therapy // h.s a.u

1.

  I make the mistake of looking up into Louis's eyes.

He smiles,doing this weird thing of not showing his teeth and just pursing his lips but he somehow manages to make it seem as though he's smiling.

I don't smile back.

"...when you feel down, don't keep all of those feelings inside. It's okay to just express how you feel. It's okay to let all of those pent up feelings be free..." Monica drones on and on. This is getting repetitive.

In the meantime, I avert my gaze from Louis's eyes and look back down at the huge ass rug stained with so much Coca Cola that the once pink rug is now an awful shade of a reddish brown.

I then look down at my arms resting on my knees, tracing my right pointer finger around the small tattoo that is etched into my skin.

Don't get me wrong, Louis is a great guy. But he's gay as fuck, and I know for a fact that I'm straight as fuck. And the only reason why I don't exactly like him is that he tries to hit on me, which is pretty creepy. Everytime Monica mentions something about us partnering up to work on our journals together, he always looks at me; not in the way that he wants to be my partner for like a school project, but in the way where he wants me to be his...I'll just stop at that.

He's no more than five years older than me at most, but I mean, his life is so different from mine. Come on now, he's twenty five but makes more money in a year than most people make in a lifetime.

Louis comes from this rich ass family- and by family I mean that his family is just a bunch of sketchy shareholders and businessmen jumbled up into this mess of humanity. He told his family that he was gay when that LGBT marriage thing was passed not too long ago, and the poor guy thought that his family would be proud of him for coming out of the closet.

It was the total opposite.

His family went nuts. His father called him a faggot, and his mom wouldn't stop crying. Five months later, he was engaged to a person that he barely knew, and there was a baby on the way; since he was practically forced to knock her up, "To ensure that once you pass, you have someone to pass down the family business to," is apparently what his mother told him.

He was married for no more than eleven months, twelve days, and thirteen hours, he freaking counted how long he was stuck in the marriage. I wouldn't blame him. I mean, come on. He's gay, but he's forced to act like he's as straight as a stick and marry a girl who he's never met before and have a daughter with her. You can't possibly blame the guy.

On New Year's Day however, he packed a suitcase and left.

Bam.

Just like that.

He wanted to be free. Free as can be. He didn't want a family that constantly hounded him.

He did, however, scrawl a note for his daughter to read since he actually liked her even though she wasn't exactly supposed to exist; and he left.

By all means, Louis isn't a homeless person right now. He somehow managed to secretly create a new business during his marriage, out of his family's eyes, and even though the once trillionaire twenty-five year old is now a billionaire, he's still rich as fuck.

But his family eventually found out that he left and they threatened to sue the poor guy for "stealing confidential files," which led to Louis falling into a deep state of depression since his already broken family was no longer a family to him anymore, which also led him to him trying to commit suicide two months ago. Which is why he is here.

Oh, and by the way, Louis told me all of this within the first five minutes of therapy on the day we met.

But anyways, Monica is still talking about how anxiety can sometimes prevent us from letting out our emotions, or some shit like that, but she stops talking when we hear the door open.

First of all, everyone in this room has been stuck in therapy for at least a year and half, I've been stuck in this hellhole for three years. Three.

Three years of people constantly telling me that I will get better.

Three years of seeing people coming and going.

Three years of convincing myself that I really am a freak.

Secondly, no one has joined therapy for one year and half. Noone. Maybe it's because we're all jumbled in this tiny room that is tucked inside of an elementary school, but no one new has joined in a year and half. Absolutely noone.

Thirdly, I thought that the person who was about to walk through that creaky door was going to be just another custodian finishing his night shift. But no. It wasn't.

The person who walked through the door that is need of a paint job and some oiling, was none other than Summer Reid.