Recover (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter One; Meeting The Therapist

Taking a deep breath, Harry raised his clammy hands and quickly wiped them on his jeans, then opened the door and walked inside. Immediately, he was hit by the cold air inside and he shivered, not expecting the sudden change in temperature.

He hesitantly looked around, seeing that the place was relatively empty at this time of day. He noticed a girl, maybe a little younger than him, who was occupying a chair and staring bleakly at the wall in front of her. Harry was shocked, because although she was definitely a teenager, she didn't look like it. In fact, even through the thick sweater she was wearing, he swore that she was as thin as a stick. 

There was also a man sitting opposite her, reading a newspaper. He looked normal at first glance, but then Harry noticed that there was a tan line on the fourth finger of his left hand, and Harry realized that he must have divorced his wife recently.

Harry was able to study both individuals and determine their problems in a couple of mere seconds. Being isolated from people, he didn't talk a lot, which made him become more observant than the average person.

Diverting his attention from the patients, Harry looked around the office, noting the awards that were framed on the wall. There was also a small telly in the corner, but it was on mute, and no one seemed to be watching. When his eyes landed on the desk where the secretary sat, his heart started beating harder and he wondered if anyone else could hear it.

He walked over to the desk and read the name on the counter. P. Ashford. He looked at her, and although she appeared to be busy, he could tell she wasn't, mainly because she wasn't actually doing any work on the computer, but instead chatting with what appeared to be her boyfriend.

"Excuse me," Harry muttered, clearing his throat when his voice didn't come out right. "Um, Ms. Ashford?"

She heaved a huge sigh--as if he was disturbing her--and turned to him, an annoyed expression covering her face. "What?" She snapped.

"I, uh, have an appointment for four o'clock."

"You're Styles?" She asked, her eyes looking him up and down. 

"Yeah ..."

"Have a seat. Dr. Tomlinson will be with you shortly."

Harry turned around uncertainly and slowly walked over to a chair in the corner, sitting down and putting his hands over his face stress fully. What had he gotten himself into? He wasn't going to get better. He shouldn't be wasting Dr. Tomlinson's time. He could be helping someone that needed it he did. And Harry would simply go back to being himself and trying to cope with the deadly thoughts that he couldn't escape from.

But then, an image of his mum flashed through his mind. Her hair wasn't in a ponytail like it usually was nowadays; it was flowing around her. Her eyes were alight with happiness, and she was laughing at something Harry had said. The image represented happier times. Better times. Harry wanted his mum to be laughing like that again, some day. And if he let himself suffer like this any more than he already was, he knew that he wouldn't be able to bring that smile on her face. 

"Mr. Styles?"

Harry's head shot up at his name, and he realized that the secretary was calling him. "Yeah?"

"Dr. Tomlinson will see you now."

Harry nodded getting up. He glanced one last time at the other two people in the small office with him, and then he turned his head back around and walked forward, his eyes set on the door at the end of the hallway. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and his scrambling thoughts.

He gripped the doorknob when he reached it, unsure of whether or not he should open  the door. If he went inside, there would be no going back. He wouldn't be able to pretend that he was doing completely fine, that nothing was wrong. He'd grown so accustomed to lying to himself, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to face the truth.