Sweet as Honey

④: Bishop's Lace

Jotaro had scheduled an appointment for the therapist the next day; and just as outlined in the call he made, he found himself outside of a tall yet unremarkable brick building at three o'clock sharp. It was the fancy kind, that required people to be buzzed in and such, and for a moment Jotaro thought he had the wrong place. Swallowing his anxiety, for the time being, Jotaro texted his therapist and sat on the steps to wait for him to arrive.

He didn't have to wait for long, however. Not even five minutes after he sent the text, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. A man with a shoulder-length bob of black hair stood behind him, his smile warm and his hand outstretched. His eyes were a kind and striking blue, commandeering trust with a gaze alone.

"Hello. You must be Jotaro, right? I'm your therapist. You can call me Buccellati. Sorry if I've been keeping you waiting for long." his voice was surprisingly light and airy, but with a firm tone; almost like a teacher. "How are you feeling today?"

"Could be better." Jotaro shook his hand and stood, adjusting his coat and the like accordingly. "Kinda got lost."

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that, Jotaro. Why don't you come inside and tell me more?"

Jotaro nodded and followed him inside. They walked through a series of corridors, the twists and turns making his head spin. All the while, he was taking note of his therapist's generally calm attitude. Usually, demeanors like that seem fake to him (and usually his instincts were right), but there was something about the man that just relaxed the spirit. He actually wanted to open up to him. Buccellati wasn't phony, or out for his money; he was genuinely trying to help, and although he wouldn't be quick to admit it, Jotaro was extremely grateful for him.

"You said you got lost, right?" Buccellati chirped, stopping in front of a plain white door. "Was it my directions? I hope I didn't cause you any trouble. "

"No, no, it wasn't you. I was just unsure since this place doesn't really look like a shrink's office." he shrugged. "Wasn't sure I was even where I was supposed to be."

"A lot of people say that. If you don't mind me asking, what were you expecting, Jotaro? I'm just curious."

"Um... More white walls and hospital stuff, I guess? Maybe one of those funky looking couches."

"I see, I see. Well, I think you'll find my office to be a bit more comfortable than that."

Buccellati pushed open the door with a smile, prompting Jotaro into the most comfortable room he had ever seen. The walls were painted a warm coffee colored brown, and almost every inch of the room was filled with squishy cushions and the most comfortable chairs imaginable. The only thing inside that suggested it was the office of a therapist was the desk with too-high stacks of paperwork and the affirming posters that were scattered about on the wall.

"Wow. I..." Jotaro stepped inside and glanced around more, trying to drink in every detail he could. "You weren't kidding."

"I'm glad you like it." his therapist shut the door behind him. "Have a seat. There are some things we have to take care of before we start our session."

As Buccellati talked about the many release forms and other such nonsense that he had to sign, Jotaro took a moment to reflect. How long did he plan on attending these sessions? Was he going to accept medication? Did he even need help, to begin with? Why was he here? All these questions floated in his mind, and the more paperwork he signed, the more unsure he became.

"Jotaro? You signed in the wrong place, here. Are you alright?" Buccellati pointed to the spot and gave a sympathetic glance.

"Yeah, yeah. Just... thinking. I'm fine." he bit his lip and scratched out the mistake a little too hard, tearing a hole in the paper. Jotaro's hands shook as he looked at the rip, and his mind began to race as it always does before an onslaught of panic. What would he do now? This is what he gets for not paying attention. Buccellati would surely brand him a lost cause after this. Noriaki was wasting his time. There was no helping him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't. He couldn't do anything.