Luke's POV

My mom came home four days ago after almost three weeks in the hospital. Her doctors said she'll be able to start treatment soon and then have her surgery. They said everything should be finished in three months. Of course, everything has to run smoothly and as planned, which I'm concerned about. Things never go as planned, but I'm trying to be optimistic for my mom's sake, as well as mine.

I thought finally having my mom in the house would make things feel a little more normal. The house still feels strange, like there's an aura of tension in the air. It's always so quiet here. We tip toe and whisper when Mom is asleep, which is a lot. The television volume is always low. Conversations are always short because no one knows what to talk about. I feel like I'm walking on glass and trying not to break it. My parents haven't lived in the same house for years, my mom is sick, and I'm just here. Things are anything but normal. I don't even know what normal is anymore.

It's time for dinner and my mom's been asleep for the past few hours. I walk into her room and open the door slowly to see if she's awake.

"Mom?" I whisper.

She waves from her bed and smiles.

"Dad made dinner. Do you feel well enough to have any?" I ask, walking into her room. 

She sits up a little. "Yeah, I'll join you! I'm feeling pretty good right now. Sorry I've been asleep most of the past few days. You'd think I could catch up on sleep while in the hospital, but they're always waking me up for something."

"It's okay, I don't mind. I know what you mean." Whenever I was in the hospital last year, nurses would always come in with things to check or give me. 

My mom slowly starts to get out of bed. I follow behind her as she makes her way out of her room, shuffling down the hallway. My dad is just finishing setting the table when we sit down. He made pasta, which I've had at least twice a week, since my dad and my cooking skills are not very advanced. 

"So Luke, your dad and I have been thinking," my mom starts to say once we're all seated.

This can't be good. Every time she starts a sentence with my name followed by "your dad and I," it never ends well. 

"Luke, your dad and I have decided to get a divorce."

"Luke, your dad and I are concerned about your health and think you should try a rehabilitation center."

"Luke, your dad and I think it'll be best for you to move to Maine and live with him."

I brace myself for whatever she's about to say. I look from my mom to my dad, waiting for one of them to say something. They share a glance and I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. I have no idea what she's about to tell me.

"And? What have you been thinking?" I ask, swallowing hard. My palms are suddenly very sweaty, so I rub them against the edge of my pants.

"We've set up an appointment with a new therapist for you," my mom says.

I sigh. I had a feeling this would happen at some point. This definitely isn't the worst news in the world. It's just hard for me to get comfortable with new therapists. Candace was the only one that I've felt I could share almost everything with. But she's not here. And I definitely shouldn't be without a therapist. I think I would be okay for a while, but then at some point I would need one.

"And we don't want to wait until it's too late. Right now you're doing really well and we want you to continue to get better," my dad adds in.

They both look at me with wide eyes, like they're waiting for my response. 

"Okay. I'm fine with that," I tell them.

Neither of them say anything for a few seconds. They both look at each other in confusion.

"Really?" my mom asks.

"Really. I mean, I knew I'd need one at some point. I don't like having to go through the whole beginning process where they ask a bunch of questions to get to know me. But it's okay, I'll deal with it."

My mom smiles. "I-we-were so worried that you'd be against it and get upset."

I shake my head. "I'm different than a few months ago. I realize that I need help to keep myself from falling back to how I was." I feel my cheeks redden a little.

They were probably expecting me to flip out and get mad. They most definitely thought I would be completely against seeing a new therapist. That's the old Luke though. Not the present one. They need to realize that I'm changed for the better now. I'm not completely on board for a new therapist, but I'm willing to try. I understand their point of view. I definitely shouldn't go without a therapist for too long.

"I'm proud of you," my mom says, taking a bite of her pasta. "We have an appointment set up for Wednesday. Is that okay with you?"

I wasn't expecting this to happen so soon. I didn't even think that they already would have picked out a therapist for me. 

I nod nervously. "Yeah, totally fine."

*

I follow my dad into the waiting room like I have many times before. It's Wednesday. I'm getting a new therapist. We'll see if I have to get a new new one next week.

I walk up to the front desk. It's weird not seeing Delilah sitting behind there to check me in. There's not a familiar face here. 

"Hi, how can I help you?" the lady asks me.

"I'm here for an appointment with... uh..." I turn to my dad, already having forgotten the therapist's name.

"Dr. Clark," my dad tells the lady.

She smiles and types something into her computer. "Luke Hemmings?" she asks, looking away from the computer screen and glancing up at me.

"Right, that's me."

"Okay. You'll just need to fill out these forms, and you can bring them to me when you're done." She smiles and hands me a clipboard and pen.

I sit down and fill out the forms. It's just like every other form I've had to fill out. It's become second nature to me almost. I haven't had to do this in a long time though. The last time I did it was the first time I met with Candace. 

I finish the forms and give them to the lady at the front desk. She tells me Dr. Clark will be out soon, and within a few minutes, I hear someone call my name.

"Luke Hemmings?"

I stand up from my chair and walk over to the man that's smiling at me. 

"Hi, Luke. I'm Dr. Clark. Nice to meet you! You can just follow me down the hall," he says.

"Okay," I say quietly, suddenly unsure of what to say.

"Here we are," he says, turning into a room towards the end of the hall.

I follow him inside and sit across from him in a plush chair. I look around the room. There's no whanda painting here. I miss that. It feels strange not looking straight ahead at that painting. I never did figure out what it was supposed to be.

There's a dart board on the wall and some games on a table in the corner. There's a smiley face rug, which is kind of creeping me out, and a cliche poster of a cat dangling from a tree saying "Hang in there." It's the typical poster that can be found in almost any therapist or guidance counselors office.

"So, Luke, I'm just going to ask a few questions to get to know you," Dr. Clark says, bringing my attention to him.

"Okay."

"I see you've had a few therapists in the past," Dr. Clark says, looking at my files.

"Yeah." I've had more than just a few.

"And why is that?"

Typical therapist question. So vague.

"Why is what?" I ask.

He smiles. "What's the reason behind so many therapists?"

"Because I need a therapist? Isn't that kind of self evident? Like, you wouldn't go to the movies to buy a jacket. I'm not here to, like, throw a party or something."

Dr. Clark laughs. "No, Luke. I mean, why are you here? Tell me about yourself and what's brought you here."

"That's all in my files."

When I get nervous, I get defensive. I can slowly feel myself putting a wall up. I can't help it. I'm not comfortable right now, and I highly dislike getting new therapists. It's hard for me to open up to someone and share my whole story with them. 

"Yes, it is in your files. But I want to hear it from you."

"I'd really rather not get into the details."

He exhales slowly and smiles again. "That's fine. We can start off with some easier questions, how's that?"

I nod. "Much better."

"What grade are you in?"

"I dropped out. That's also in my files."

He flips through the papers. "Hmm... I see that it is. Do you have a job?"

"I did. I was a waiter. It didn't last long though."

"And why's that?"

"Because I moved back here."

He leans back and nods. "Where were you living previously?"

"In Maine."

"America?"

"Yeah. With my dad. But we're both here now."

"And what about your mother?" he asks, scribbling something down on his notepad.

I clear my throat. "Uh, she's here. That's why we moved back. She was diagnosed with, um, cancer." I nervously bite my lip and look around the room.

He stops writing and looks up at me. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

I nod. I never know what to say in response to someone telling me they're sorry.

"Now it says here you have selective mutism? You seem to be speaking just fine."

"Yeah. I started talking again a few months ago."

"And when did you stop speaking?"

"Last year." I rub my nose and bounce my leg, getting more nervous.

"Why did you stop talking?"

I stare at Dr. Clark. He's looking at me intently, tilting his head to the side while waiting for my response. His tie is slightly crooked and there's a small pen mark on his hand. I'm stalling, trying to find something to say so I don't need to tell him. But I know I'll need to tell him at some point, so might as well get it over with.

"My girlfriend died," I tell him.

He nods and writes more down. 

"Is that when you started seeing therapists?"

"Yeah."

"Was that-"

I cut him off. "That's what started everything. I stopped talking, I got depressed, I got angry, I got severe anxiety. That was the beginning. Does that answer all of your follow up questions?"

I knew he would ask those because that's what everyone asks. It's easier to just get that all out of the way and off my chest so it doesn't have to drag on any longer.

"Almost. What made you start talking again?"

I pick at the hem of my shirt while I respond. "I met this girl, Delilah, she helped a lot. Her younger sister, Lucy, did too. They're the reason I'm talking."

"And this girl, Delilah, are you dating?"

I feel my cheeks heat up. "Yeah." 

He smiles. "That's good. Is she here or in Maine?"

"She's in Maine."

He frowns slightly. "Do you have friends here?"

"Yeah." I think about Calum. He's it. I have a friend here. One. Singular. It's better than none though. Calum is great, too.

Dr. Clark asks me a few more questions, nothing too personal though. He's already asked all of those. He asks me the basics, like things I like or any hobbies I have. The beginning is always the hardest part. Having to tell someone new everything about you and all of your problems is hard. But Dr. Clark isn't too bad. He's not Candace, but he's not terrible.

After an hour, the session is up and I can leave. Dr. Clark tells me he looks forward to seeing me again, and I can set up another appointment at the front desk if I want to.

I do. I might as well keep going. I don't want to have to do this all over again with another therapist next week. 

As we're walking out, my dad stops and turns to me.

"Luke?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"If you don't want to continue with this, you don't have to. I just want to make sure you know that. There's plenty of other therapists we can try."

"No, I liked him."

"Are you sure? You seem kind of quiet and nervous."

"I'm sure. You'd know if I didn't like him. I would've complained."

My dad laughs. He puts his arm around my shoulder and smiles. "Good for you, bud. I know this is all difficult, but you're handling it well. You're turning into a great young man."

I MET 5SOS ON THURSDAY!!! I'M GONNA MAKE A VIDEO ON MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL (callmeashley98) SOON :)

I hope you're all liking my merch. If you buy a shirt, tweet me a pic of you wearing it!! It's on Ebay, just search singsongash :)

also, I wanna start a new story but idk if I want it to be a fanfic. would you still read it if it's not a fanfic?

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-ashley