hypochondria // tate langdon

medical conditions.com

tate and i continued being friends after that almost traumatizing night. if anything, it made us closer. it's been a few days, but i still think about that night with tate. i want to make sure he's doing alright. of course, he is going to sessions with my dad, but is it enough?

i sat, chipping away my black fingernail polish, laptop in front of me.

i wanted to do some of my own research. i knew i couldn't ask my dad about tate. but then again, i was anxious about what i would find out.

i sighed harshly, opening my laptop and going to the search bar.

"what is the condition where you overly fear for someone's health"

...illness disorder...

...health anxiety...

...hypochondriac...

"what is a hypochondriac"

...obsession with the idea of having a serious but undiagnosed medical condition...

...symptoms include a long-term and intense fear of having a serious condition and worry that minor symptoms indicate something serious...

i let my posture rest again, somewhat relieved i found what condition tate had. until a thought crossed my mind. my hands hovered over the keys. the temptation of looking up my symptoms was so strong.

no, it's nothing. plus, the internet is known for over exaggerating.

i shut my laptop and slid my legs over the edge of my bed, standing up. i stopped in front of my mirror, looking at my appearance. i've been looking more tired and pale recently, i'm not sure why. maybe it's because i spend all the hours i should be sleeping, hanging out with tate.

whatever. i remembered my dad and tate had a session right now, so i figured i'd take a peek. i had to be more careful than last time. i stood off to the side, only where i could see tate, but still hear both him and my dad.

"so what do shrinks think about when a wildly brilliant patient doesn't talk to punish said psychiatrist?" tate asked my dad with a smile on his face.

"i bet you think about sex,"

so, this is what sessions are like...

"do you think about sex a lot?" i heard my dad ask tate.

tate poked his tongue to the inside of his cheek, taking a glance at me.

"i think about one girl, in particular, your daughter,"

i got nervous and started picking and my nail polish again, but couldn't help but bite back a smile as tate kept sneaking glances and smiles at me.

"i jerk off thinking about her...a lot,"

i heard my dad clear his throat, "i'm not comfortable with you talking about my daughter like that, tate," he said uncomfortably through gritted teeth.

"don't you wanna know what i do to her? how i lay her on the bed and caress her soft skin, make her purr like a little kitten,"

now tate's just fucking with him. but doesn't this prove that tate likes me more than friends? i was snapped out of my deep thoughts when tate spoke again, surprising me.

"she's a virgin, you know?" he chuckled, "they get wet so easily," he smiled as if he was reminiscing on so-called events. he is such an actor.

"alright, tate. i believe our session is over," my dad, forcefully closed a binder and stood up.

"is it?" tate asked, sarcastically.

"most definitely. i apologize, but i do feel like this is not appropriate,"

"oh. then i'll go talk to your daughter about this-"

"no, you need to leave. and if i see you with my daughter, we're going to have an issue,"

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author's note - happy thanksgiving people! sadly my thanksgiving break is coming to an end so updates will be slower because i have no more pre-written chapters. honestly already had a little writer's block writing this, but i did it! pretty short chapter, but i wanted to clarify a little bit of the last. also, i wanted to say thank you so so much for the views on this story, let's keep it going eek! that's all for today, hope y'all had a great thanksgiving!! :)

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