The Sanders Sides

21 - Movie Cuddles

The air in Camille's office was sterile and calming, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within Roman. He perched on the edge of the plush armchair, arms crossed tightly, a wall of defiance built against the unknown.

Camille, a woman with warm brown eyes and a gentle smile, observed him patiently.

"Thank you for coming in, Roman," she began, her voice a soothing melody.

Roman grunted a noncommittal reply, his gaze fixed on a painting of sailboats on an impossibly calm sea.

Undeterred, Camille continued. "Logan mentioned there was a recent event that brought up some... difficult memories."

A muscle in Roman's jaw clenched. Memories. They weren't memories; they were nightmares, flashbacks that ripped him back to that rain-soaked night with terrifying clarity. He could almost smell the burning metal.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Camille's question hung in the air, a soft invitation.

Silence. Roman's pride warred with a desperate need to scream, to vent the monster that clawed its way to the surface at the most unexpected moments. Talking about it felt like surrender, the ultimate weakness.

"Look," he finally choked out, his voice rough with disuse, "I don't need therapy. I just need everyone to stop tiptoeing around me like I'm going to shatter."

Camille's smile remained unchanged, but her eyes held a flicker of understanding. "It's not about weakness, Roman. It's about strength. Strength to face what happened and find healthy ways to cope with it."

Roman scoffed. "Healthy ways? Like talking about my feelings with a stranger?"

"Talking can be a powerful tool, Roman," Camille said gently. "But it's not the only one. Sometimes, just acknowledging the pain is a brave first step."

Silence settled again, but this time, it felt different. Less hostile, a space for contemplation. Roman stared at his clenched fists, the white of his knuckles stark against his pale skin.

"Can I... can I just tell you about it?" The words were barely a whisper, a tentative olive branch.

Camille leaned forward, her eyes radiating warmth. "Of course, Roman. Take your time."

And so, Roman began to talk. Not about the accident itself, not yet. He spoke of the aftermath, the crushing weight of helplessness, the fear that lurked just beneath the surface. As he spoke, the dam holding back the flood of emotions weakened. His voice trembled, a flicker of tears glistening in his eyes.

Camille listened intently, her presence a silent beacon of support. She didn't judge, didn't offer unsolicited advice. She simply held space for his story, for the raw vulnerability he'd spent so long suppressing.

By the end of the session, Roman was drained but strangely lighter. The weight of the unspoken hadn't vanished, but it felt less suffocating. As they parted ways, Camille offered a gentle smile.

"It takes courage to come here, Roman," she said. "See you next week?"

Roman hesitated, then nodded curtly. Stepping back out into the world, he felt a sliver of hope, a nascent belief that maybe, just maybe, he could heal after all.

Months had bled into one another, a monotonous blur of forced smiles and hollow laughter. The betrayal still clung to Patton like a shroud, a constant reminder of the shattered trust and broken promises. Today, the dam holding back the tears finally burst.

He found himself in Roman's room, the familiar scent of lavender soap and worn textbooks a strange comfort in the midst of his pain. Roman, ever perceptive, had pulled him into a hug the moment he saw Patton's tear-filled eyes.