Even If It Hurts -H.S. AU

H -79

To: Vi
Be safe. I love you x

"Mr. Styles?" I close my phone when I hear my name and shove it back into my pocket.

I stand from my seat and walk past the woman standing with her office door open and she gives me a smile that I'm sure is supposed to be reassuring. The knot in my stomach twists when I see a relatively new leather couch against the wall with a chair placed perpendicular to it. It might be my first time here, but I'm positive where our assigned seats are.

I sit on the far side of the leather couch, and she immediately picks up a notepad when she sits. She's probably scribbling something about how I sat as far away from her as possible.

"Mr. Styles-" she starts, but I cut her off.

"Harry is fine." I mumble and she nods her head. The only person I like calling me that is Violet when she's feeling flirty or teasing me about something, otherwise, the formality of it gives me a rash.

"Harry," she starts again and I nod, "what brings you in today?"

Oh god, here we go. I have to go through the relentless question list again. I throw my head back against the cushion and close my eyes. We're on the fifteenth floor, I wonder if these windows open.

"I know, you already told my receptionist your answer when you made the appointment." I swing my head up to look at her again, a little afraid she can read my mind, since the last comment I made would certainly get my ass institutionalized.
"You've been having nightmares, which lead to panic attacks. I guess my real question is, why do you think therapy will help you?"

I exhale a short laugh at her question and she raises her eyebrows at me.
"My girlfriend thinks it will help me." I explain half heartedly. "She's right about everything else, so I thought it might be worth a shot."

You're being a dickhead, Harry. Knock it off.
I run my hands over my face and back through my hair before I cross my arms over my chest.

"If you're uncomfortable speaking with me," she says, probably reading my closed off body language, "there's another doctor available. I'm sure he-"

"No." I say quickly and exhale a sigh. "No, I'm sorry. You don't make me uncomfortable, this therapy thing does." She nods her head in understanding.
"I apologize. I'd like to stick with you, I don't want that other doctor."

She looks at me with pursed lips, like she wants to say something. I raise my eyebrows at her and she sets her pen down on the notepad in her lap.

"Single mom?" She asks suddenly and I'm taken aback by her very accurate assumption.

"You're good." I say flatly and she nods.

"Aversion to men is common with children brought up by single mothers. Especially boys." I haven't even been here for five minutes, and this woman knocked me on my ass already.
"Despite you sitting as far away from me as possible, your body is still angled to face my direction. You're closed off, but not trying to disrespect me. The comment about your girlfriend shows you're not necessarily here on your own accord, but you came to please her, which is typically a pride swallowing moment for most men. You're not ashamed of that though. You hold her opinion above your own. You shut down the idea of another doctor as soon as I said he. You trust and respect women more than you ever will another man."

"Jesus Christ." I grumble out, a little annoyed that she clocked me so fast.

"Harry, my name is Dr. Bailey, and I want to help." I stare back at her and she raises her eyebrows at me, not backing down. I thought therapists were soft, emotional people, but she just handed me my ass in the first two minutes I've been here. I nod at her and she leans back in her chair, crossing her legs as she clicks her pen open.
"Why don't you tell me about the dreams?"