Chapter Text
Ten minutes into their next session, after Blitzø had bitched enough about his most recent annoyances, Dr. Smith decided to broach the subject. “Did you end up talking to Stolas about his bouquet?”
“Yeah, and I fucking nailed it!” he declared, his grin sharp and proud.
They smiled warmly at him. “That’s excellent news. Could you share how you fucking nailed it?”
“I just… followed the steps you gave me. Checked that you translated the flowers right, which of course you fucking did, you stupid smart asshole. Then, uh…” Blitzø paused as he tried to remember. “What's that big fucking word you use for like… saying that the other person's feelings make sense? Variegation or vivisection or something?”
“Validation.”
“Yeah, that. I validationed the shit out of him, and I told him that I felt the same, and that he can just tell me all that sentimental shit next time. With flowers if he wants to, but with words too.” His sharp grin widened. “I even asked The Hard Question!”
“Really?” They looked mildly but genuinely impressed, and Blitzø felt himself puff up with pride. “How did he respond?”
“Oh, y'know, he was embarrassed, afraid of fucking it up again, all that stuff. But I told him that if he's honest with me, I'll try to be cool about it, and believe him and stuff. And he kissed me, so… mission accomplished, I guess!”
“Indeed.” They were looking at him like they were proud of him, which was a little embarrassing but not totally unwelcome. “It truly does sound like you fucking nailed it.”
“Fuck yeah I did!” He smiled even wider, tried to ignore the dull anxiety beginning to gnaw at the edges of his pride.
But Dr. Smith didn't ignore it. “Is something wrong?”
Blitzø sighed heavily. “Should have fucking known you'd clock that.”
“We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” they reminded him gently. They often tried to remind him that just because they sensed one of his feelings didn't mean he had to talk about it.
“No, it's fine. It's just… we're so different, Doc. And when I think back to our deal, it makes my fucking skin crawl when I think of how fucking bad we were at getting each other. Not only were we never on the same page, we were never even in the same book. I mean, not the actual book, but like the… metaphor book.”
They grinned slightly and nodded. “I understand. The two of you thought you were communicating with each other, but because of your differences and your unspoken assumptions, you both left believing that two entirely different conversations had taken place. And given how consistently that happened, it makes sense that such a rift developed between you.”
He squinted at them slightly. “What's a rift?”
“A gap or separation,” they said simply. He liked that they always answered those sorts of questions straightforwardly, without making him feel stupid. “It originally referred to a huge crack in the ground separating two areas of land, but bad communication can separate people in a similar way.”
“Yeah.” Blitzø imagined Stolas on the other side of a rift, unable to make out a word he was saying, and his chest tightened. “I figured out what made him sad this time, but I had to talk to three other people and learn about fucking flower language to do it. How long until something happens where I just… can't understand him at all? Where no matter how hard I try, I just fuck it up and hurt him again? I love him, but I think about that and I just feel like we're…” He looked at the floor. “I don't know. Doomed, I guess.”
He didn't look up at them, but he knew they were studying him intently. “I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, Blitzø. I understand that the task of consistently understanding someone so different from you is a difficult and sometimes exhausting one. But I have seen how dedicated you are to doing it, and so has Stolas. And you are exceptionally capable and tenacious when you commit yourself to something. So I think you are up to the task for however long you are willing to put in the work it requires. And with time and practice from both of you, it will become easier.”
“I guess.”
After a few seconds of neither speaking, Dr. Smith cleared their throat. "You know... I don't normally do couples counseling, but... if you are interested, I think I might be able to help the two of you communicate. Without the need for flowers. Just… something to consider.”
Blitzø's head shot up. “ What? We're... we're like, BARELY even a couple, how the fuck would that work?”
The doctor blinked at him, looking mildly puzzled. “But he told you he loves you. And you just said that you love him.”
“So what?” Blitzø snapped. “Just because I love him and we're living together and he gives me flower secrets doesn't mean we're like... this big serious thing.”
The two of them stared at each other for a moment. When it became clear that that was the story Blitzø was sticking to, the doctor sighed slightly and answered. “Well, if the two of you decide you are ‘this big serious thing’ and are having... similar communication issues that you would like to address... well.”
They smiled knowingly at him. “I think I've done pretty well at helping you understand yourself. And I think I could extend that into helping you understand each other. Same copay, of course. I won't tell the insurance company if you don't.”
“...maybe,” Blitzø finally said, although he didn't feel particularly convinced. He didn't think they were the sort of couple that could be helped with counseling.
But it turned out, several months later, that Blitzø was an idiot, because they absolutely WERE that sort of couple.
He found that out while sitting in the doctor's office with Stolas, pointing accusingly at him in his much larger armchair. “And you never even apologized !” Blitzø shouted at Stolas, caught up in some rant about shit from their deal.
“I did!” Stolas insisted, puffing up the way he did when he was getting defensive.
“When?!”
“You accepted my purple hyacinths!”
Blitzø stared at him in absolute confusion until he thought of that first stack of purple flowers that he had put in a beer glass. “WHAT?!” he screeched. “THAT was your fucking APOLOGY?!”
“Stolas,” Dr. Smith calmly interrupted, saving them from this death spiral of a conversation. “Could we revisit the conclusion you reached in a previous session about this?”
Stolas pouted at them for a moment, then sighed. “Flowers shouldn't be a primary method of communication,” he muttered.
“Very good,” they said, and Stolas went from sullen to beaming in an instant. It was incredible how well Stolas responded to being told that he was doing a good job. “And what is the primary method of communication you identified?”
“Talking to people,” Stolas answered dutifully, looking put out by his own answer.
“Remember, it's just words,” the doctor said, smiling at him encouragingly. “You love words!”
Stolas rubbed absently at his forearms. “But these words are so... hard.”
“And that’s why I'm here. But I think you know the first word, right?”
Stolas gave them a tiny nod and turned toward Blitzø. “It's… ‘sorry’. I'm sorry, Blitzø.”
“For?” Dr. Smith prompted gently.
“For treating you like an object,” Stolas quickly added. “It wasn't intentional, nor was it how I felt, but I understand that's what I was doing.” Stolas took Blitzø's hand, looking at him in the softest, most sincere way. “Henceforth, I will do my utmost to make you feel as loved and cared for as I feel for you. Please tell me if I stop doing that, and I will rectify my behavior.”
Blitzø blinked a few times, then smiled. “Okay,” he said, squeezing his hand.
“Do you accept my apology, dearest?” he asked, as though Blitzø might actually say no.
“Of course I do, Stols,” he said, laughing a little. “Y'know, you really are good at words when you put your mind to it, pretty bird.”
Stolas let out a happy little trill. “Thank you, darling.”
“On that note, I am afraid we are out of time,” Dr. Smith said. “Stolas, can I expect you to accompany Blitzø for his first session next month?”
Stolas nodded excitedly. “We look forward to it, Doctor!”
Blitzø realized that Stolas was speaking for both of them, but he didn't mind. “Yeah, Doc,” he agreed quietly, giving Stolas a fond little smile. “I guess we do.”