James Buchanan Barnes Imagine book 2

Therapy

Laugh long and hard rn

(Story switches POV for you)

Therapy? Therapy??

There was no way I'm going to go, and if I did I'd escape like that.

I have no interest in therapy. Therapy can't help me nor do I want it too. It's a complete waste of time. Trusting some stranger to keep your darkest secrets, to believe they don't see you like everyone else, and that god damn notebook. I wish I could say I kept my own promise, but people have a way to force you into doing something you don't want to.

Which led me here.

"Y/n, you have to answer my questions if you want this to succeed."

I couldn't remember her name, much less care what is was, but I knew she expected more from me than I thought.

"No." It was simple, plain, and straight to the point, "I'm good, thanks."

"I wasn't asking." She eyed me.

"And I wasn't requesting." I shot back, glaring at her, "You're of no use to me if I told you things. So there's no need to start."

"You still have 20 minutes before it's over," She frowned, "Maybe if you just—"

"20 minutes of silence would be great." I cut her off with a sarcastic smile, "I'm getting this terrible migraine from a pitchy voice that to me, just seems so unbearable."

"I'm sorry this is hard for you," She sighed, sitting up straighter, "But this isn't something you can just walk away from. It's going to take time for you to trust me I understand, but your father decided it was best too— W-where are you going?"

I poked my head out from the other side of the door, smiling widely, "Walking away. Bye bye now."

My father. Of course he was the one behind this, of course he'd have this problem on his hands. No wonder I couldn't find him this morning. That lying, backstabbing, son of a b—

"Y/n?" Peter called out, standing near the limo, "Hey, what are you doing out here?"

I stopped abruptly, looking around and taking in my surroundings. When did I make it outside?

"Uh, Peter, hey." I awkwardly walked up to him, "How'd you find me? And why the hell are you even near here?"

"Uhm, 100% honest?" He asked, receiving a nod from me, "I was sent here by Mr. Stark to pick you up. I was just curious on why."

I rolled my eyes immediately at the name of my father, "He thinks I need therapy. . . because of. . . that thing."

"Oh, yeah. Okay, we'll then let's go somewhere fun. Y'know? Like, uhm—"

"Peter, it's fine. Please, just, drop it." I sighed heavily, walking to the other side of the car, "Happy, take me home please. I need to burn down my fathers tower by dawn."

Happy chuckled, nodding in confirmation, "Yes, ma'am. Let's move fast, Peter has homework."

"I finished it!"

___________________

Peter carried your backpack to the front door, making sure to stick close by you in case Bucky showed up anywhere. Him and Bucky have been, to say the least, battling it out. Bucky sees Peter as a distraction to your time with him, but you see Peter as peace to be a someone you haven't been in a while; your own person.

"And then what? She'll be caught on by then, Tony! She's barley 22 and has been having a tough time for a while, and your first thought is to send her away? What if she needed you? Needed your time?"