Imagines and One-Shots (Book Two)

Broken Boy Meets Broken Girl (Luke Hemmings) - Part 3 *

Trigger warnings: Mentions of depression, attempted suicide

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One week later

​Another Tuesday, another group therapy session.

Everyone was telling you how happy they were that you'd come back – hugging you tightly and saying how much they'd missed you. You smiled slightly – you never realized they cared that much about you – before walking to your chair and waiting for the session to start.

Luke, as per usual, was the last to arrive, taking his seat across from you. Despite the fact that the two of you were clearly on better terms, neither of you made the leap to sit beside each other just yet.

"Alright, guys," Jessa said, "How about we just jump right into it today, huh?"

She asked a few people about their days before reaching you.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" she asked.

You caught a glimpse of Luke – his posture slouching as a sharp exhale left his nose. You knew what he expected you to say – he expected you to say what you always said – but you didn't say it that week. For the first time since you started group therapy seven months ago, you told everyone the truth.

"I'm..." you trailed off, looking at your lap but noticing Luke slowly sit up when he realized you weren't going to say what he thought you were. "I'm...scared," you whispered.

Everyone was understandably surprised – they never knew you to ever say anything but 'good' – as Jessa raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised as well.

"What are you scared of?" she asked cautiously, not sure what was going on in your head.

"Everything... I guess..." you admitted, "But mostly... I'm probably scared of...n-not being good enough..." You cleared your throat softly when your voice cracked, bringing your hand up to quickly wipe your eyes before any tears fell – of course, that didn't mean no one could tell you were crying.

"Who's making you feel that way?"

"Everybody, really..." you answered, your cheeks heating up slightly at knowing all eyes were on you, "My parents... My friends..." Your eyes briefly met Luke's concerned gaze as he was now sitting on the front edge of his seat. "Guys..." you finished the thought softly, looking back down at your fingers – and Luke knew you meant him. "No one wants a broken girl," you continued, mainly to yourself at this point, "I'm too much of a burden and I can barely take care of myself... Guys don't want someone with as much baggage as I have... No one wants someone so closed-off that they can't even ask them how they are without getting an honest answer. Everybody romanticizes this idea of finding someone broken and wanting to be able to fix them, but when they realize they're too broken, they don't want them anymore; They throw them to the curb and move on to the next less broken person they can find... That's what my parents say, anyway..."

"Why do they say that?" Jessa asked softly, everyone feeling the change of energy in the room.

"Because it's true, I guess," you barely shrugged, "They wouldn't say it if it wasn't... They... They love me... They wouldn't lie..." You swallowed again, desperately trying not to fall apart in front of everybody.

"Y/N," Jessa whispered, making you look up at her, "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" You knew what she was hinting at – she knew you were moments away from a breakdown and that you hated when other people saw you cry – so you gratefully got up and hastily left the room.