Troubled Souls // 5SOS

XIX ∞ Reject

• Beth •

"I don't like going to therapy when he's not there."

As I pull into a red light, I glance over at Michael, who nods wordlessly. Usually, I don't mind Michael's silence, but it bothers me when I wish he would reply and he doesn't.

We just had our second therapy meeting without Luke and everything about it feels wrong. The one person who needs to be there most right now is sitting at home all alone, probably feeling lower than ever. As I drive Michael and myself back to my house, I can't push the feeling away.

"We can't just let him sit at home and feel like no one cares about him," I continue. "It's not fair, he deserves to know that he has people who care about him, he — "

"Beth, the light."

I'm confused by Michael's response at first, so I glance over at him and he points up at the stoplight in front of me, which had turned green at some point during my rant. I mutter a profanity and step on the gas just as the person behind me starts to get annoyed and honks their horn.

"I know how you feel, Beth, r-really I do," Michael finally replies, "but you can't get yourself as worked up about it as you have been. Y-You're just going to stress yourself out even more. We'll figure things out, alright?"

He reaches over and puts his hand on my knee, trying to reassure me. I know he has a point, but I can't get rid of this feeling that I'm doing something wrong.

"I'm just worried about him," I admit, keeping my eyes on the road.

"I know. Y-You're not the only one. We're going to help him, we just h-have to figure out how."

"Well, Sophie's certainly not helping anything. I wish she actually cared about Luke, then maybe she'd help us."

"S-She's just doing her job, Beth. Luke told her that he doesn't need therapy anymore a-and she can't force it on him. I-It's not that she doesn't care, but there's only so much she can do."

I nod in response, not really knowing what else to say. A few moments later, my house comes into view and I pull into the driveway as Michael removes his hand from my leg and leans back against his seat.

"We'll figure things out," he promises as he unbuckles his seatbelt. He reaches over and intertwines his fingers with mine as we head up the driveway and into the garage.

My mum is in the kitchen mixing something in a big ceramic bowl as we walk in. She glances up and smiles when she sees us. "Hey, guys," she greets. "How was therapy?"

"Oh, it was great, mum, we sat around and talked about our feelings and sang campfire songs while Michael played the banjo," I reply. My feelings towards therapy are a bit less than positive right now, obviously.

She turns her attention towards Michael and says teasingly, "You know, I'll never understand why you voluntarily hang out with her."

"Hey now, I'm a delight to be around," I reply sarcastically. Behind me, Michael chuckles to himself and I whip my head around to face him. "Don't encourage her."

My mother joins in with his laughter and I roll my eyes at the both of them, kicking off my sneakers and slumping down on the couch.

"W-What are you making, Ms. Marcott?" Michael asks, gesturing to the bowl she's holding in one arm.

"My friend's daughter just had a baby and I'm making some cookies to bring to them," she replies, turning on the oven and pulling a baking sheet out of the cupboard. "Will you guys be alright here if I go over to visit them? I'll only be gone for a few hours and then I can make some dinner when I get home."