something more ((yandere x reader))

IV- roots

I know I just uploaded earlier today but over the next few days I might upload multiple chapters in a day, just because I don't know how much I'm going to be able to update over Christmas. Anyway, here's another chapter :)

-LT. May

(Y/n) waited at her desk for Harlow. His next therapy session had arrived and with some help from Victor, (Y/n) now had her angle. She glanced at the clock, the session was in five minutes.

"Come on, Harlow..." She muttered under her breath. As if some god had heard her plea, the phone intruded her ears. "Dr (L/n) speaking?"

"Harlow Pickens is being sent through to you now." Mandy said robotically.

(Y/n) let a soft relieved breath out. "Thank you."

Harlow walked through the door. (Y/n) felt a great need to help him, this could have been because of how he reminded her of Victor or it could have been her overall compassion.

"I've done some thinking over this week and I want you to think of this as less 'court ordered therapy' and more 'a talk with a friend'. So we can start with my name, (Y/n)." She rose from the chair behind her desk and sat on a chair that she'd lugged into her office from the waiting room. (Y/n) had discarded her clipboard, relying on memory to take notes after the session.

Harlow raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Seriously?"

"Whatever I ask you, you have the right to know about me. It's like getting to know someone." She explained. "And we don't need to start off with the heavy duty stuff, just whatever you want to talk about."

"Okay..." He nodded slowly, summing up her idea in his head.

"So, Harlow, you know that I'm a therapist. What do you work as?" (Y/n) tried to sound as casual as possible.

"Right now I've got a job at the chop shop working as a car mechanic." He shrugged. "It's not what I wanted to be doing with my life at this point but it pays."

"That's really cool, I'm useless with things like that- visual thinking and stuff. What did you want to be, well, what do you want to be?" She segued onto another question.

"It's dumb, but I really like art. I'd like to paint, a few of the kids I stayed with between families when I was younger they'd go around and graffiti the town and I thought it was really good. I never actually spray painted anything though, it just seemed so permanent and... out there, you know?" Harlow relieved some memories of his time in the foster system reluctantly but he felt like (Y/n) had tried hard to make him feel comfortable. While her plan wasn't going exactly the way she had hoped, it more made him pity her for being so desperate so he figured he could throw her a bone.

"It's great you've got an artistic outlet, painting and drawing can used as a form of therapy." (Y/n) smiled, glad to see him opening up a bit.

"What about you? Did you always want to be a therapist?" Harlow asked in return.

"Oh absolutely. I knew I wanted to help people, I've been told I'm a good listener as well. It seemed like a no brainier for me." She tried to backtrack back to him speaking about being in foster care. "Did you have a lot of friends in the foster system?"

"I'd make friends, normally not the kids I was living with. But I'd make friends with kids at their school, but then I'd always leave the school and just go onto the next one and never stay in touch. There are a couple who were in the system with me who I'd chill with between homes but I wouldn't call them friends." He bitterly thought on those boys, all a few years older than him. "They were the ones who got me on heroin, god knows where they are now."

"Do you stay in touch with any of your old foster parents?"

"Nope. All of them were either doing it for money or were super rich and felt like doing some charity work, none of them actually gave a shit about me or any of the kids." Harlow remarked spitefully.

"What about your biological parents?" (Y/n) dig deeper into his past, trying to search for any parental figure in his life.

He scoffed at the mention. "I don't know. When I left the system they asked me if I wanted to get in touch with my mom and I was like 'fuck no', why the hell would I want to do that?" Harlow shook his head vigorously. "What about you? You close with your parents?"

"My dad passed away when I was a baby. I never really knew him which sucks. My mom and I are super close because I'm an only child, it's always been just the two of us against the world." (Y/n) thought about her small family, she would have loved to have met her father and only ever heard good things about him.

Harlow looked at her in slight envy. "Sorry about your dad."

"I am too. Sometimes my mom will talk about him and I can tell she loved him so much and..." She sighed. "Is it possible to miss someone you've never even met?"

"Definitely." Harlow stated quickly.

"He liked art." (Y/n) said almost subconsciously.

"Huh?"

"He was an artist, a few of his paintings are up in the gallery on western street." She pictured the intricate images in her head. "I used to go with my mom all the time, she'd talk to me about how he was so concentrated and at peace whenever he was working." (Y/n) spoke rather sadly

"I'll check it out." Harlow said quietly, feeling an indescribable urge to make (Y/n) happy, her sadness made him greatly uncomfortable. "Now I feel like a bit of a dick. My dad's out there and I just don't look for him, you couldn't meet your dad if you tried."

(Y/n) dismissed his guilt. "Don't worry, we have completely different situations and you shouldn't feel forced to peruse a relationship with him if you don't want to. It's completely up to you." She mixed at the end of her sentence.

Harlow soaked up her smile, he felt a slight confusion grow in him. In that moment, he didn't really care if her care for him was genuine or just for her job because it made him feel like nothing else ever had. A slight chill ran up his spine and the session continued.