The Journal

Hello again you lovely people!

Thank for the great feedback on my previous story, here is the sequel! It doesn't do so well as a standalone so I strongly recommend reading The Circus first (if you haven't already).

I've put the entire thing up in one go again so feel free to grab a beverage of your choosing and settle in for a slight darker tale this time (oooooh~)

Same old same old with characterisation being the real focus of this story, so hold out for the sexy times. This story deals with a few mental health issues which I don't really have any personal experience of so their portrayal is entirely fictional and possibly unrealistic (who knows?)

I did work hard on this so please don't steal it :(

Please enjoy!

D xx

Chapter one

Before his brother could even enter the room, Jason Turner was already shaking his head at the huge manilla folder the man carried. "Oh yes, this is happening," Alexander answered Jason's silent refusal, dumping the folder on the desk Jason was sat behind.

"No thank you, I don't wish to embark on any self harm today," he eyed up the folder with disgust, it's excessive contents pouring onto the desk.

"You're the only one left Jace," Alexander folded his arms.

"Fuck no," Jason folded his arms right back, "I don't do crazies," he gave the folder a push. Alex sighed, calmly shutting the door before striding back over and slamming his hands down on the desk, "okay how about this," he wore the smug look he always wore when he knew he would win an argument. "You do three sessions with Price and I don't tell Mum that I caught you shagging Mr. Richards in the Tranquility room." Shit, he's got me there. Jason groaned, grabbed the manilla folder and rearranged its contents, Alexander gave a smug look of victory before sitting down and answering a bunch of messages on his phone. "If you're going to have a Tranquility room don't make it the perfect place for sex," Jason grumbled. Since starting the business, his brother had made several additions including the lockable, soundproof, padded Tranquility room.

Speak Out had been just a concept when Alex had first decided to become a counsellor, now, five years on, the company had contracts with charities all over London as well as with local police and government. What had been a few counsellors dealing with troubled kids was now a huge glass building staffing over two hundred people, including Jason. Whilst Jason only worked there on a casual basis, his brother had kindly given him an office and a small amount of authority, he also kindly gave him the most difficult clients. At some point Alex had decided that since Jason was gay, he was somehow a specialist in all things gay, meaning he spent his free time comforting the local closeted teens that they would be fine blah blah blah. His approach wasn't the best and his people skills were lacking but somehow he got pretty good feedback. Price, however, was one client he was not willing to take on. The man had been on their books for eons and since the new year, had obviously decided to get full time counselling once and for all. In less than a fortnight, two counsellors and a psychologist had seen Mr. Price, all three of which never wished to see him again, even Alex was at the end of his tether.

Jason didn't even look at the file, knowing the mess it contained, instead he opened his desk drawer, pulling out a bag of crisps and munching them loudly, loving the way Alex's face twitched in annoyance. Finally looking up from his phone Alex snapped, "do you have to do that now?"

"Do what?" Jason took an especially large bite, knowing Alex hated the sounds of eating.

"You know what," his brother stood to leave, "are you a child? You're twenty nine and eating crisps at," Alex checked his watch, "six thirty at night."

"Didn't get any lunch," Jason shrugged, his Scottish accent catching on a few of the words.

"Well, eat those quickly," Alex swung the door open, "your appointment is in twelve minutes."

"With Price?" Jason sat up straight, causing crumbs to fly everywhere, "you fucking set me up."

"I did not," Alex's squeaky clean good looks were as infuriating as ever, "you're my gay counsellor, Mr. Price is gay. It's totally in your field."

"He's also a fucking lunatic!" Jason yelled after his brother as the man waved goodbye. Cursing even more, Jason stood, downing the rest of his snack before tidying himself up. He was still in his work suit and therefore far too overdressed for the so called 'vibe' at Speak Out. Eventually he stripped himself of his tie, rolling up his shirt sleeves and making sure he had no crumbs in the stubble that never seemed to leave his face. A glance in the mirror told him he looked rough, he liked to think of it a rugged but rough it was. He'd been flat out at work, them coming to the business whenever he had the time. His brown hair was a little too long and his double crown made it as messy as ever. Under his now-dull blue eyes hung large bags which required the kind of sleep he wasn't sure when he would get in order to be eliminated. He looked paler than ever, even for a Scotsman, and his stubble was more 'hobo' than 'hipster'.

Sighing, Jason cleared his desk as best he could, slapping on some deodorant and placing the manilla folder to one side. He grabbed his notebook and pen as well as the paperwork it seemed no one the staff could get Mr. Price to fill out. He was just finishing a last minute fresh mint when there was a knock at the door. Hoorah. He's here. Jason tried not to let his shoulders slump too much as he opened the door, his fake smile plastered on his face. "Mr. Price," he welcomed in the small man on the other side of the door. Albert Price certainly didn't look his thirty two years, in fact, he barely looked legal in the most worrying of ways. He had shockingly pale white blonde hair which fell over his face, it was rather long, but so fine it did nothing to cover the jagged scar which ran across the man's left temple. He was short, Jason wasn't a particularly tall man but Mr. Price was shorter than even many women. He was on the thin side, not enough to worry Jason but enough to see the spider's web of veins under that pale skin. He had a nice face, a pretty face, smooth lips and sharp cheeks, his eyes were almond shaped and a deep honey colour. He was, in a couple of words, rather lovely. But not your type....right? Of course not, Jason had a rather specific type, usual taking joy in deflowering homophobic footballers and the like. His like his men muscular and stupid, and Albert Price looked to be neither of those.

Jason led his new client to the seating area in his office, deciding the desk seemed to formal, he offered coffee but only received a shake of the head. They sat opposite each other, Jason lounging, in the most professional way he could, on the sofa, whilst Mr. Price sat in the huge leather armchair which practically swallowed him up. "So," Jason set up his notebook and paperwork, "Mr. Price-,"

"Bertie kay?" the man's voice was odd and hard to understand, it was high pitched and almost childlike.

"You'd prefer Bertie?" Jason asked, his confirmation was a nod of the head.

"Please," Bertie's eyes shone, his tongue never seemed to stop moving, sliding about his mouth like a snake, Jason's cock twitched a little at that. Down boy, he's a nutter.

"Right then, Bertie, we just need to ask you a few questions okay? I know you've come here before but as it's been a while..." he drifted off, expecting some kind of response but instead just finding his new client eyeing him up with lust. Jason frowned, don't come here for a fuck, not when there's people who actually need help. "You get that Albert?" he said, a little too sarcastically. That seemed to snap Bertie out of whatever daze he was in, a second of anger flashing over his features before he schooled them back into a mask of stupidity and carelessness. "Yup," his voice was a little hard but he covered it up by gathering in his legs on the chair. Jason stopped himself from rolling his eyes, he didn't need to look in that folder to know that Bertie Price had had some messed up life, just like every other guy he counselled.

Unlike the others, Bertie had some medical notes in his file, something about a brain injury, the scar was obvious enough but already, Jason had his doubts. He asked the generic questions he was supposed to ask, mostly getting one word answers, but all the time he eyed up his new client. The act was good, very good in fact, so rarely did it slip. However, there were moments, milliseconds even, where the sweet, sexual exterior faulted and the very adult and very present emotions were barely contained. Those eyes, when not purposely glazed over, had a hardness of intelligence and power. His long, thin fingers, which danced along his arms, occasional tapped with impatience. "Okay," Jason said, after half an hour had passed, "I think that's enough for today. When did you want to come back in?" he got up of the sofa, heading over to the huge appointment calendar on his wall. He was oddly excited to get Bertie back in the chair, some of the questions he had asked the man weren't even on the list, but he had enjoyed provoking him, seeing that tailored mask slip just a few times.

"Hey mister," that childish voice called from across the room.

"Yes Bertie?" Jason had to stop himself from humming as he found a pen.

Suddenly, a small, pale hand slipped around Jason's waist, dainty little fingers dancing over his crotch, Jason was abruptly aware that his arrogance had reached all the way to his cock, which was half hard. "Mister," that high, posh voice came again, "pitiful people like me really get you hard huh?" the fingers were at Jason's fly now. People like him? What? Master manipulators? Taking a moment to calm himself, Jason pried those little fingers off his crotch, turning around only to catch another one of those fleeting microexpressions, anger, disappointment, annoyance. "Sorry Albert," he liked how Bertie flinched at that, "I wouldn't want to cross any professional boundaries. You understand?" he ruffled the man's hair as if he were but a child. Anger again, oh this is fun. Bertie did an exaggerated pout before reaching up and planting a kiss of Jason's cheek, "next time hm?" he slurred again, pointing at the gap on the calendar for the following day at seven in the evening.

Bertie sashayed out the office, a wave of his hand the only sign he was leaving. Jason shut the door behind him, groaning that their next encounter would be so soon. He was painfully aware that he was still semi erect, the thrill of messing with Albert Price was messing with his head. Fuck, did I really get hard because of him? Was what he said true? Jason paced his office, he felt sorry for his clients, of course he did, but he also had seduced a few of them, unethical as it was. Was he aroused by it? By Bertie Price's pathetic face? He worried at the man's accuracy. Jason had always had issues, largely of the anger variety, but they hadn't bothered him since he was a teenager. Yeah and thanks to two years of anger management. Was he turned on by Albert fucking Price? He paced faster, suddenly wanting to break something. He's not your type, he's not your fucking type. Jason growled, lashing out and sending papers flying all over the floor, he hadn't felt like this in years. You don't even like twinks, you like muscle boys you can tease and-

Shit.

That had been exactly what Bertie had spoken about. Jason did love it, loved the high of grabbing a man's pride and crushing it under his foot, loved seducing a straight man into begging for his cock, loved taking a little broken bird and showing them how hard he could 'fix' them. Sometimes they complained, said he was too rough, wished he would be kinder, sweeter, gentler, but the pleasure was always immense. I do not get turned on by pitiful people. Even as he thought the words he kicked over his office chair in frustration. All the while he had been watching and analyzing Bertie Price, the man had been doing the same to him. Jason pictured him now, that small, pale man, on his knees, begging for release, tied up, screaming his na-

No. No. No. That's exactly what he wants.

Jason straightened his back, calmly tidying his office and neatly printing Bertie's name in his calendar. He locked up his office and even agreed to have dinner with Alex and his wife Lucy. As Jason sat, twirling great lumps of spaghetti onto his fork his mind raced, he would see Bertie tomorrow and he would be ready. Oh Bertie Price, you have made an enemy today.

Chapter two

Jason could barely hide his relief when he got a call from work the following morning saying they'd overstaffed and he didn't need to come in. He snuggled back down into bed, finally getting the sleep he so desperately needed before having a long shower, shaving and dressing in some jeans and a blue button up shirt. He spent rather too long making himself an over the top full English breakfast, devouring it with lashings of coffee and the morning news. In the early afternoon, he decided to go for a haircut, managing to get a last minute booking at a place he knew was okay. Jason's phone buzzed twice as he sat on the tube,

Alex: Can you come in early today? Danny wants to see you, won't talk to us

Jason quickly replied in the affirmative, Danny was what one would lightly refer to as a 'troubled teen'. The boy's dad was in prison for some shitstorm of fraud and underworld stuff and his mother was a little drippy and useless to say the least. Jason had started seeing Danny a few months ago and the two got on well, Danny was even trying enroll in a bricklaying course. The second message was from Jason's mother,

Mum: laddie, what's the plan for your birthday? Also what do you want? Nothing illegal or expensive, love Mum xxxxx

Jason sighed, his mother was yet to realise not only that she didn't have to sign off every text, but also that Jason hadn't had a birthday celebration in years and his thirtieth was unlikely to be any different. Whilst a busty Welsh woman cut his hair, Jason finally replied,

You: hey mum, no plans, maybe Alex will do something with the kids? A card is fine, maybe some new shoes for work? Ask mama, she always thinks of good gifts xx

Alex's birthday was only two days after Jason's. The boy's had two mothers, both of whom had managed to get pregnant within hours of each other using the turkey baster method and two good male friends. Mum, was Jason's mother, a rather round Scottish woman in her early fifties who was also a very successful psychologist, now working at Speak Out. Mama, referred to Alexander's birth mother Sophia, a tall and rather angular half Italian beauty who was a little older and a senior psychiatrist also now working for her son. Keeping it in the family. Jason had been born almost three days before Alex and although they were in no way related, the two were brothers. Annoyingly, Alex was the spit of his mother, tall, lean and swarthy with his years of hockey giving him a strong body. It was a sad comparison to Jason's lean and pale form, preferring the company of books to the hockey field.

After twice getting distracted, once by a juice bar and once by a bakery, Jason finally made it home, full and happy. One look in the mirror told him he looked better than he had in weeks. His still somewhat youthful face recovering well after just one good night of sleep, his hair cut into an acceptable style, the hairdresser and even shaving some bits so that the floppy brown locks sat in position far better than before. He pottered around the house, tidying as he went, before eventually emptying his work bag of it's contents. The first thing to fall out was a large manilla folder with Bertie's name on it. Jason gave into temptation, spreading the paperwork all over the floor and taking in as much as he could.

He read the medical records first, wincing at the five admissions following suicide attempts, the notes on Bertie's brain injury were vague and filled out by a very junior doctor, frowning, Jason gathered a few, photographing them and sending them to his good friend Aoife. The counselling notes were hopeless, either illegible or just stating that the patient did not wish to speak. The police notes were interesting to say the least, it seemed Bertie had been investigated for something rather serious but huge chunks of paperwork were missing. The final thing in the folder was a journal, Jason recognised his brother's scrawl on a post it note on the front, it seemed over the course of Bertie's visits, Jason's brother had suggested Bertie write things down to best understand them. Jason wondered whether this was before or after Bertie had shunned Alex as his counsellor. Sighing, Jason made himself a cup of coffee and opened the journal, there were less than ten entries altogether, none of which were dated or timed, just sporadic paragraphs dotted over various pages. Jason flipped to the first one,

Alex says I should write in this so that I can sort everything out that's in my head. Sometimes, there's just so many things in there I can't make sense of them all. When I try to separate them they start going fuzzy and it hurts.

It ended there, the line of the pen simply drifting off the page. The handwriting was awful, Jason knew Bertie had seen his brother not long after the accident, it had been a court order at the time, this meant the first entry must have been over three years ago, Jason jotted in his notes. He flipped to the next entry, seeing a slight improvement in the handwriting,

The nurse keeps telling me it's going to be okay. I don't agree.

Jason flinched a little at that, the words were practically carved into the paper, the rage behind them evident. He found the next entry,

Bitch keeps telling me it will all work out in the end. Doesn't she know I want to die?

I want to die.

I want to die.

I want to die.

The same line filled the entire page, Jason almost recoiled, this wasn't stuff he was familiar with, a shiver went down his spine but he forced himself to continue. The next entry was about halfway through the journal, it was far more legible than it's predecessors and was rather long.

Right, I'm going to try this again. My name is Bertie Price, my father is Albert Price and my mother was Elizabeth Price. My mother was a lovely woman. My father in a cu- the word was scribbled out - my father is not a good man, especially as he's a vicar. My mother is dead.

My mother is dead.

My father married a stupid woman called Jane. Jane is a - another word was scribbled out - she is not a good woman. Jane's son is...was...called Adam.

Adam is dead.

I meet a nice man named Tom today, he runs some show and he said I could work for him. He reminds me of Adam. But Adam is dead.

It finished there, Jason swallowed, worried that he was so invested in this disturbing tale, he hopped up and made more coffee before settling back and reading the fifth entry,

Tom's really nice, he says I can make all the clothes I want and him and the others will wear them. I'm so happy I met him. He doesn't want to have sex with me, but it's okay, because there are others who do. I feel so happy when they want me, all I have to do is close my eyes and pretend it's Adam.

Father is angry I left my other job, it's not like I could go back after what happened.