H: it's not so bad
You just go in and talk about yourself

T: I know, but I'm still nervous. What if I do something wrong, or it turns out I'm mad?

H: you're not
Believe me
You are very sane
You just need someone to talk to
Besides, she's very nice
And dad is paying for it

T: That's not it. I guess I'm just really worried.

H: Afraid someone is going to dig into your mind
Pull up all the bad things?

T: Yes.

H: That's why you have to go
Otherwise it will stay in your head
It's not nice
But you can't keep holding it in
Just talk to her
Maybe it'll go better than you think

T: Okay. I'll try.

H: Whatever happens
I'm still there for you babe ♡

Tristan was unable to hold back a smile, despite the nerves that were stirring in his gut. He sat on a plastic chair in the waiting room, that he shared with an elderly couple who were both enthralled in one of the out of date magazines provided. If anything he was glad he had Hibiki to talk to while waiting, since the texts distracted him some.

T: You mean that, right?

H: Of course
Why wouldn't I?

T: I don't know. I guess I'm not used to it.

H: You're stuck with me now
No going back
If you kiss it you have to keep it (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

T: But you kissed me?

H: And I'm keeping you
All to myself

T: Well, I think I'm fine with that?

H: Don't worry
I'm a responsible owner

T: Okay, less fine with that. But I guess it could be worse.

H: You get to sleep on the bed?

T: Oh boy! I love the bed.
It's so much better than the floor.
Do I get my own bowl too?

H: You may have to share with Maki

T: How about I stay a human and use a plate?

H: Do I get to take care of you?

T: If you want?

H: Can I pet you?

T: Depends on the mood I'm in.

H: Okay, I'll allow it

He was in the middle of holding back a chuckle, when a short, somewhat chubby woman wearing a brightly coloured sweater, and with her blonde hair in a ponytail entered the waiting room.

"Mister Wright?" She called out chipperly, even if there were only two people to whom the name could apply.

Tristan immediately closed his phone, and stood up. Despite his nerves, he tried to hide it behind a smile and a handshake.

"I'm Lindsay, or Dr. Vanhulst." She introduced herself enthusiastically.

"Tristan." He responded polite but far more restrained.

"Well then, come along. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee?"

"Ehm, tea please?" He answered as he was led into a fairly large office.

"You can put your coat on the rack, and take a seat, I'll be right back with your tea." She gestured towards a padded chair before the desk in the centre of the room. Before he even fully had the time to take it all in, she'd already left him.

In the moment of quiet, he hung up his grey woollen coat and walked towards the chair while looking around the office. It was a rather cozy place. The walls were decorated with a light, flowery wallpaper that wasn't unpleasant, and several certificates and artsy black and white pictures hung on one wall. A large bookcase on the other wall was filled with clinical books on psychology, and several large binders marked with years. The room was well lit by two large, tall windows that looked out onto a lane flanked by trees.

Despite all that, he didn't feel comfortable. Instead a feeling of dread gnawed at him while he sunk down into the chair. He looked down at the desk, trying to ignore the sense that this all had become far too real – too close to pretend nothing was wrong. With a hard bite on his lip he tried to push through. It's going to be fine… it'll make me feel better.

In the middle of his pondering, the door opened again. A bit startled he looked up, forcing a smile on his face as he saw the psychologist had returned with a small tray of coffee and tea, and a few biscuits.

"Well then, I'll start with explaining what we're going to do today." She said with a smile, as she took the cup of warm water and set it in front of him. "This is just an intake, to get to know one another, so there won't be any real psychological stuff just yet. I'm going to take notes, but don't worry, that's just for me to put in the system for later sessions. Do you have any questions for me before we begin?"

He thought about it for a second, but then shook his head.

"Then how about you tell me a bit about yourself? Who are you, what do you do, and if you could why you're here?"

He used the tea as an opportunity to not answer just yet, and instead thought about what to say while picking a flavour of tea from the tray. He settled on a simple black tea.

"Er, I'm Tristan Wright. I'm twenty years old and I study at Oxford. I'm in the debate union, and I volunteer for the Greens sometimes?" His answer trailed into a question, unsure if that was the answer she was looking for.

"That's quite impressive. What do you study?"

"Politics, Philosophy and Economics. I'd like to be a politician, or maybe an activist?" Lately he hadn't been so sure which one he'd prefer, but he knew that he wanted to do something good regardless.

"Want to change the world?" The woman asked with a smile, and he nodded in response. "That's quite a big task, isn't it?"

"Yes but… someone has to try?"

"Do you like it?"

He nodded again, a bit more certain of himself.

"I do, it makes me feel like I'm doing something important."

"That's always nice, isn't it?" She asked over a sip of her coffee, and he smiled timidly in response. "What about your home situation? Are you from Oxford?"

"No, I'm from Manchester. Well, Manchester and Sheffield, but I've lived in Manchester for most of my life."

"Was it a big change, moving from there to here?"

"Somewhat, but I don't mind. I'm fine living here."

"That's good. Could you tell me a little bit about your parents? Or your family in general?"

"My mom lives in Manchester, and my dad in Sheffield. They divorced when I was seven. I have a sister, Anya, who lives with my mum, and my dad has two children with his new wife, Jack and Jane."

"That seems like a complicated situation. How is your relationship with your parents?"

"It's fine. I don't see them that often, but that's it." My mom beat me senseless.

He swallowed slightly and smiled, feeling the nerves writhe in his chest again. In an attempt to ease them, he took his glass with both hands and took a sip of the strong, rather bitter tea.

"And it's not troubling you?"

"No, I'm going to see both of them again for Christmas." But I'm scared something will go wrong.

"And do you like your siblings? Are you close to them?"

"I'm very close to Anya, I grew up with her." I took care of her.

"You aren't as close to your dad's children?"

"I like Jack and Jane, but they're younger. So they're closer to one another." I think my dad replaced me with them.

Somehow he felt nauseous. He wanted to blame it on the tea, yet at the same time took a large swig trying to convince his lunch to stay down.

"And what about here? Did you make any friends?"

He nodded, the thought of his friends allowing him to feel a little bit more at ease. For a brief moment he remembered the conversation he had with Killian and Sam in the hospital – reminding him why he was here in the first place.

"I did, they're my debating team." For a moment he hesitated, staring into his glass. "And there's Hibiki." Despite all his worries he smiled slightly.

"You two are very close, aren't you?" She smiled widely at him, and he realised that undoubtedly Hibiki had talked to her as well – and probably said things about him.

"We're er,-" For a second he had wanted to correct her and admit they were dating, but he didn't know if Hibiki had told her. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally say too much. "Yes, we're very close. We talk a lot, I guess we can relate a little."

"It's always great to have a friend you can talk to. Are your other friends supportive as well?"

"They're there for me," he nodded. "I know I can rely on them, and I think they rely on me as well." – so I shouldn't fuck things up and hurt them.

"Okay, is there anything else you'd like to share?"

I don't belong here and I'm in way over my head. I'm a burden. I can't do anything right. How am I ever supposed to help anyone? I'm a faggot. If God exists I'm going to hell – and I deserve it.

"No, I think that's most of it."

The psychologist scribbled down a few last things on her notepad, then laid down her pen and smiled at him. He forced a smile back, hoping that she didn't realise it was all fake and wouldn't ask further.