Benji had done his research when it came to choosing a psychologist before settling on Dr. Jagvir Singh, a younger, out gay man specializing in helping LGBT+ youth. The office was down by the river in Chelsea, about twenty minutes away from his flat, and Benji was happy to have an excuse to get out, even if it was to catch the few rays of sunlight that would be gone by 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

He put in his headphones as he stepped out the door and into the chilly mid-winter air, pressing "shuffle" because he was in the mood to be surprised. Pocketing his phone in his black overcoat, he then wrapped his maroon scarf around his neck, burying his face in the soft fabric to hide from the wind, teeth chattering. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, too, to keep them warm as he walked. The waiting feeling seemed a bit lighter today.

I'm always ready for a war again
Go down that road again
It's all the same

As Benji walked, he rolled another cigarette, shielding it with his hand as he lit it up. He knew he should stop; he'd resolved to do so, at least. One more wouldn't make a difference. Tomorrow he could start weaning himself off. But for now, he needed to settle his nerves. He pushed the thoughts of Victor aside once again.

Tell me who's gon' save me from myself
When this life is all I know
Tell me who's gon' save me from this hell
Without you, I'm all alone

I fight the world, I fight you, I fight myself
I fight God, just tell me how many burdens left
I fight pain and hurricanes, today I wept
I'm tryna fight back tears, flood on my doorsteps

Sighing, Benji continued his journey, checking the directions on his phone as he finished up his cigarette. When he finished, he glanced around before rolling up one of his sleeves and putting it out on himself, biting his lip so he wouldn't draw attention to himself. He rolled down his sleeve and continued walking.

Soon he arrived at Dr. Singh's office, sitting down in one of the waiting room chairs, his leg tapping against the floor on beat with the music coming through his earbuds.

"Benjamin Campbell?" came a voice, shocking him from his solitude. He removed his earbuds and stood up.

In the doorway stood a tall, lanky man looking to be in his late twenties wearing an open black blazer over a white turtleneck, fitted black trousers and white leather sneakers. He wore thick-rimmed, round glasses and a smooth black turban. His beard was trimmed neatly, the curly tips of his mustache curling up further when he smiled. He greeted Benji with a warm handshake and a "y'alright?" as he ushered him inside, motioning for him to sit on the couch.

Glancing around, Benji took a breath. It didn't look as scary as he thought it would. There were plants on the windowsill and around the office, along with colorful succulents that added some color and a peaceful ambiance. Benji also took note of a few framed paintings of trees and water hanging on the walls, as well as a small photo of Dr. Singh embracing a man he assumed to be his partner with mountains in the background set on his desk, which, for some reason, surprised him. He couldn't help but smile, his mind almost instantly set at ease that he was in good hands. But he also couldn't stop the pang in his gut as the green demon reared its head. He wanted that type of relationship, for himself, too. Dr. Singh watched him intently, giving him a chance to get comfortable before continuing.

"So, Benjamin. Why are you here?" Dr. Singh asked, his tone casual and surprisingly direct for an Englishman.

Rubbing his chin, Benji tried to think of a way to go about answering the question without being too overwhelming, but he realized there was no way to do that.

"Please, call me Benji. I spoke with my GP about taking some SSRIs, escitalopram in particular, but I wanted to talk to someone because I know medication alone isn't gonna be the solution," Benji said before he hesitated in adding, "and I've been trying to get over my boyfriend dumping me a few months ago and it's not going well. I... need help, especially with the... self-harming bit."

Dr. Singh raised his eyebrows, scribbling something down on his notepad. He said gently: "All right, Benji. Can I see?"

Benji removed his jacket and set it aside before he pulled up his sleeve, looking away as his face reddened. "I have a lot more on my hip, too. We went on a trip and I didn't want anyone to see them and ask questions."

"Yeah, I understand," Dr. Singh replied with a soft sigh as he wrote a few more notes before he rolled up his own sleeve and showed Benji what he meant. Despite his darker complexion and the time that had passed, the darker splotches still shone even if they had grown faint. "I used to do that, too, actually, which explains why I'm not super reactive to this sort of thing. It's concerning, but I get it. I'm not going to get into it now because we're talking about you here, though."

Benji's mouth hung open. He didn't expect that. Clearing his throat, he continued, recounting the details of his previous suicide attempt and how it led to him coming out ot his family for context. Dr. Singh was easy to talk to, giving Benji his undivided attention and occasionally writing something down in his notepad.

"I also use Xanax to help me sleep," Benji added sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "I got a year's prescription of it back home, and I'm trying to cut down but it's... not going so great. I don't really know what I'm doing. When I tried tapering, it didn't really work."

"Excuse my language, but who the fuck prescribed you Xanax? And even worse, who filled a prescription for that much of it? That seems incredibly negligent. I swear those bloody American doctors give that rubbish away too easily..." Dr. Singh said, smacking himself in the forehead, and Benji couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I can't prescribe you any medication but I can recommend getting on diazepam instead and then tapering that instead. I can chat to your doctor later. But also, my job isn't to be your parent or an authority figure. You're not going to succeed here if you think too much about pleasing me."

"Oh, thanks... I guess this brings me to kinda the crux of why I'm here. I was doing fine until my boyfriend dumped me following a relapse. He took the choice away from me and I felt like I was being... abandoned ," Benji said, his tone changing, the bitterness in his voice still present despite the time that had passed.

"What happened leading up to that?"

"So basically, this was on Halloween. My boyfriend got into an accident and I panicked. He was fine, but when I first heard the news, I had to face the fact that I might lose him, and I guess I wanted to join him. His best friend called me and I... I took five shots while on a really high dose of Xanax and ended up in the hospital. I... guess I don't know what to do with myself when I'm alone. Like, truly alone, with no attachments. I feel really dependent on him, and I wouldn't have even come to England if he hadn't encouraged me," Benji explained.

"Why do you think that is?" Dr. Singh ventured, writing a note down quickly before returning his gaze to him.

"What do you mean?"

"Actually... hold on. Let's go back even further... We'll come back to this, obviously. But I want to know... what's your relationship like with your father?"

Benji raised an eyebrow. "Uh... it's fine, I guess. We aren't terribly close ever since I came out. But it's not like we're... estranged."

Dr. Singh nodded, taking some more notes. "Could you elaborate? 'It's fine' isn't a good answer; it doesn't tell me anything useful."

"I... don't talk to him much anymore. He's away for work a lot of times and I usually have other priorities, so our paths don't cross frequently. But when we're together for like, holidays and such, we're cordial. At least he's still in my life where it counts," Benji recounted.

"It doesn't sound like you're happy about that," Dr. Singh observed, adjusting his glasses.

"Well, it could be better. Ever since I came out, he seemed like he's been... avoiding me. I don't know if it's intentional or not, but that's the vibe I get. I've gotten used to it, I guess. I stopped trying to reach out to him."

"You talk a lot about what things are like after you came out, and I'm really curious to explore that, but first I want you to tell me more about what your relationship with your dad was like before that. I'm really fascinated."

Suddenly feeling very scrutinized, Benji gripped at his knees, nails digging into his trousers. He looked at the floor. "We actually had a good relationship. Like, genuinely good. He'd take me and my siblings on bike rides and road trips into the mountains, and we would go hiking and he would actually... talk to me. And ask me how I was doing. Maybe not in those exact words, but he would ask me about school, if there were any... girls I was seeing. He could accept that I wasn't into stereotypically... masculine stuff, and instead was passionate about art and music and such. But when there were girls in the picture, things were fine. He would talk to me a lot about that, actually, now that I think about it. Maybe it was just his way of like, reassuring himself that I was... normal ."

"Interesting..." Dr. Singh said, pursing his lips. "I'm gonna say this now because even though I imagine you've heard it before, and you seem mature and well-adjusted enough to have internalized it, you are normal. Being gay is something that's prevalent through basically all living species. And not to cause a fuss or anything, but it's also not your fault that your dad basically tried his best to disappear from your life. You're his kid, the responsibility for retaining contact and open communication is on him, not you."

He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear that until Dr. Singh passed him the box of tissues and he took one, dabbing at the stray tear that had managed to break through his defenses.

"Thank you," Benji muttered, trying to collect himself.

"That's what I'm here for," Dr. Singh replied. "And I'm not gonna go too much into my personal life, as I said before, but I will say I empathize with you. Being gay is enough of a pain in the ass, and then our families often contribute even more to the psychological damage homophobia can inflict upon us. So, I'm glad you're here, talking about this. I hope it's helpful, because ultimately, that's the goal."

Benji gave Dr. Singh a small smile, grateful to have someone listen and understand him despite the fact that he was paying him to. He did seem to genuinely be concerned for his well-being and kind of reminded him of his older brother. "It's good to talk to someone who gets it."

"Right? Sometimes I wish I'd had a cool gay psychotherapist growing up, too," Dr. Singh replied, before he continued more seriously. "Now, the reason for this exercise, that is, examining your relationships with your parents, especially your father, is that often our familial relationships impact how we behave in our romantic and sexual relationships. If your attachment with one of your parents isn't secure, it can mean that you'll seek out romantic partners who might exhibit similar patterns. Of course, as with anything, this isn't an exact science, and it's a spectrum. Not all gay men will have problems with their relationships with their parents, but some do. And in this case, I think some of the feelings and behaviors you're currently experiencing are related to that. Does that make sense?"

Nodding, Benji tapped his chin. "I get that."

"Now, if I'm going to get more evidence to support this hypothesis, I'm going to need more information. You mentioned your ex-boyfriend and some girlfriends, but did you have any other partners before your most recent ex?"

Sighing despite knowing that he would come up eventually, Benji closed his eyes. "Yeah, I had a boyfriend. Derek. But I dumped him for Victor, who was honestly a saint in comparison."

"Tell me about Derek."

"To put it lightly, he was a massive dickhead," Benji said frankly. "He's three years older than me and was in college when we started dating, which, looking back, is super creepy. I'm not sure if it was just him being pretentious or what, but made me feel bad for a lot of things that I liked, and I felt like I had to keep things sorta on the down-low so he wouldn't make fun of me. Plus, he would always expect me to do what he wanted, and I eventually just started doing things to appease him. It got to the point where what I wanted didn't really matter; it was really just about keeping him happy."

Pausing, Benji took a sip of water as he looked down at his hands.

"It didn't help that he was there for me after my suicide attempt and... paid a lot of attention to me. I felt like I... owed him a relationship. For sticking with me. After I came out at school, he was the only one who talked to me for a few months," Benji continued, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He hadn't thought about this in years. "But he would never say anything kind about me. I don't know if I idealized him, or didn't think I deserved someone better, but I kinda... figured that was how relationships were meant to be. At least, the gay ones. But eventually, I met Victor, and I felt like I started to see the light."

Taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose, Dr. Singh hummed. "It's so frustrating how similar our stories are. Especially with the dearth of out and available gay suitors, these sorts of predatory relationships are too common. But I also know how isolating the whole situation can be. A lot of this is validating my earlier thoughts, but I also want to hear more about Victor, and why you decided to be with him over Derek."

Benji recounted the night of the Spring Fling years ago, his eyes welling with tears. Dr. Singh listened closely, resting his chin on his hand as he took in what he said.

"I'd never met someone who made me feel as... free... as Victor did," Benji recalled, smiling fondly as he remembered the way Victor would look at him as if his heart was in his eyes, and the voice he reserved just for speaking to him, soft, melodic, and sweet. "Even when he did little things like buy me a coffee or flowers, or even if he saw a cool rock when he was walking in the park and wanted to show me, he did things to show me that he was thinking about me. I didn't have to beg him to do the things that I wanted or to get him to care about the things that I like. He just... did. And it always felt genuine. He took care of me, and I could just be myself around him and be vulnerable, without worrying that he would judge me."

"You seem to talk a lot about what Victor did for you," Dr. Singh noted, making eye contact with Benji. "Why do you think that is?"

Tilting his head to the side, Benji frowned. "I... don't know. Is that bad?"

"Don't worry if you can't answer the question, you're not getting a grade or anything. I just want you to think about it. Because ultimately, relationships aren't about what your partner can do for you. Of course being kind to each other and respecting each other are prerequisites. But I suppose if you're used to a relationship where your partner does fuck-all with regards to your emotional well-being, it would make sense to focus on that when a new and potentially better partner comes along," Dr. Singh explained, stroking his beard. "Relationships aren't only about what you can do for each other, but as you've observed, how they make you feel , and whether you sustain those mutual positive feelings through healthy and open communication. Obviously, they aren't always going to be easy or free of problems. But it's your job to mold and shape them with your partner, because otherwise, you just end up using them."

Biting his lip, Benji nodded. He thought about the message he had gotten from Victor with a bit more clarity.

"I hope I'm not too much of an... anomaly to be fixed," Benji said with a sigh.

"You definitely aren't an anomaly, and you definitely aren't broken. Just struggling. And you aren't alone, either. But I feel like we covered a lot of ground today, so we'll stop here for now. We went a little over-time, but that's okay; don't worry about it. My next patient is late, anyway," Dr. Singh acknowledged, flipping through the several pages of notes he'd collected.

Benji checked the clock on his phone and sure enough, it was 3:10. The time seemed to have flown by. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you next week?"

Dr. Singh rose to shake his hand again, leading him out of his office. "Next week I'd like to hear more about your relationship with your mom and the rest of your family. But for now I have some homework for you, though, before you go, since it's pretty urgent. With the self-harm issue, I want you to try and stop that. I know that it feels good, I've been there. But don't do it. Find something else to do with your hands. When the urge strikes you, go draw or write some music instead. If you absolutely must, you can draw on yourself. But I don't want to see anything new next time, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Benji replied with a wave. "Bye."