Bsd Angst Oneshots

Lucy Maud Montgomery - Our Love is like a Flower Petal

(17k Words)

Diff au - Gender neutral

Tw: death/death of a loved one, trauma, burned alive, mental illnesses, phychosis, murder, car crash, scars, drug use/drug addiction/overdose, detailed therapy session

Song recommendation: Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo / 505 by Antarctic Monkeys

Location / Date: your choice / 2010s

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

"Mom? What is going on? "

"Stay away, Y/N! "

"Lucy! Take my hand! Lucy! "

"I-I cannot. . . Leave, Y/N! "

"Just a little bit more. . . I swear my last one. . . "

"You fucking idiot. . . "

"Wait! Hear me out first! "

"I don't want to listen to- "

The events played and replayed in my head causing me headaches. I was anxious, so anxious that I could even see my heart beating on my chest. My vision was blurry, but I had to make it up the stairs. After all it was my first session. I needed help as soon as possible.

I walked inside the apartment with the leather suitcase on my hands and the secretary greeted me. I took a seat on the big couch along the other patients and I waited quietly for my name to be called. "Y/N L/N, you can proceed to the room now." the secreraty said as I saw the previous patient leaving.

"Good evening, Y/N L/N. Take a seat please." the psychiatrist said as he fixed his coat and sat down on his chair with his legs crossed. It was a young man with such a petite figure and a porceline-like face. I didn't respond and after I placed my suitcase next to me, I sat down on the empty chair facing him. "My name is Tatsuhiko Shibusawa and from now on I'll be your psychiatrist. So how about we start with a couple of questions, shall we? " he asked, but received again no answer from me. Clearing his throat and giving a quick look at me, he took a blog on his hands and with a pen on between his fingers, he continued. "I see you brought a suitcase with you. You came here straight from work? "

"Yes. I work as a lawyer so I'm pretty busy. I didn't have much time to go back home before coming here." and with every one of my answers, he looked at me dead in my eyes and wrote down on his notebook.

"I see. Not having much time for yourself then. . . Does that cause you any stress? Maybe anxiety? "

"I think it causes me the right amount of stress that every job should cause."

"Then what else seems to be the problem? What's the reason behind your visit? "

"A girl. . ."

"A lover? A friend? "

"Let's say an acquaintance of mine."