There's Something About A Fallen Star...{COD}

Chapter 10: It didn't feel good, lying.

{QUICK SIDETRACK, I JUST FOUND OUT I CAN BOLD WORDS IN THE TITLE. My titles finna go CRAZY}

Ghost POV

I leave John's apartment, into the garage, into my car. I toss the folder into the passenger seat, starting the car. I hate to admit it, but I was nervous. I kept thinking, but I couldn't get it off my mind. In my cup holder, a folded piece of paper. It's the therapist appointment. I hadn't given it much thought since I'd got it.

This situation is making me consider going. I have no need to talk to a therapist, but it might be nice to get a second opinion on it. Price knows enough about my life, Gaz doesn't seem like the type to care about things like this. Yeah, the therapist. I take a turn, heading to the office.

Minus a couple wrong turns, and a use of Google maps, I eventually made my way.

I park, walking up to the house with my note. It's past the time written on the note, but I'm sure she'll take me. That's a therapist's whole thing, no? As I walk up to the door, it opens. It was the same therapist from before. She sees me, jolting, just like last time. "Son of a-" She sounds. Her face showing an unfavorable expression.

"Hi again" she says, stepping back to open the door. "Thanks" I say, entering the house. We both make our way up the stairs, into her office. She sets down her tote, and sits in her wicker chair. I sit on the couch, locking my fingers together. She rubs her eyes, not exactly interested in my presence. "Is this going to be a thing with you coming after my hours?" she asks.

I feel slightly bad, "Sorry" I say. She lets out a sigh, "It's fine, I didn't have anything planned after this" she says. I nod, "Doesn't mean I enjoy this situation" she reminds. I watch as she grabs a binder behind her, opening up to a section she hasn't yet written in. "Simon Riley.. That's your name, right?" She asks, looking up at me.

"Yes" I respond, she looks back down, writing. "Let's start with the reason for the visit" she says. I think for a moment, thinking how to word my issue. "It's about my boyfriend" I say. "The same one you gave a ring to?" she asks. I look up to her, furrowing my brow at what sounded like an assumption of me being unloyal. She lifts her hand, "Apologies" she says.

I shift my attention back down, "Yeah, it is" I confirm. I watch as she writes something, "What about him?" she questions. I feel the callous on my hand, "I feel like he takes the ring off when he's not around me" I say. She places her pen down, "Why do you think that?" she asks. I think back to the past few days.

"The day when I gave it.. The ring, to him. He was... Different" I say. I think back to his reaction, "How so?" she asks. "When I offered it, he thought I was proposing. I wasn't, and quickly corrected the intention of the ring, but once I said I wasn't preposing, he went back to as he was before" I explain. I take a breath, clearing my throat.

"From curious, to hesitant, back into his normal attitude" I say. She continues to write, the binder at an angle I'm unable to see the writing. "Tell me about your past together" she asks. I look up at her, confused. "Our past?" I question. She hums an affirming yes. I blink, "Specifically what part of it?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by my clarifying questions. "The day you met" she suggests. I think back. The smell of the base, the weather outside, him. I remember it like it was yesterday. "I met him in my office for an interview, but before that, there was a day. Little more than a week before. The first time I became aware of him, was when I saw his name on a paper."

She starts to write again, "Just a regular transfer, there are millions of John's out there. At the time, it didn't mean anything to me" I explain. Our relationship has changed greatly beyond a name on a paper. "A week later, I officially met him in my office. His hair was shorter than it was now, few curls but not many. Posture was fine, and he smelt... Doesn't matter" I say.