"So, I see in the referral that you had a panic attack?" Dr. Vanhulst checked her computer, but Tristan couldn’t see the screen from his point of view. He wondered how much was gathered on him.

"I,- er yes." He admitted sheepishly, while taking another quick sip from the glass.

"Do those happen often?"

At first Tristan didn’t respond, simply nodding at her question as he thought about the frequency of them. It had been less for the past few weeks, although the upcoming exams and Christmas still worried him, Hibiki's presence put him at ease.

"A little less now, they were worse last year."

"How often would that be, in a bad month?"

"Once a week? Sometimes more, if I was really stressed."

"And what do you feel when you are panicking?"

"I feel narrow, and small? I get nauseous, sometimes I throw up. I can't breathe, and the harder I try, the worse I get. I'm scared; that I'll die; that everything will go wrong." That nobody loves me. That I will end up homeless. He swallowed audibly, just recalling the feeling of panic was enough to make him nervous. A tremble in his hand caused the glass to shake, and he quickly put it down to instead grasp his knees. He glanced up with a quivering, uncertain smile, knowing that he didn't look comfortable.

"Hey, it's okay. Take a deep breath. We're here to work you through this."

He nodded and inhaled through his nose, in an attempt to let all the fear escape him. The more he clung on to it, the worse it would get – he knew that much.

"Do you know why you panic? What causes it?"

"I think,- I think I'm afraid to fail? To do something wrong."

"And what do you think will happen if something goes wrong?"

"That people will get mad at me? That they'll be angry or disappointed. That I'll fail in life and never be happy?" That I'll get beaten.

"Who is they?"

"My friends? Everyone who cares…" He admitted softly, biting his lip as he looked down.

"Okay, take a few more deep breaths for me. You've told me a lot, and you're doing very well. I'm not going to ask more of you today if you don't want to."

With a shaky nod, and a relieved smile he accepted that, trying to put himself over the hurdle of admitting his fears.

"I'm just afraid I am going insane?" He half asked, half confessed. "It feels like I break whenever I panic, and my mind can't get a grip."

"Would you like me to tell you a little bit about how I think about that? It might help you look at things differently." She smiled at him, rather kindly and inviting, and it appeared genuine to him. So he nodded, wondering what she had to say. "Maybe, don't think of sanity as not having these problems at all. A lot of people struggle with something, some a bit more than others. Being sane isn't a lack of mental trouble, it's being able to function with and despite of it. For some people that might be a grey area, others really can't help it, and some just need help finding a way to cope. So my job is to help you figure out how we can improve this." Once more she smiled, but this time Tristan didn't smile back.

He knew what she was saying, and in part it comforted him – but then he thought about everything that meant. There was so much he would have to admit and work through. It felt like his mind was a mountain he had to scale, and he didn't know if he could.

"I don't think I'm ready for that." He said softly, without looking up. Even speaking the words hurt, a part of him longing to be braver; but he wasn't. In truth he was frightened of changing himself, scared of what the effort and the unknown would mean. And perhaps, somehow, he didn't feel done being hurt yet. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he hadn't cried enough, hadn't panicked enough – that for a little bit longer he needed to be a victim, because he couldn't bear the responsibility of being his own saviour.

"That's alright, I can't force you if you don't want to. It's not an easy thing, I'd rather you come back here when you do feel ready. Just know that sometimes there is no right time, and if things really are wrong, don't be afraid to ask for help. Okay?"

"It's just… I don't think I can do this while studying. Maybe after?" He spoke, not sure if he was saying it to her, or himself.

"Whenever you feel comfortable." She continued to reassure him, but he still felt like he was wrong – maybe he really was. He wanted to crawl away and hide. A heavy, intense discomfort hit the bottom of his stomach, like a heavy weight that pushed him down toward the ground.

"Okay…" He nodded slowly, not knowing what else to say.

"I will keep these notes, for if you do change your mind. Alright?"

"Mhm." Once more he nodded. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. And if you feel you really need it, you can always give me a call." Dr. Vanhulst picked a small business card from a holder on the corner of her desk, and held it out for him. Without thinking about it, he took it, his mind too worried about other things. It was a fairly plain card, with just an email and a phone number.

Quietly he stood up, not knowing what he'd do otherwise. Part of him wanted to scramble back, but he was simply too unsure to even believe he would be able to change. He knew what was the right thing to do – it just didn't feel right yet.

________________________________________

The door of his apartment fell shut behind him, leaving him in the dark. With a dull thud, he laid his head against the wall beside him. His shoulders shook, now the full weight of his decision hit him. He tried to hold back his tears, but instead let out a muffled whine that didn't help at all. Unable to control even that, he closed his eyes and sobbed softly.

It overwhelmed him; not in a frightening way, but instead the reality of his life broke him. The fact that he wasn't normal. That he'd been deprived of care, and it wasn't fair – the very unfairness in and of itself hurting him. All the memories of pain and punishment he had gone through for nothing. All the nights he had been scared, and the days he had spent working. Studying, trying his very best. But after all that, he was still just broken. Still him, with all his flaws.

And now he knew he couldn't bring himself to change that. Even after getting so close, just one step away. If only he was a bit stronger, a bit braver, but he wasn't. He couldn't even deny it to himself anymore.

Through his tears he searched for his phone, finding it in his pocket. He wiped away the worst with the back of his hand, while typing half-blind.

T: I'm sorry.

He hovered over the keys, trying to gather the courage to type out what he had done, but he couldn't. Instead he laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, waiting for a response. His chest hurt each time he tried to breathe, but he still attempted to convince himself that it wasn't so bad.

A blip indicated a response, but he didn't want to know. Fear washed over him at the thought of disappointing Hibiki.

H: What's wrong?
Did something happen?

Even trying to write made him sniff heavily, and he had to rub his eyes dry a few times just to be able to see.

T: I can't do it. Not now.
Please don't be mad at me. I tried, but it's really difficult.

H: It's alright
I'm not mad
I get it
It is hard to do

T: I wanted to tell her, but I just couldn't get any words out. I don't want to say it, I want everything to go away.

Admitting to that brought him to the verge of tears a third time, but this time he managed to hold it in. He bit the side of his hand and squeezed his eyes closed. In his mind several thoughts ran into different directions, and he didn't know which one to follow – they were all negative.

H: Hey, I really get it
Don't worry babe
You can try again a different time

T: But I fucked up. I let you down. And now I'm distracting you and disappointing, while I know you're working.
I should do better. I'm sorry.

H: Tristan
I am not angry
I'm not disappointed
And talking to you won't make me fail or anything
I know you tried
You know what I did to my first psychologist?
I bit him

The mental image of that caused Tristan to chuckle slightly, despite the aching feeling of sadness in his throat. 

So you are doing way better than me
Just keep trying
Don't give up
Okay?

T: Sorry. I'll really do better, I promise.

H: Are you going to be okay?
If you want I can ask Kazuo to pick you up
I don't like the idea of you being alone and hurt

T: I don't know? I don't want to be a burden.

H: Of course not
I think you need me to cheer you up
With hugs
And kisses

T: Are you sure?

H: Study weekend sounds nice
And I want attention
What's the point of having a boyfriend if you can't use them?

T: Not much, I suppose.

H: You know you can't resist

T: You already sent Kazuo, didn't you?

H: I know what I want
And I always get it
(ʃƪ＾3＾）

Tristan sighed, and laid his head back against the wall – but this time he let out an exhausted sigh and smiled.

T: I'll pack my stuff