The Kippens | Tyrus

Parents

Cyrus' POV

8 Years Ago

TJ paces the carpet of my room, while I sit cross-legged on my bed, watching him carefully. His anxiety is so prominent he practically glows with it, muting the red of my walls with a darkness that chokes the light out of the room. This is an example of one of the few times when I wish I wasn't so connected to him, for his fear stings my body, trapping my muscles in stiffness that I can't break. I rarely see him like this, but this is a situation he's never been in before—and it's one he's willingly putting himself in. He wants to come out to his parents. 

"Maybe this is a mistake," TJ says, making a complete one-eighty from where he previously was on this idea. "Amber hasn't told mom and dad. Maybe she has a good reason."

"Maybe," I say. 

"But I'm not her, right?"

"Right."

"And If I want to tell them, then I can. But how?"

"TJ," I say, interrupting his train of thought. "I know you, and I know that you can do anything if you believe you can. You are the bravest person I know."

TJ stops his pacing and just stands there in the middle of the room. However, his eyes wander around the space aimlessly like bumblebees.

"I'm scared," he utters, releasing a heavy breath with the words. 

At that, I undo my legs from their position and stand up off the bed. His hand stops shaking as soon as I touch it and take it in mine, and he looks me in the eye. 

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," I remind him. "Don't come out if you're not sure it's safe."

TJ takes his other hand and closes it over mine. Then he gives me a small smile.

"I'm gonna do it," he says. "Right now."

He drops my hand and starts toward my bedroom door, but my voice catches him on the way out, causing him to look back and listen to me say, "TJ." 

I keep my eyes firmly on his, letting my racing heartbeat drown out the sound of the subtle air blowing through the vents on the floor. 

"No matter what happens," I tell him, "I love you."

His face melts into a soft smile as he responds, "I love you too."

Then he leaves, not using enough force to close the door fully, so there's still a sliver of silent space between it and the doorframe. 

Present Day

After hearing the doorbell, I open up the door to meet my new patient with a smile. What I see is not unusual. A boy stands with his arms crossed, eyes down on the ground. His father has his hand on the boy's shoulder, and he extends his free one out to shake mine. 

"Hi," I say. The 13 year-old doesn't look at me, but his dad gives me a smile. "I'm Dr. Cyrus Kippen."

"Hi," the man says. "I'm Ron, and this is Jamie, my son."

Ron shakes Jamie's shoulder, and the boy gets the hint and drops his arms. 

"Hi," he mutters. 

"Okay, well," his dad huffs, "I'll leave him to you."

Ron gives his son a pat on his shoulder before stepping down the porch steps and back to his car, leaving Jamie standing outside alone. I know from experience that it often takes a while for the kids to warm up to me, so Jamie's hesitation is expected, but it still saddens me to see him so nervous.