing the underlying misconceptions she holds regarding grief. The way Lovette speaks about her parents' death makes it abundantly clear to the perceptive therapist that there is a fundamental misunderstanding at play.

"You have a misconception of grief, Lovette," Dr. Florence gently states, her tone laden with empathy.

"Excuse me?" Lovette retorts bitterly, her guarded facade momentarily cracking.

"The price of love is grief. And it is not something you can simply shed. Grief doesn't just leave you one day, no matter how desperately you wish it would."

"Why not?" Lovette challenges, her voice tinged with frustration and a yearning for closure.

Dr. Florence takes a moment to gather her thoughts, choosing her words carefully before responding. "It's akin to carrying the weight of something," she begins, her voice steady and calm. "At first, it feels immensely heavy, nearly unbearable. But as time passes, you gradually become accustomed to its presence. It becomes a part of your life, woven into the fabric of your being. Some days, the weight may feel lighter, and you can navigate through with relative ease. Other days, it may bear down upon you, making each step feel arduous. But it remains a part of who you are, and acknowledging its presence is crucial to your healing."

Lovette purses her lips, a mix of emotions swirling within her. The idea that she must carry this weight of grief indefinitely unsettles her, leaving her feeling uneasy. The thought of its perpetual presence looming over her no matter what she does weighs heavily on her heart.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Lovette asks urgently, a tinge of desperation seeping into her words.

Dr. Florence meets Lovette's gaze with gentle reassurance. "You heal," she responds calmly, "and you hold onto hope that things will eventually get better."

"Hope," Lovette repeats, the word leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She struggles to reconcile the concept of hope with the profound loss she has endured. "Hope is stupid," she exclaims, her voice tinged with anguish. "How can I have hope when my parents are dead?"

Dr. Florence's eyes soften, understanding the depth of Lovette's pain. She chooses her next words carefully, hoping to offer a glimmer of solace amidst the darkness. "Emily Dickinson, one of my favourite poets, wrote a line that resonates with me," she begins, sensing Lovette's confusion. "She said, 'Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.'"

Dr. Florence pauses, allowing the weight of the words to sink in. "Emily Dickinson doesn't claim that we never stop hearing the song of hope," she continues, her voice filled with compassion. "Rather, she suggests that it keeps playing, even in our darkest moments. I understand that you feel as if hope has abandoned you, but the song of hope is still singing, even if you can't hear it right now."

Lovette's mind swirls with a mixture of emotions, her heart clinging to Dr. Florence's words as her session comes to an end. The idea that hope may persist, even in the depths of her grief, lingers in her thoughts. As she walks to her car, the weight of those closing words remains with her, stirring a newfound curiosity and longing within her wounded soul. Her train of thought is temporarily interrupted when she feels her phone vibrate in her hands.

NEW MESSAGE FROM XXX-XXX-XXX!

XXX-XXX-XXX:

Hey its Chris from the airport

God I hope that didn't sound lame [MESSAGE ERASED]

LOVETTE HAS CHANGED XXX-XXX-XXX's CONTACT TO CHRIS

Lovette:

hey chris!

how are you?

chris:

I'm good

I was actually wondering if you'd want to hang out

I can be your tour guide

Jesus that's so fucking corny [MESSAGE ERASED]

Lovette:

yeah I'd really like that

are you free this week?

chris:

I'm free tomorrow if you're down

Lovette:

Yeah that works for me

I'm about to drive home but I'll text you more when I get home

chris:

Text me when you get home so I know you're safe

Lovette:

yeah ofc

chris:

Drive safe!

LOVETTE LIKED THIS MESSAGE!

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

hiii

as you can tell if you've read forward/slash, lovie will have a lot more writing than social media

but i hoped you liked this chapter because i love writing therapy scenes

dr.florence's dialogue is heavily inspired by both karan brar's interview with the cameron boyce foundation and one of hank green's tiktoks!!

until next time <3