That thing where Louis is trying to hold in a laugh but he can’t so then his whole face breaks into the most radiant smile and sometimes he covers his mouth with the back of his hand reblog if you agree
u and eric go to the same therapist and he finally plucks up the courage to talk to u
I hope you enjoy!
“I wonder what magical advice he will give me this week,” you mutter, walking down a long narrow hall in the clinic, not looking forward to this evenings session with your therapist. You trudge along, giving yourself a mental pep talk along the way to motivate yourself to push through the day. Repeating the mantra, ’I can do this’, you stop in front of the wooden door and lean against the wall, silently speaking in your head.
The door creaks to life, startling you from your daze. The therapist pokes his head out of the door, a radiant smile etched onto his aging face. You give him a polite grin, standing up from the wall. “Y/n, I’m so glad to see you today,” he beams, stepping out into the hall and holding the door open for you to enter. You walk inside, ready to plop down on the usual blue sofa in the middle of his office.
“How have things been?” He asks, shutting his door and taking a seat in front of you, a clipboard in hand along with a pen. “I’ve been doing alright,” you shrug, looking around the room for a moment. You became sort of desensitized to the therapy sessions, and started to feel more relaxed in his presence.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” he nods back, scribbling a little on the pad of paper in front of him. He looks up from his notes, sets his hand on top of the other, and stares at you with a serious expression on his face.
“I thought we would try something different today,” he suggests, his voice friendly and warm. You raise an eyebrow in confusion at his statement, wondering what on earth would be different or new. You’ve sat in the same seat for a over a month, rambling about the same problems. How is he going to change it up?
“How so?” You ponder, gazing at him intently. He readjusts his posture, still giving you the radiant and beaming smile that he greeted you with. “I think we should try a group session,” he suggests, his voice firm but sincere. You gape at him in confusion, not knowing what to say.
“It would be for just ten minutes, and it won’t interfere with your personal session time,” he assures, clicking his pen as he explains. You slump against the back of the seat, crossing your arms and letting out a long breath of air.
“What if I don’t want to talk to a group?” You ask, starting to become annoyed. He nods his head at your concern, giving you a reassuring smile. “Then you can just listen,” he answers, his voice soft and calm.
You relax against the seat. starting to get used to the idea. Listening to other people talk for ten minutes wasn’t too painful. The knockng at the door breaks your trance, as you watch your therapist spring up from his chair to answer it. He pulls the door open to reveal a figure standing against the wall, looking around in apprehension.
“Eric! Please, come inside,” the therapist beams, waving him in with a hand. Eric grumbles something under his breath, and strides in, his hands in his pockets. He walks inside and then abruptly stops when he notices you sitting on the sofa.
“Y/n, this is Eric Harris, one of the group members that will be joining us this evening,” the therapist introduces, smiling at you both. “Hi Eric,” you mutter at him, giving him a lazy wave. His eyes flicker around for a moment, his posture visibly screaming with awkwardness. He mumbles a hello, and takes a seat on the edge of the sofa, not wanting to take up too much space.
The two of you sit there together, while a few more patients walk in, equally as awkward and out of place as Eric was. You watch as people begin taking seats on the various seating arrangements in the room, all facing and circled around the therapist’s chair.
“So, I feel like we would begin sharing some of our feelings,” the therapist suggests, crossing his hands on his clipboard and looking around the room, grinning from ear to ear. People scoff and fidget with their clothing, no one wanting to speak. A girl finally raises her hand in the back, offering to lead the discussion first.
You sit there and listen to everyone talk about their emotions, as people begin to feel more comfortable and open up with each other. You remain quiet, not speaking a word, just listening to the conversation around you.
Finally, the brief session comes to an end when the therapist’s wristwatch beeps out of control. People take the initiative to start getting up to leave.
“I feel as if this went very well,” the therapist beams, clasping his hands together in content. He helps usher people out of the door, giving them reassuring smiles as they exit.
You stand up from the seat, stretching your arms out after sitting for awhile. Eric stands up with you, glancing over as you begin to walk out of the door. “Y/n, are we still on for your session?” The therapist asks, watching as you walk out of the door. “Yeah, I just need to get something to drink real fast,” you smile, pointing towards the vending machine at the front of the room. He gives you an understanding nod, turning his attention to Eric as he walks out with you.
You make your way to the lobby of the building, watching as all the other teenagers pile out of the doors, talking with each other in hushed voices. You stop at the vending machine, fishing around in your pocket for some money.
“Dammit,” you hiss, pulling out a handful of money, realizing you’re short twenty-five cents. “Of course,” you groan, starting to put the money back.
“Wait, I have a quarter,” a voice calls out behind you. Turning around you see Eric walking up to you, fishing out a quarter from his pocket, smiling. His hand shakes when he drops it in your open palm.
“Thanks,” you smile, turning back to the machine, sliding the change into the slot. “What did you think about the group session?” He pipes up, walking closer to where you stand. You push buttons on the machine and shrug, not sure of how to feel about it.
“It was alright, I guess. I really didn’t get anything out of it,” you admit, turning to give him a smirk. He nods and sheepishly smiles at your comment, now leaning on the machine. “I agree,” he chuckles, crossing his arms against his chest. You look up at him, a smile creeping onto your face.
“How come we’ve never met?” You ask, finding it odd that you went to the same therapist but never talked. His cheeks flush red, as he looks around the room for a moment. “Well, I’ve seen you around, but never introduced myself,” he admits, shaking his head and looking at the ground. You giggle at his shyness, which makes him smile. His muscles relax finally, starting to become comfortable.
“Now we’re introduced,” you grin, lending an arm out for him to shake your hand. He shakes your hand and smiles, then looks out into the parking lot through the window. “Sorry I have to leave so soon, but my mom’s here,” he shrugs, nodding his head toward the window. You smile and bend down to collect your soda from the vending machine.
“I’ll see you around?” You ask, raising an eyebrow and smiling. He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “You definitely will,” he assures, starting to walk outside of the door. He gives you a small wave before he walks out in the lot, squinting from the radiant sun.
You smile and watch as he leaves, immediately intrigued with him. Shaking your head, you begin to walk back down the narrow hall to the office, the smiling face of Eric engraved into your mind.
It was a familiar song. The slow careful march that heralding a bride walking down the aisle. But when Jim turned to look, it was Oswald walking towards him, a bouquet of lilies in hand and a radiant smile on his face.
Jim froze, feeling his body stuck on the alter. Oswald took his spot beside him and leaned in to whisper “Isn’t this perfect Jim?”
A sinking feeling came over Jim and he shook his head. “This is the last favour.” he warned.
The doors to the church banged open and they both turned. His partner, Bullock, was gasping for air. “You can’t marry him Jim. I love you.”
Jim’s heart swelled with love, and he went to step away from the alter and Oswald. “Ah ah ah! I don’t think so.” he turned at the new voice. Their priest was now Edward and Jim frowned.
His former co-worker smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You promised Oswald you’d marry him… besides Jim… have you even told Detective Bullock that you love him?”
Jim was stumbling away, fending off the smack of the Bible that Edward was aiming at him. “Make up your mind Jim. You can’t have everything! Oswald won’t love me until he gets what he wants from you!” Edward was screaming, Oswald was crying and Bullock looked at him helplessly.
The blonde tried to run. Instead he tripped, falling across white satin and he woke gasping. Sweat poured over him and Jim tried to regulate his breathing.
“Jim? What’s wrong?” Harvey’s voice was gravelly and sleep filled beside him. Jim immediately turned to him, capturing him in a kiss.
“I love you. I love you.” Jim chanted between kisses. Harvey raised his brows, but smiled cheekily. “must have been a good dream if you’re confessing now.”
Jim shook his head. “It was a terrible dream… I was marrying Oswald…”
“well then… let ol’ Harv chase that dream away.” Harvey pulled Jim close, kissing him deeply, hands caressing over Jim’s body, reminding him that he was here.
Sometimes, he really wished he had never said anything even vaguely mentioning ‘Keyblades’ or ‘Heartless’ in Lilo’s immediate vicinity. Because she’d dragged the whole story out, and then decided not to leave him alone until he got off his butt and gone to help. Curse you, small child and your persuasive ways. And your alien dog that can probably bite his face off.
Anyway, here he is in Radiant Garden, pointedly not wearing his coat (jeans and a t-shirt and an open blue Hawaiian shirt over it will do, thanks) and with a backpack slung over his shoulder. On the one hand, this is kinda the place where he died, so he’s…avoiding going anywhere near that area, thanks. But on the other, it’s actually a really nice place! And the girl he talked to – he’s going to pretend he didn’t recognize her from yet another video game, because the fourth wall already feels shaky enough, thanks Disneyland – had pointed him towards the castle.
So he’s sticking his head into the lab curiously. “Hey?” He calls. “Anyone in here? Hello~o? Uh, Vexen?” He’s just guessing whose lab it is, actually, but it makes sense. Right?