After a messy, family-dividing divorce with her now ex-husband, Lynne notices a change in her son's behavior. Outgoing and friendly as a child, Richard is now quieter, always anxious, and has buried himself deep within his books; befriending fiction...
a/n: let's all just collectively agree to disregard the fact that it's taken me centuries to post another chapter 🥰
i suggest you go back and reread the last few chapters because even i forgot what was happening
also this is roughly 4,000 words and i could not be bothered to proof read so yeah
⚠️WARNING⚠️ — mentions of mental health topics (anxiety), unethical medicinal practices, and indirect mentions of physical abuse 😬 — viewer discretion advised
good luck 🍀 && happy reading 🧸💫
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GIVE UP THE FANTASY (a hsmtmts au ) • chapter seven || revelation roulette • word count: 4722
" we never really talked much or even looked at each other, but it didn't matter because we were looking at the same sky together, which is maybe even more intimate than eye contact anyway. i mean, anybody can look at you. it's quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see."
[ john green ]
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THE EYES OF the painting followed Ricky down the corridor. He was supposed to be at his first therapy session a little over three minutes ago, but couldn't seem to find room A427. The hallways were endless spirals, a labyrinth of uncertainty.
His ribs were a barricade, heart pounding like a desperate prisoner as his new friends' warnings echoed through his hollow head: No hallway roamers.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, carefully examining each door as he quickened his pace.
"Left, Ricky. Go left."
"Gina?" Ricky whispered, stopping in his tracks, observing his surroundings, "Gina, are you in my head right now?"
He heard her playful, mischievous laughter. "It's all in your head, Ricky."
Ricky shuddered a breath before following her directions. Sure enough, just around the corner stood room A427, MAZZARA imprinted in the golden plaque.
"Thanks, Gi."
She laughed again, bright voice bouncing off the sides of Ricky's head. "Good luck."
Once her voice had vanished, Ricky hesitantly twisted the brass knob, only for the door to swing right open.
"Ah, Mr. Bowen!" Mazzara beamed, papers flapping as he flailed his arms out to welcome Ricky, "There you are, so glad you could make it. Here, have a seat."
