"Honestly, my darling, they're so good at what they do."

Levi moves his arm subtly to his side, allowing his hand to grasp at George's in reassurance. George feels this touch; and, in turn, he closes his fingers around his partner's. George glances up at the posters on the walls in front of him; they're full of advertisements for various private healthcare services and treatments. His eyes flit to one in particular, which showcases private therapy and how it is able to change one's life. He hopes with all his heart, that it will have this affect on him.

"They'll be calling me in, in a moment," George announces quietly. He wouldn't admit it, but he is incredibly nervous for his first therapy session — of course, he knows that the entire idea is to receive the help he requires; however, despite this, he knows he must also divulge the deep feelings he has kept locked away for weeks; months; years; decades, in order to receive said help.

"And I'll be waiting right out here for you," Levi answers him, squeezing George's hand once to accompany his statement. "I can sense you're nervous. But really, they're so kind. If they weren't, I'd tell you. I know some therapists don't suit everyone."

George is momentarily surprised that his husband can detect his anxiousness; but then the mild astonishment diminishes when he realises that Levi knows him inside out by this stage in their lives. Choosing to ignore this fact, he responds only to the latter sentence. "Well, how do I know that this therapist will be suited to me? Just because they're suited to you, doesn't meant they'll be suited to me ... right?"

"You and I are more similar than you think," Levi reminds him. "If I give something approval, then ninety-nine percent of the time, you'll give it approval too."

George's apprehensiveness is reduced, albeit negligibly, by Levi's words. "I suppose I'll find out in the next few minutes or so."

As if on cue, a mid-height woman — who looks to be in her mid-thirties — with tightly-curled hair and smart-casual attire approaches the waiting area from the corridor. "Mr ... " She glances down at her clipboard, to ensure she pronounces the name as accurately as she can. "Georgios ... Panayiotou-Jones?"

George snaps his head around to look at Levi. "Guess this is it."

"You'll be fine." Levi ushers George along with his hand playfully. "Good luck. I'll be right here."

George nods, before rising slowly from his seat to follow the lady. He enters the therapist's office full of curiosity; though, his nervousness overrides this. His mind runs wild with all the potential questions and the what-ifs.

Will this work out? Will she immediately ask about his mother's death? Will this therapist be a good match for him?

What if he can't bring himself to answer the questions she asks him? What if he breaks down during the session? What if she judges him for being homosexual? But she wouldn't do such a thing, surely?

"Take a seat, Mr Panayiotou-Jones." The inviting voice of the woman interrupts his many questions. She gestures to a chair to encourage George to sit down. "So," she continues, taking her own seat behind her desk. "This first session isn't going to be getting into the super deep stuff yet. It's more a case of getting to know you a little better, before anything else."

"Yes," George agrees, suddenly feeling extremely conscious of every word he says. "Um, go ahead with any questions."

"Alright." She averts her gaze to her notes. "So, you came here with your husband today — was that him in the waiting room?"

"Yes," George responds. "He was the one who prompted me to come here. He does therapy himself at this place."

"Yes; I've seen him around before," she adds. "By the way, before anything else, my name is Julie. I do apologise for not introducing myself sooner. I want you to feel comfortable with me; and I think in order to do that, one has to at least know the name of the person they're addressing."

"I suppose that's true," George acknowledges. "You can call me George. My real name is something of a mouthful even for the more skilled individuals."

"Greek, isn't it?" Julie asks.

"Yes." George gives a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with his jittery fingers. "My dad is Greek-Cypriot. My mum was English though."

"Was?" Julie picks up on George's phrasing. "Is she no longer with us?"

"That's right," George answers. "But I think that's something for another day, to be honest with you."

"Is that one of the reasons you've entered therapy, George?" Julie picks up a pen from her pen pot, clicking it to expose the ballpoint in preparation to jot down anything her patient says.

"Um, yes." George nods, as a means of supporting his answer. "It's kind of the main reason, really."

"I see." Julie's eyes move down to the page, writing down a note about George's mother. "So, how long ago was this loss, George?"

"Um, it's pretty recent actually," George replies. "Only a few weeks."

"Okay," she utters, looking back up at him. "So you mentioned that your mother's passing is the main reason you're in therapy. But does this mean there are other reasons, too?"

"Um, I suppose there is," George answers. "I-I suppose my sexuality is also to do with it. I mean, I'm happy with my husband, don't get me wrong. But in my past and at present, being gay has definitely come with its fair share of trauma."

"I can understand that," Julie says. "Of course, not to the full extent, because I'm not homosexual myself. What I'm trying to say is, I can understand why it would be difficult for you. Some people are just very unkind."

"You can say that again," George scoffs. He folds his arms across his chest, before sitting back against the chair. "I think I'd need a good few sessions just to talk about being gay and all the shit it's caused me." He then realises he has cursed, so he covers his mouth with his fingers for a brief moment. "Sorry — excuse my language."

"Don't worry." Julie chuckles at him. "I've heard plenty of worse things in this office, let me tell you." She finishes up the remaining notes she wishes to take, before giving her next question. "So, George — do you have any children?"

"Yes." Just this question alone brings an unconscious smile to George's face. "A son and a daughter. They're my whole world."

"Tell me a little more about them."

"My oldest is a girl. Her name is Gemma. She's eight years old — but she'll be nine before we know it. She's biologically Levi's, but of course I love her like my own. And then the youngest is a boy. His name is Kieran. He's biologically mine. He's seven. We had them a year apart."

"Sounds like it would have been a handful for you both; only being a year apart," Julie teases.

"Oh, trust me — it meant no sleep for so long," George laughs. "But it was so worth it. I'd wanted kids since the mid-eighties. You see, before I came out, I was with a woman. We're good friends now, but back then things were ... far from easy, you could say."

"Explain," Julie invites kindly.

"Well, her name is Stephanie. She's a couple of years younger than myself. We were together for just over two years. Before we broke up, she was pregnant. I'd been led to believe the entire time that he was mine. But it turned out, she'd had a one-night stand with another man — and it was actually his."

"I'd assume that believing this child was yours must have made you long for a child of your own?" Julie suggests.

"Yes." George furrows his brows, feeling a little dismayed at the recollection of such a difficult time. "I was so excited for him to be born. His name is Alexander — Alex, for short. I'd essentially chosen the name. I was ecstatic. But, um, the day I came out to Steph, she told me he wasn't my son."

"That would have been extremely hard to come to terms with, I would imagine."

"It was," George admits. "I didn't take it very well. I kicked her out of my home, and trashed the nursery we'd made together for him. I know I could have reacted better, perhaps, but ... I was freshly twenty-four at the time. My brain hadn't even fully developed at the time. And I was going through two breakups at once."

"Two breakups?" Julie raises an eyebrow, though not presenting as judgemental in any sense.

"Yeah, um," George starts to explain. "I wasn't exactly an angel back then. Because I wasn't out to anyone really yet, I was seeing my now-husband in secret. I was cheating. And I know that was wrong, but at the time I didn't know what else to do. I was scared I'd be hurt — or worse, killed — just for my sexuality."

"Did your husband know you were cheating with him?"

"Of course. He was actually the first person I came out to — by accident, though."

"So, how did that happen?" Julie interrogates playfully.

"Steph was out at a party one night. The phone rang late at night, so I assumed it was her. I'd been planning to tell her the truth about me being gay, so as soon as I picked up the phone I just blurted it out. Turns out, it was Levi. He'd called a wrong number and ended up calling me. That was the first time me and him ever spoke."

"So you met your husband over the phone, essentially?"

"Yes." George smiles as he recalls the fateful day back in 1986. "Considering it was the mid-eighties, that's not bad going really."

"It isn't," Julie agrees with a light giggle. "So, moving on to my next question — do you have much family, on either yours or your husband's side?"

"I have my dad still. And my sisters, Melanie and Yioda. And then there's my niece, Tee. On Levi's side, we have his mother, Penny. She's amazing too. I think of her as a second mother, to be honest. And I know Levi thinks the world of her, too."

"Is his father still in the picture?"

"Um, Levi's father died when he was pretty young. So he kind of understands my grief. Losing a parent is no joke," George divulges. "But I suppose it's different, losing a parent as a child compared to losing a parent as an adult."

"Of course, it certainly comes with its differences," Julie acknowledges. "But has your husband managed to get past the grief of losing his father? Or learnt to deal with it in a healthier way?"

"He's fine with it," George responds. "Or, as "fine" as a person can be with losing their dad. He mentions him periodically, but it was so many years ago now ... decades, even. He's learnt to live with it."

"Well, that's good," Julie praises. "So, would you say you deal with your grief over your mother in an unhealthy way?"

"Perhaps," George sugarcoats; for he knows that he most certainly does deal with it unhealthily. "I mean, it doesn't bring me much joy at the minute, you could say."

"I notice you use a lot of flippancy when you talk," Julie observes. "Have you always been like that?"

"I guess I have. Levi always says I self-deprecate a lot, too. It's just something that's ingrained into me now." He shrugs, as though it's only minor. "If you can't make fun of yourself, what hope have you got in life, hey?"

"Sometimes self-deprecation can manifest into a, sort of, self-fulfilling prophecy — in your mind, that is. You can start to internalise any self-deprecating thoughts you have, or any you voice out loud — which means you can slowly start to loathe yourself as a person," Julie clarifies. "Because if you say something enough, you can definitely start to believe it. And this can be very damaging, particularly if the statements you're making aren't true of yourself."

"That would have been useful to know about three decades ago," George jokes. "Or, perhaps when I was even younger than that."

"Would you say you have a low self-worth, George?"

George hesitates in his answer for a moment; deep down, he already knows the truth, but he doesn't want to confess it. He has gone through his entire life just accepting that he is a man with many flaws — whether this rings true, or not.

"W-Well," he stammers. "I-I guess I've always felt inferior to Levi. Or to, well, anybody who's a potential threat."

"What do you mean by this?"

"A couple of weeks ago, Levi had a man trying it on with him when we went down to London for the weekend," George elaborates. "This guy had no interest in me at all. Not that I wanted him to be interested in me, because it turned out that he threatened to kill Levi ... but you know what I mean. It just made me realise that Levi just has so much more appeal than I have."

"Is it how others perceive you compared to your husband, that worries you?"

"I guess so, yeah." George takes his lower lip into his mouth, biting on the suppleness to eradicate his urge to fidget.

"Would you say that your husband's opinion of you matters more than any other person's opinion of you?" Julie asks. "Other than your own opinion, of course."

"He's my husband," George reminds her, stating the obvious. "Of course his opinion matters to me more than anyone else's."

"And does your husband want to be with anybody else other than yourself?"

"Of course not," George asserts. "He's said it countless times."

"So, surely, that tells you that you shouldn't have such doubts about yourself," Julie points out. "If the person whose opinion matters most in the world, has an opinion that sheds a positive light on you, then who else do you need to impress, other than him and yourself?"

His amber irises move upwards in contemplation, until he realises that she's entirely correct. Truth be told, he has never thought of it in this sense before. He looks to her, nodding in approval of her words. "You're right. Maybe I need to work on my self-confidence."

"And that's why we're here," Julie states warmly. "And we can work together to help you overcome the negative perceptions you have of yourself. Of course, if there's anything that legitimately needs to be addressed, then we can work together on that, too." She finalises her short-hand writing, before popping her pen down. "Right. I think we've covered most bases for this session. In the next session, we'll start to discuss a little deeper."

"Great," George remarks sarcastically. "That's going to be fun."

"It's not going to be easy, George. But once it's out in the open, we can take the next steps to help you recover from your traumas." She rises from her seat, before making a beeline for the office door. "Thank you, for coming to see me today. I look forward to our next session."

"Thank you, for everything," George replies graciously, as he makes his way over to the door to leave. "See you soon."

"Goodbye, for now."

With the office door having been shut behind him on his way out, George presses his back to the large wooden surface, to try and process the conversation he has just had. Granted, it went better than he expected it to. But for a first session, he wasn't exactly expecting a deep, dark discussion about his life immediately, anyway. He just hopes that whatever comes up next will truly help him once and for all.

• • •

Chapter twenty-four! Hope you enjoyed. xx