Laughing Jack: How To Put A Jack In The Box Back In The Box (Laughing JackxOC)

Chapter 21: Therapy

"So, Dylan, the last we left off was discussing your relationship with your father. Have you tried reaching out like we talked about?" Dylan's therapist asked as she adjusted her red glasses on her face. The bright frames popped against her darker skin, a striking contrast that was hard to ignore. But it wasn't just the glasses; she wore so much red it made his eyes hurt. Red glasses, red lipstick, red nails, red shoes. Even the pen in her hand, poised to take notes on today's session, was a vivid shade of crimson. Not to mention the excess of jewelry. Dylan shifted in his seat, trying to focus on her words rather than the overwhelming color palette.

"I've tried. He still leaves me on voicemail. Like I've said every time, I don't really care to try and contact him," Dylan said, drumming his nails. He saw no point in reaching out to someone who had built a life for himself, abandoning Dylan in this small, pitiful town. He despised these sessions; they only reminded him that his father did the bare minimum. Dylan hadn't seen his father since he was ten, and that brief visit ended abruptly when one of his half-brothers broke an ankle. Naturally, that took precedence over Dylan's birthday, making them fly back to New York. Since then, he'd maybe get a card on the holidays.

"Well, I'm sure your dad is just a very busy man. Try to be patient with him," she said, jotting down notes. "On that note, have you tried any of the methods I recommended to ease your headaches?" she asked, looking at Dylan calmly.

"I have, but it doesn't make it go away—it makes it worse," he replied, feeling the headache intensify. Every session was the same: she'd ask him stupid questions, and he'd give the same answers. Or she'd try to 'fix' his relationship with his father, a relationship that hadn't existed in a long time. He hated these appointments, each second making him want to yell at her to shut up to leave him alone. That he didn't care about any of this, but doing that would only backfire on him. Making this session even worse was Laughing Jack, sitting in a nearby chair, struggling to stifle their laughter at Dylan's annoyance.

"Well, it might be like that for a while. I'm sure with time, your headaches will improve. Try at least two sessions of meditation a day—one in the morning and one at night, okay?" she said as the session wrapped up.

"I'll try," he said with a nod as he stood up, putting on his coat and scarf. He waved goodbye and walked to the door. Laughing Jack let out a sigh of relief as Dylan stepped out.

"About time! God, that woman was annoying," Laughing Jack said, following Dylan into the waiting room. He watched as Dylan put on his gloves, but Dylan ignored him, aware of the public setting.

As Dylan turned to walk out the door, he bumped into someone coming in, catching him off guard.

"M-my bad, sorry," a soft voice said, drawing Dylan's attention. He turned to see a boy around his age, maybe a year younger, standing before him. The boy looked frail, with pale skin and an almost ethereal appearance. His fingers were covered in band-aids, leaving only his nails visible, hinting at a delicate nature. He stood about shoulder height to Dylan, his face partially obscured by a curtain of dark hair.

Despite his overall fragile appearance, what caught Dylan's eye was the stuffed rabbit clutched tightly in the boy's hands. The rabbit looked worn and withered from years of being carried around, its fabric faded and frayed in places. Yet, its intricate design suggested it had been made with immense patience and care. Each stitch seemed to tell a story, and Dylan couldn't help but wonder about the effort and love that had gone into creating such a detailed toy. The boy's nervous demeanor and the soft apology tugged at something inside Dylan. For a moment, he forgot about his annoyance with the therapist and his lingering headache. "Of course, you run into someone even more pitiful," he thinks to himself, though Dylan kept a friendly demeanor. His thoughts are cut off by Laughing Jack's Voice and a hold on his shoulder.

"Let's get going, Dylan," Laughing Jack said, his tone unusually serious, which caught Dylan off guard. Laughing Jack typically acted and talked in a childish manner, so this change was unexpected. Nevertheless, Dylan decided to go along with it due to how tight they were holding his shoulder.

Dylan offered a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay," he said gently, stepping aside to let the boy pass. "No harm done." The boy nodded shyly and murmured another apology before continuing into the therapist's office. Dylan watched him go for a moment, the sight of the boy and his rabbit lingering in his mind as he finally turned and walked out the door, the cold air hitting his face as he stepped outside.

Stepping outside, Dylan felt the brisk bite of the winter air against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He took a deep breath, watching as his breath formed a misty cloud in front of him, a tangible reminder of the frigid temperatures. The snow, light and powdery, blanketed the ground in a soft white layer, transforming the landscape into a serene winter wonderland.

It was the only thing he knew he would miss when he eventually left this place behind. The way the snowflakes danced in the air, the crunch beneath his boots as he walked, the peaceful silence that enveloped the town. The cold air and the snow always put him at ease. As he feels his headache fade away as he's surrounded by the cold winter air.

Authors Note: 

Hi Guys sorry for the late updates I've been super busy with work and my senior shit for High School so I haven't had any idea's for this story. If you have any ideas feel free to comment them! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)