A Foreign Love Song (Jake Bateman x Johnnie Guilbert)

13: Johnnie

A/n: ^^^Yes, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I had to give him a cameo. He's Nikki fucking Sixx

I know I'd asked him to, but I didn't think that Jake would actually leave me. Within the hour after I'd told him to, he'd packed his bags and left the place like it was on fire. Honestly, that hurt a lot. At least I'd be rid of someone trying to solve my depression issues.

Just when I thought that, there was a knock on my door. Was he back already? I went to it and opened it, surprised to find a man with dark, crazy black hair and the looks of  lifelong rockstar. "I'm Dr. Sixx, Jake called," He told me. I tried to slam the door in his face, but he held it open. "He told me not to leave until you had a full hour's session, and not to let you do that. He also says he knows that you hate him, but he doesn't care." He looked around my house from his view at the front door. "Nice place you've got here."

"Are you here for the blood or the reasons why?" I asked sarcastically.

"I'm a therapist, and I know you know that," He replied patiently.

"So, doctor Sixx, what kind of experiments are you planning on running on me?" I crossed my arms, still not letting him in. 

Dr. Sixx looked at his watch. "I'm free for two hours because I figured you'd be stubborn," He mumbled, though I knew he was aware I could hear him. "Right now I'm running the 'experiment' of getting through your front door."

"I don't wanna talk to you."

"Then let's talk about me, shall we?" He put a hand over his heart, eyes still curious about me. "If you don't want to talk about you, I'll let you ask me all of the questions your heart desires for the whole session. But it can't officially start until you let me in."

"How do I know you're not lying to me? Therapists don't do house calls."

"And most therapists also aren't recovering addicts, who suffered from neglect and depression themselves." His face remained completely straight the whole time he said this. "But I'm giving you an exception because your friend seems extremely worried about you. If you'd like to come into my office sometime, I'd be more than happy to let you."

I sighed, knowing that he wasn't going away. I stepped aside, put my head down, and made sweeping gesture with my arm to tell him to come in. And he did, weird black boots with spikes all over them stomping on my floor as he did. His belts and jewelry jingled as he walked, and he wore his many tattoos with a sort of pride. This guy should be interesting. "I'm just supposed to ask you questions the whole time?"

"I'll leave this particular session unstructured. So yes, if you want to. Or I could ask you some things too."

"Great. What's your first name? And where did you get those boots?" I was still staring at them, little attention whores.

"Nikki, and uh," He looked at his boots, "I can't remember where I got these."

I shook my head, finally looking up at him. "What were you addicted to?" I ask quietly. 

"Coke, smack, alcohol," He counted off on his fingers. "I did so many things, it's hard to remember what exactly I was really addicted to, and what I just experimented with." He put a hand on my shoulder, "But seriously, don't do drugs, kid."

"Right, right." I nodded slowly. How was this guy even certified with a history like that?

"And then I wanna ask you a question." I glared at him, not wanting to answer. "Just wanna know your name." He held his hands up innocently at my menacing glare.

"Oh, Johnnie. Johnnie Guilbert." I waved my hand dismissively. 

"Right, then. Johnnie." He scratched his head, and it occurred to me in that moment that the both of us were standing in my front entrance, having not gone any further into the house this entire time. "Do you want to sit down somewhere?" He beats me to the question.

"Oh, sure. The living room is over here," I pointed to a small space consisting of a single couch and chair with a television in front of it. I led him over to the couch, where we both sat. 

"Jake told me a lot about you," Nikki started. "He told me that you were cutting, super depressed, and a little too clingy."

I looked down, not responding. 

"I'll take your silence as an agreement." 

"Jake only told you that stuff because he doesn't trust me," I mumbled. 

"I don't think so. Actually, the opposite." He shook his head.

"Really? I kinda had a date with him yesterday, he didn't even enjoy it, and then he abandoned me after he found that I'd cut. I was an idiot for even asking him. All I could think about was how stupid I was for asking him the whole time."

Nikki sat back in the couch and crossed his arms, a small smile playing on his lips. "Ah, hearts can be tricky like that. But I have some advice for you: make yourself attractive. Don't change! Never change for another person! But rather accentuate your best features. If he likes the best things about you, then he'll also learn to help you with the worst."

I thought for a long time. "That actually makes sense." 

"Mhm." Nikki closed his eyes, not looking at me while we sat in silence for a long time. I wondered if he wanted for me to bring something up. 

"What makes you think that Jake trusts me?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"The fact that he called me, telling me that he had a friend who really needed my help. If he didn't trust you, he'd have called someone else."

"Why?"

He leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. "I'm not exactly 'the best in the business.' I don't believe in the shitty cookie-cutter solutions that the whole industry says work. That's why I do house calls, and that's why I'm not making you talk about anything you don't want to."

"Wouldn't that make you better?"

"Goodness is all a matter of perspective, which is a damned shame." He looked at his watch. "We've still got a half an hour to kill." He tapped his finger tips together for a minute, looking like a cliché Disney villain while he thought. "You told me that you couldn't stop feeling like an idiot for asking Jake on a date, right?"

"Of course."

"Can you elaborate?"

"No."

Nikki sighed. "Alright. Do you have a blank journal or notebook or something somewhere?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Use that. For the next week, I want you to write anything that comes to mind in it. It could be absolute insanity, it could be three words. I don't care. Just write in it once a day, every day."

"How will that help?"

"It'll tell me what kind of insanity I'm working with." He closed his eyes, leaning back again. "And I know you're thinking that I can't handle yours, but I want to give it a shot."

"Why?"

"It's my job. And I want to help you."

"I know I need the help, but I don't want it. I don't think Jake gets that, or you," I grumble.

"At least you know you have a problem." He didn't open his eyes as he spoke. This guy was a total weirdo. "That's the first step to solving it."

Oh, but there's still such a long way to go.