Chapter Text
Thankfully, you always made sure you didn’t work when you had therapy, and that they were always in the afternoon. You loved sleeping in, as a working adult you didn’t often get too. Slow mornings were your utmost favorite.
Get up
Get dressed
Take dog out
Eat
Do whatever
Those days were often more rewarding than days filled with activities and do-to lists, at least for you anyway. Though, you were never one to complain when someone else did the planning. Before, Papyrus would always plan outings, right down to what time you ate and how many calories were in your meals. Helpful for him, hellish for you. You never minded that much, not in the grand scheme of things, because it meant you could sightsee or goof off without being stressed about time. You and Sans would always go off, you smiled to yourself as you walked down the street, your breath clouding in front of you, and wreck as much calm chaos as you could in Papyrus’ schedule. He was always on time, and always got pranked.
You didn’t even realize your eyes stung with tears until you got back home, and warm trails of water were traveling down your face. Letting your little dog go, you decided to forgo breakfast in favor of unhealthy snacks. You didn’t shower, but instead anxiously waited around for 1:30 to come by.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“I saw him.” You immediately said as you walked into her office.
Your therapist's office was pretty standard. Fidget toys, soft chairs, books, warm, but not bright, colors and decorations, closed but uncovered window. Dr. Ezer looked over you in shock, her bright eyes staring right into you. She was a middle-aged woman, a bit too young to be your mother, but too old to be a rival classmate who was doing way better than you in life. Perfect.
“Oh! Oh dear, how bad is it? Level 10?” She asked, while she kept her composure as she watched you sit, you watched her fumble with her paperwork and uncross her legs.
“No no, sorry, not him him, but, uhm, one of his cousins. Jefeito.” You clarified, leg bouncing. Her shoulders untensed, and she sat back with a serious look on her face.
“Jefeito? Who is that again?”
“He was just one of the guys living in the house, we never really interacted, but when we did it was always kind of aggressive.” You looked down, shame now building in your face. “He’d call me an….” Taking a moment, you took a breath and reminded yourself that you were speaking because this was then not now, and not tomorrow. You are breaking down what these experiences did to you, not analyzing threats coming to attack you. These people cannot hurt you anymore. “He’d call me an easy drug whore, when we’d pass in the hallway.” A strong blush over took your face, the shame too much to hide. Tears spilled over, and snot immediately formed. You grabbed at the tissue box next to you, angrily wiping at your face. Dr. Ezer called out to you, reminding you to be gentle with your heart. Which meant that to be gentle with your heart, you had to first be gentle with what carried it.
“He never like, he hit me, but it was a shoulder check or like, a shove. Never hard enough to leave a bruise but hard enough to remind me of my ‘place.’” You air quoted, shuffling uncomfortably in your seat. “His brother was always a little nicer to me, but just seeing him made me sick. He texted me afterward, too. Nothing bad. Or maybe it was bad because it was about him. I don’t know I-” You had given her your phone, rambling while she read the words carefully on your phone screen. Her expression was unreadable.
She set your phone down on the little TV tray in front of you and leaned back while looking at you. Usually, when she did that, it meant she had had no real insight for you other than what your immediate course of action was.
“Are you going to respond to him?” She asked, tone questioning.
“I….I don’t know, should I? When he texted me that last part, I felt relieved? Or scared? I’m not sure, it was like the past three years came rushing at me. Like everything I experienced wasn’t just some bad fever dream, like every bad thing was a real memory and every part I can’t remember is something I’m now missing.” You shrugged, you felt so unsure of everything.
“What do I even say? I don’t want to open conversation, but then it’s going to hang over me all day. What if I see him there again? I can’t keep running away. I have to keep my job, I mean.” You groaned, falling back into the chair. “I can’t just keep running away from them.” You looked back over at her, and you could feel her gaze right into your soul, perceiving and analyzing every little broken inch of you.
“If you were to respond, you should keep it short and simple. ‘That would be appreciated.’ or simply liking the message would do. No need to open a conversation or invite him into your world. There is no immediate danger with him, right?” She asked, testingly.
You mulled it over, the weight of the world on the tip of your tongue.
Jefeito wasn’t an immediate danger, he didn’t threaten you, like Hero or ruin your life like Sans and Papyrus did. Like he did. Even saying his nickname made you sick, made your stomach churn with fear.
“Well then, why don’t we go over lowering our anxiety levels in public?” She grabbed a stress ball for you, and you stared into the empty eyes of a cat.
˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
You rode the public transport back, looking out the window with more text messages open. You still kept in contact with your monster friends, but after everything went down with Sans and Papyrus the first time, you started being flaky. After the second, you almost went ghost. You almost did a lot of things. The only beings you really kept in contact with were Toriel and Frisk. For some reason, they looked up to you and always wanted to hang out with you. Now that they're older, they send you a lot of memes and TikToks. Still, talking was hard. Seeing them was even harder.
Hello dear friend! It is I, Toriel! I am sending you a text in the hopes that you are well. Maybe we should meet up? No worries!
Sincerely, Toriel.
You didn’t know how to respond, what you would say, how you would say anything. So you didn’t. You couldn’t say much of anything these days. You started to walk home with a pit in your stomach, all the emotions in your head and stomach clouding your intuition. Your apartment wasn’t that far, but it was far enough for the cold to sting your cheeks and make you shove your hands in your pocket.
You didn’t notice your dog's lack of barking as you unlocked your door.