GT one shots

😭

"It started a couple weeks ago," Keegan picked at the rubber band that hung loosely on his wrist, flicking it. It left a red mark and a slight burning sensation but it quickly faded. He did it again. "That when he started talking to me."

"His voice was really soft and shaky as if he was shy and scared. He also sounded distant, yet so close. Like he was," he paused, taking in a short breath. "small."

The therapist nodded, scribbling things down in her notebook. Mrs. Rayden was a kind 40-year-old, her brown hair always pulled in a tight bun. She always wore bright colors that felt rebellious against the gray and white room. She pushed her glasses up a tad to keep them from falling. Keegan can feel her eyes trying to observe his own. "Do you know what could have triggered this... voice?"

Keegan swallowed the thick lump in his throat, freezing up. "I-I tried to kill myself. H-He talked me out of it."

The only sound was the clicking of the clock on the wall. Mrs. Rayden had no emotion in her eyes as she took more notes. "Now, what did he say to you? Was he young?"

"He told me I had a-a lot to live for, th-that he'd visit me, be my friend," Keegan felt stupid. A voice talking to him, that was pathetic. He knew he was crazy, but saying and admitting it aloud... that was a whole different chapter. "I knew he wasn't real, just a coping mechanism but... he makes me happy."

She nodded as if understanding what he was going through, nobody knew what was happening. Hell, Keegan didn't even know what was real and what wasn't.

"He sounded around sixteen, maybe seventeen. Really close to my age and um," Keegan thought about the voice, it was soft and comforting. Sweet like honey but smooth as silk. Gentle. "Sometimes he comes w-when I'm crying, usually after. But he always comes to comfort me." He felt tears prick at his gray eyes.

"I-I came today," the therapist looked up, waiting for Keegan to speak. "Because I can't if he's imaginary or not."

Keegan's bottom lip quivered as embarrassment filled his body. He imagined a judgemental look when he met her gaze, but for the first time, they held emotion; kindness.

"Keegan," she began softly as if one wrong word would send Keegan to the edge. "Have you ever tried to approach this voice?"

Keegan shook his head, wiping at his eyes.

"N-No, I've never seen him, nonetheless tried to a-approach him," he said quietly, returning to his rubber band. "I'm scared to look, to find out I've been talking to myself the w-whole time, that I'm crazy. The guy whose only f-friend is a voice." He sniffled.

The therapist gave him a supportive smile. "I think you should go home and try to find the source of the sound. Then when you see there's nothing there, he'll stop talking to you."

Keegan didn't want the voice to leave, he wanted to say, shout even. But he didn't say that. Instead, he smiled sadly. "Logan, the voice's name is Logan."

---

"How was therapy, honey?" Keegan shrugged, glancing at all the passing trees with sharp eyes as he leaned against the cold window of the car.

"Same old, same old," he muttered to his mother, who was driving the car. "Just talked about school and stuff like that." He wasn't in the mood to talk, especially since he was soon going to get rid of his best- and only –friend.

Logan.

His mother sighed sadly, "How have you been, you feeling better?"

Keegan only nodded. His throat was dry and rough.