Love with strings detached

Chapter 50

Daisy's P.O.V

I close my eyes and let my head rest back on Theos chest as he runs his hands around my torso, washing away the body wash we used. The showers here aren't really that big, they barely fit two people.

"Theo," I say, feeling him hum against my shoulder.

"When you said that you were left mentally damaged, what exactly does that intel? Did you visit a therapist?" I ask as I turn my head to the side to look at him, his hazel eyes already on me.

"I was diagnosed with depression at 13 years old," he says, gripping my boobs for a second.

"My grandma took me to a child psychiatrist and I was going for a year, she put me on antidepressants after a thorough evaluation," he says, rubbing his hands over my arms.

"My God," I whisper, looking down at the white tiles.

"Yeah, didn't really do much, they didn't make me feel good and I had a lot of side effects from them. I took them for a year but then after my grandma died, I stopped taking them," he says, brushing my hair away from my neck to lay a kiss there.

"Have you gotten back to therapy at all?" I ask, turning so I could look at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"No, I haven't taken on therapy again ever since then, don't need it," he says, clenching his jaw.

"Are you sure? I think it will be good to start going again, it could help you," I say, carefully watching him wet and bite his lip as he places his hands around my waist.

"You don't know that," he says.

"I don't but it could help you with your depression, see if you're doing better after so many years. It could also help you with your aggressiveness when you're angry," I say, watching him shake his head in denial.

He removes his hands from my waist and closes the water pushing my arms off him and exiting the shower.

"Theo," I call out to him softly, going after him.

He throws a towel at me as he picks up the other, patting himself dry before pulling his boxers on and a clean pair of joggers.

"Theo," I call out to him again as he puts a clean hoodie of his on the sink.

"Wear that," he says, pointing at it.

I start drying myself as I watch him take out a smaller bag out and push all of our wet clothes in.

"Are you going to ignore me for long or are you going to at least consider what I said," I say, wrapping the towel around my body.

"Talking to you helps," he says standing up, looking at me.

"And I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to be this open and vulnerable with me and I want you to continue to do that but-"

"But what?!" He interrupts me harshly, raising the tone of his voice a bit.

"But I'm not a therapist, I'm not a professional. Even though I want to I don't know how to help you, I'm not qualified for that. What if my advice makes things worse?" I say, trying to plead with him.

He stood still staring at me for a few seconds, I can see his tongue rubbing against the inside of his chin before he bends down and grabs his bag. Throwing the strap over his shoulder, he turns and storms out.

"Theo!" I yell his name, rushing after him until the bathroom door, still in only just the towel.

"Are you serious right now?" I yell, holding the towel tightly as my mouth hangs open.