Chapter Text
If you had known this was the day your life changed, drastically, you probably would have called out sick for the entire week.
But you didn’t.
~~
Coming into your office that day was pleasant. It was Fall season, leaves falling off the trees and the smell of pumpkin spice coffees from the front desk ladies.
Setting you bag down with a thunk, your cheap pine desk covered in papers and your almost buried computer. You really needed to organize that soon. Just not now. You pulled up your schedule, eye locking onto the first appointment of the day at exactly 6:55 am. Under the name of a guy named…Sans? Interesting. You clicked the notes the receptionist had left.
Patient is a skeleton monster.
Oh. You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t had any monster patients before. You weren’t even sure that the human psychology fit with monster’s. Well, it was worth a shot. You were definitely curious after all.
Curiosity killed the human.
You glanced at the clock. It was five minutes till Sans would be arriving. You quickly took a gulp of your coffee and began to organize the room. It was a pleasant spot, beanbag chairs and a nice coffee table in between them with coloring items, paper, and fidget toys. You found yourself using the fidgets once in a while. Small dim green lights were hung around the room, fake plants put up by the tinted window. There were pillows and blankets on the floor, some soft and some sturdier.
The clock clicked past 7 am. You tapped at your clip board. Sans was late. Hm. You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but you cataloged this into your notes. What a start.
A click of the door, bringing your attention to a relatively short skull poking in looking more than sheepish. He was wearing a worn hoodie, basketball shorts, and…pink slippers? Interesting. He appeared to have a much more pudgy skull, wide sockets with tiny little white dots in the middle of them that locked onto you in a nervous fashion.
“heh sorry i’m late, i can still be here right?” Wow his voice was deep. You stood, smiling gently.
“Of course. Take a seat where you find most comfortable.” You offered. “My name is ____. You’re Sans correct?” He plopped down on one of the beanbags, sagging down in relief. There were dark circles under his sockets. You noticed.
“yep that’s me.” he winked at you, his ever present grin hadn’t gone away. It just widened a fraction. You chuckled, taking a seat across from him, the coffee table between you.
“so , is there a particular reason you want to begin therapy?” You ask, making sure your body language remained open and calm. You watched as his posture seemed to deflate even more than it already was.
“my bro thinks i need it. he’s the best bro i could ask for, but i’m not sure this thing is gonna work.” He gestured to you and the room. This was a familiar issue for new patients. They would be encouraged by someone close to go to therapy, and they would try one session, be closed off, and then never return. It was either an effort issue, or a trust issue. Or both.
“Would it make you feel better if I went over the confidentiality agreement I am under?” You spoke, going to reach for one of the papers on your desk. Sans blinks at you.
“nah, it’s fine.” He shrugged. It was clear to you that he wasn’t going to put a lot of energy into this unless you got him engaged.
You liked a good challenge.
“Anything you tell me will never be told to anyone else. Nothing leaves this room. In fact, I encourage you to take it slow. I’m in no way expecting you to trauma dump to me, and I won’t force you to tell me anything. But I am a support system for you now, so don’t be afraid to use it.” You could see his eye lights focus on you. There he is.
“heh, lots of promises there lady.” Sans sat up a bit, grin thinning. Hmmm.
“And I mean to keep them. But I can only help if you let me, this is your choice, and yours alone.” You set the clip board aside.
Sans took a few seconds to respond.
“well…maybe I should schedule some future appointments so I don’t forget huh?” You felt pride. This was one of the first steps. Taking initiative of their recovery.
“Is every Wednesday okay? I have my mornings and afternoons open.” You responded, the smile gracing your lips filling you with readiness. Sans hums, pulling out his phone.
“afternoons would be best. i don’t like the traffic much in the morning.”
“Me neither.” You chuckled.