((Back from the dead, for your reading pleasure, I bring you a re-written & edited version of this story and, later, a continuing chapter. Not sure how long this story will end up being & no guarantees it will ever be finished, but I am making an attempt because this is a plot I'm quite fond of. Enjoy!))

"Hola, Lovino. It's very nice to meet you, although it would be nicer under better circumstances si? My name is Doctor Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. If you'd like to go ahead and lay on the lounge, feel free. I have more pillows if you need them. Now, would you mind telling me a little bit about yourself?"

How the hell did I end up here? In this stupid office, laying on this stupid lounge, staring at this stupid Spaniard and his stupid fake smile...this whole thing is just.. well.. stupid. My brother over-reacted. I never would have been able to do it. Had he not burst into the room, I probably would have stopped, gone over all my options for the millionth time, then gotten frustrated and given up.

They wouldn't listen to me, the bastards! They insisted I was ill, and that I needed help. The only thing I need help with is getting the idiots to shut up about my 'problems'. What business is it of theirs anyway?

This is stupid. The bastard is just sitting there in his fancy clothes, with his legs crossed, a fancy silver clipboard in one hand, a fancy black pen in the other...just smiling at me. Not talking, just waiting. And smiling.

I don't want to be here. I want to go home, but they won't let me. Ludwig, the stupid potato bastard, and Feliciano dragged me here. They said that until I get better, they're going to make me come at least three times a week. Feliciano took another job to help pay for the sessions. Ludwig borrowed money from his brother Gilbert, who they had to call to help wrestle me into the car this morning.

I'm perfectly fine! I don't need to see damn therapist because I was a little depressed...

Okay fine. So I'm very depressed, all right? Sue me! Everyone contemplates suicide at some point, don't they? I mean, they at least think about it. About what it might be like, what might make then want to do it, how they would do it if they had to...some people just...decide to go through with it.

But not me! Like I said, I never would have been able to pull the trigger.

God dammit! That stupid therapist...

"Will you quit fucking staring at me you bastard? It's creepy as hell!"

The man just chuckles and shakes his head...what dumbass reaction is that to being called creepy?

"There's no need for that language, Lovino. I understand that you're upset, but you don't need to yell at me. I'm simply here to help. Would you like for me to start by example then? Fair enough. Hm...where shall I begin? Well, you already know my name. I graduated from Yale with a major in psychology. Top of my class, would you believe it? I've wanted to be in a profession like this since I was little. Always had a knack for helping people.."

This idiot is actually one of Gilbert's best friends. He was highly recommended by the idiot. I've never met him before today, but he's very unimpressive. That handsome smile, tan skin, bright green eyes, kind demeanor, captivating accent...nothing remotely interesting..

The idiot just keeps chattering on for one minute, two.

"There, now you know more about me! So, tell me about you!"

"You don't need to know about me."

The bastard- Antonio- laughed, a pure, heart stopping laugh, shaking his head again. "I'm afraid I do. That's kind of the whole point of this, no? There's no need to be so stubborn. Come on! What are some things you like to do? Eat? Places to go? Things you've always wanted to do? What drives you? What makes Lovino, Lovino?"

I scowled, fully determined not to cooperate. I don't need these damn sessions and I don't need my idiot baby brother and his dumbass boyfriend telling me what to do. If they want to waste their money, fine. But I'm not going to make it worth their while.

"Che palle, it doesn't goddamn matter, I'm not coming back."

Antonio pouted and my stomach flipped..no, wait. No it didn't. It didn't!

"Lovino, please. I really want to know, even if you don't come back again. I'm still interested in hearing about you."

"Like hell you are. It's your job to know, but you're not interested. Nobody really is. Why don't you go talk to Feliciano? He's much more interesting. Everyone else thinks so."

He nods and scribbles something on his clipboard.

Dammit. Not 5 minutes in and I've said too much already.

"I sense a bit of bitterness there, Lovino."

"Damn right you do. I'm just a bitter asshole, that's what everyone says."

"Do they really?"

"Um, yeah. I've only heard it every damn day of my life." I snap angrily. Why am I telling him anything? He just seems so easy to talk to, even if I am only griping...

"Surely you must be exaggerating." There's a smile in the damn bastards eyes.

"Not at all, bastard." Ok, so maybe I was a little bit.

He scribbled something down before looking back up at me, still fucking smiling.

"Please, Lovino, tell me something about yourself! What kind of friends do you have?"

I stilled, a frown marring my features. Friends...I wish I had at least one...I'd be happy even if I only had one friend.

"I...I don't..." I stammer, feeling heat rise to my face. He sits there quietly, obviously documenting my expressions, patiently waiting for me to continue, meanwhile I'm mortified at the prospect of telling this handsome, proper bastard that I'm a bitter, lonely loser with no friends.

Finally, I sighed heavily and looked out the window, my eyes locking on a blue bird in the tree just outside. I can't bring myself to look at him as I whispered, "I don't have any friends."

I held my breath as I waited for him to say something rude, like 'of course you don't, you're clearly an asshole!', but he didn't. After a moment of silence I chanced a look up at him to see that he had frowned, looking genuinely sorry, and still ridiculously good looking.

"Oh my, now that's tragic. Everyone should have friends! What about your brother?"

I snorted, shaking my head. "Family doesn't count as friends. He has to like me. We're related."

Sometimes I was certain that was the only reason Feliciano liked me. If we had met on the street he'd want nothing to do with me.

Antonio tutted softly, making another quick note. "I think, Lovino, that you are a very sweet person hiding under a grumpy exterior and it just takes awhile for people to get through it. I actually see quite a few patients with similar dispositions. It's really a shame that you feel you have no friends." Then, the bastard smiled.

"I'll be your friend, if you like Lovino! I know it might not be professional, being friends with patients, but we won't let that get in the way. So, what do you say? Will you be my friend?"

I looked up, startled. For a second, I thought he was joking. Pulling my leg. Making fun of me. Maybe he was just saying that to make me feel better. But then I looked into those kind, beautiful green eyes, and I knew.

He was being completely honest. For the first time in my life, I had a friend. Suddenly, I wanted to tell him everything.

In less than 10 minutes, this damn friendly Spaniard had cracked the stone shell locked around my heart.

Don't tell anyone I said this, but I almost started crying right then and there.

((Well there it is! Check my profile for updates, I have listed on there what stories I plan to continue and which ones I don't, along with a bit of other info and if anything changes that's where I'll mention it. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!))