“So, how is life with you two at the moment?”
Ah. The familiarity of Dr Hallet's little office. It's been nine months since myself and Mark first joined this 'buddy-system'. Nine very eventful months by anybody's standard.
It's not been easy. It really hasn't. But we've come a long way from the people that we started out to be. I distinctly remember sitting with him on this settee for the first time. Determined to remain as closed off from him as possible. Wanting nothing more than to rip out his throat and feed it to the stray dogs you find in the corner of a dark alley. And I'm pretty damn sure that he felt exactly the same way...
But look at us now. The gap that was between us that first day has now been closed as I sit hand-in-hand with him. The coldness that emanated from two stone-faced idiots has been replaced with warm smiles and childish giggling. The stubborn act of ignoring the help from our counsellor is...well that's actually the same. It's just that before, we didn't want the help. Now we do. We just don't feel like listening today.
Mark keeps giggling randomly, for no apparently reason. I don't even know if he's genuinely found something amusing to start with, or if he just wanted to try and send me into my own fit of giggles. Which, of course, has worked. Every time he even glances at me, I can't help but start up again. And the snowball effect begins as he then laughs harder. It's a vicious circle...
“Stop it!” I squeak through my giggles, smacking him hard in the chest.
“I didn't do anything!” he laughs in response.
“Yes you did! You're here! That's bad enough!”
“Shall I just go away then?” As he goes to move, I scramble onto his lap. Clutching his shirt manically as the slightest bit of panic runs through my head at the idea of him getting up and going.
“No, no, no, no!” I giggle, feeling his hands cover mine as he smirks up at me.
“And why not, hmm?”
“Because you're in a session.”
Hallet's voice is slightly on edge as she answers before I can. Our ignoring has clearly wound her up the wrong way. I guess we should really start behaving now. I see Mark bite his lip to try and hide his smile, but it doesn't work. I squeeze my own lips together to try and stop the giggles, but again, that proves fruitless. As I huddle up against him, his arms snake around me followed by a tiny flutter of his lips on my forehead. And now we're trying to focus.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “What are we talking about?”
“How things are going for you.” Blunt. Oops.
“Good, yeah.”
“You're getting to know each other a lot more now then, are you?”
“I already know her. And she knows me. I don't know why you keep telling us that we don't know each other.”
It's true. The past few sessions have actually been quite exhausting. Dear Doc here seems to think that I know nothing about Mark. That's the furthest from the truth you could possibly get. I know he's a man. I know he used to have ginger hair. I know he has a sister called Sam. I know he likes action films but will tolerate soppy ones when it's my turn to choose. I know that he can cook Lasagne. I know he's Irish. And mostly, I know that he loves me. So, you know. What else does someone need to know about someone to know them?
“How often do you sit down and talk?”
“We talk all the time.”
“About what?”
