Sanders Sides One Shots(HIATUS)

Day 2: Remile

Human AU, hurt/comfort. Written by someone who hasn't watched cartoons in years(because of my parents). This was a request and also worked out as one of these for my monthly challenge, soooo here ya go!

(this is dedicated to Lily. You know who you are ;)

TW: censored cussing, sad therapist, bad writing.

Emile was sad.

The normally bubbly, peppy therapist was driving home from his office to his apartment. The car, usually filled with music, was silent. His tie was askew, his glasses were crooked, his hair was less than perfect, and the smile on his face was nearly nonexistent. The thermos in his cup holder was half-full of forgotten lukewarm tea.

He pulled into a driveway, the gravel road crunching under his tires. A minute later, he turned the knob to his apartment and closed the door behind him, sighing.

His boyfriend's face shot up. "Oh. Nope. No sadness today, babe. What happened?"

Emile shook his head, forcing himself to smile. "Nothing! I'm fine."

"No you're not." Remy walked up to him and took his hand, leading him to the sofa and taking his work bag. He sat down, letting Remy take care of him. "Tell me what's wrong. I'm no therapist, but I know it's not ok to bottle up emotions like this."

Emile didn't meet his eyes.

Remy took off his sunglasses and raised Emile's chin with his finger. "Hey... it's ok to cry." A small smile cracked his face.

Emile blinked, a tear running down his cheek. He folded himself into Remy's embrace. "Am I... too childish?" he whispered, his voice shaking.

"No!" Remy's voice was shocked. "Who gave you that idea?"

"Just-just one of my new clients. He came to me with his daughter, asking what my methods were to help depression. I-I told him that I use cartoons t-to teach therapy. I showed him my methods. And-and-" Emile stopped. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he let out a sob. "He said that my methods were childish and that they would never work. That I was too unprofessional to be working at this job. That I should be actually helping people, not h-hurting them or distracting them with s-silly childish cartoons." Emile broke down into sobs.

"That b*tch." Remy hissed, pulling his boyfriend close. "Ok, first of all, your methods may be unconventional, but they work better than whatever he was doing with his daughter. Second, you are professional. Just like the people who make those cartoons. Do you really think someone who wasn't professional could get all the rewards or earn all the income you do? Third, you are helping people, no matter what anyone says. You have helped countless people with their mental health. Hell, you even helped me! So, babe, I want you to know that that man was wrong in every way. You are an amazing therapist, and nothing anyone says can ever change that. Got it?"

"T-thanks, Rem." Emile sniffed, his tears subsiding. He leaned into the hug. "I'm sorry for crying."

"Hey. Somebody smart once told me that if you bottle up your emotions, you lie to yourself. And you don't want to do that, do you?" Remy pulled Emile into a quick kiss. "Crying is human, and it is needed."

"I love you so much... thank you." Emile smiled. He may not be the most conventional of therapists, but he sure was the greatest of them all.