first love never die

| Five • Him |

| Chapter Five ~ Him |

Dr. Foster didn't always drive to work. Sometimes, she took a cab, but mostly, she took the subway. This was one of those times, and I won't lie, I loved her for it. The noise, the movement, the music. All of which helped me get out of my head and remain where I was supposed to be. New York City, in the present, alongside her. And although during our journey we remained silent, one could always count on the city to provide ambiance. It wasn't until we reached her street that my breathing started to get a bit heavy and I began to struggle again.

We walked in and she immediately went for the kitchen while I lagged behind.

"Can I make you something?" She asked.

Bear in mind this was a woman whose idea of cooking meant calling somewhere and waiting for it to be delivered. No apps, mind you. She actually called the restaurants she liked and had them bring her whatever she wanted.

I shook my head, going for a faint smile I absolutely did not manage to achieve. "I'm okay,"

"Thomas," she said, and I was instantly reminded of one of our sessions. "At least let me make you some coffee,"

"Alright. Coffee." I shrugged.

"Lovely!" She said, rather proud.

I kept walking around. At first, checking the artwork—by that I mean facing the artwork, not properly taking any of it in. Except for Dante. There's no way of missing Dante. But then I got dangerously close to the sofa and backed away at once.

"Why don't you sit down?" She suggested, as she took two cups and waited for the coffee-maker to turn on.

"Here?" I scoffed. "No, thank you."

She chuckled. "Why not?"

"I feel I'd be awfully close to a session," I said. "And I don't need you slipping into doctor-mode on me,"

"Maybe that would help," she said.

"I've got Lott for that," I told her, and as I said, I was reminded of my appointment. "Holy shit, I missed Lott." I slapped my forehead.

"I'm sure she'll understand," she was quick to say. "Go on, you have nothing to worry about. You can sit. I promise I won't slip into doctor-mode,"

"You say that, but what if that's a trap?" I turned to her, snapping my fingers and winking.

"Come to the kitchen, then," she said. "I analyze no one in the kitchen."

So I did. Not yet quite convinced, just...tired.

"This is good," I said, taking a sip of my Americano.

She sat across from me in the isle that was in the middle of the kitchen.

"Why do you think she did it?" She asked, true to her word.

Had she decided to analyze me, it would've taken Dr. Foster ages to dance around the subject until finally making me ask and answer the question for her.

"I dunno," I shrugged, going silent for a bit. "We hadn't talked in a while," I shook my head. "God, we hadn't talked in too long a while,"

"Why not?"

"It got to be too much for her, I think,"

"What did?"

"Me?" I tried smiling. "Seeing me,"

"That's—"

"—absolutely okay," I finished her sentence.

It made for her to go silent for the moments that followed.