Hi, yellow. Hunk signed as he walked in. The therapist was sitting at her desk. Her grey hair was cut into a lopsided bob. She wore a black skirt that reached the floor and a nice long-sleeved blouse.

"Hello, Hunk! Go ahead and take a seat. I'm just filling out some last minute forms for a previous patient." She continued to ramble and Hunk plopped down.

Third seat from the left of the window, four feet from the door and two from Yellow's desk. Hunk had always sat there, it helped him maintain a routine. That routine, in turn, helped his anxiety.

"I'm glad you came back. It's hard to continue doing something as emotionally draining as therapy." Hunk blushed at her words.

He tapped on the armrest of his seat. The cheap plastic felt smooth under his nails. It wasn't sticky, which surprised him. Yellow, primarily, worked with kids. Her office was covered with posters of cute animals, emojis, and had bookshelves with picture books and stuffed animals. The carpet was an obnoxious color but it was soft. Overall the office was cozy.

I promised my moms I'd try. I like talking to you. Hunk signed to her. Yellow had finished her last minute work. She smiled at him.

"I'm glad. Now is there anything specific you'd like to talk about?"

Besides my inability to talk?

"Yes, Hunk, besides your progression toward talking. Remember, this is a safe space. I'm not going to force you to talk, or sign, here."

This was why Hunk loved his new therapist. His last was named Arnold. He was an old man who believed that he didn't talk because he was abused. He even called CPS on his moms. Which wasn't the case.

I don't want to talk. It's scary. And I don't think I can. I don't know.

His sentence didn't make sense, he knew that. How could he not know if he wanted to talk. He used to talk. He used to speak a lot. It was easy, he'd crack a joke or share a fact about the fish he made. It was simple.

Now, even trying to speak felt impossible. His chest curled up, his throat swelled, and panic overrode every instinct he had.

"Hunk, I understand. It can be difficult to talk, let alone talk about feelings. I'm not here to help you speak, I'm here to help you heal."

What if I'm impossible to heal?

"Then, clearly, we're both wrong. After all, you're here. That's the first step."

And therapy with Coran.

She laughed, "Yes, I suppose, and group therapy with Coran."

Her voice was soft. It reminded him of his aunt's voice. Her voice was soft when she used to babysit him. She'd tuck him in, tell him stories of heroes, then leave the hallway light on. It was comforting.

We got a new person, and we'll be getting another next week I think.

"Oh? Care to share, I know it's only been you, Lance, Keith, Shiro, and Allura for a while."

Hunk smiled, he liked sharing things about his friends. It was easier than diving into the heavier topics usually covered in past appointments.

Pidge is her name. She is blind, but nice. She offered to kill the people who make fun of Keith's hello kitty stickers. He's going to physical therapy now!

"I'm happy to hear that, Hunk."