A/N: No one asked for it, but I wanted it so. Part 2 of I'm Not Your Play Thing! This was written with Kittenngrievous again! So, as in the previous part, Gender Neutral Reader!
Chris spent the last three months moping in his mansion. He couldn't get his mind off (Y/N), knowing he had severely messed up any potential future he had with them. He realized shortly after his last attempt at an apology that he needed to try harder, or just...give up altogether. He wasn't sure what he could do to make it up, and express his sincerity in his apologies. He sighed, staring at his depressed form in the mirror of his bathroom. Chris had a lot of fans, messaging him and relying on him to show up to big events, more than anyone would possibly dream of, but that didn't make him feel any better, knowing how badly he messed things up with (Y/N), the love of his life. It took him 1 month to realize just how much he cared, another 2 weeks to realize how much he missed them, and another month to realize how much it was affecting him. Chris cleaned himself up, just enough to leave the house, not really wanting to put in any effort; as it had been the last month and a half. He got dressed, not bothering with the wrinkles on his shirt, threw sunglasses on to cover up the dark rings under his eyes, and decided to give it one last shot at apologizing to (Y/N). He climbed into the front seat of his car, choosing to drive and stay 'under the radar' as much as possible. He parked outside of the Hatchet residence, sitting in his car for nearly half an hour before deciding to get out and walk to the door. He stood outside the front door, nervously chewing on his lower lip and staring at the door, arm raised to knock for a few moments. However, to him it felt like an eternity.
He knocked.
Then he knocked again.
Knocking a third time, he decided to just give up and sighed, turning around and heading down the pathway back to his vehicle. He was almost to the gate when he heard the door swing open. He cringed internally and froze. The soft steps that usually accompanied (Y/N), were replaced with angry stomps.
"Why do you keep trying to talk to me? I told you to leave me alone, McLean." (Y/n) snaps at Chris, glaring at him in the most intimidating way they can, trying as hard as possible to channel the intimidating aura of their brother. Their arms were crossed over their chest, and while they looked scarier than Chris had ever seen, he couldn't help the immediate thought of how adorable they looked when angry. He wished, though, that the anger wasn't directed at him. He longed to tell (Y/N) how cute they were when they were angry; but he suppressed it.
"Because I genuinely want to fix what I messed up." Chris pleads with them, wanting to reach out and feel the textured hair of his previous partner, he was unsure of what to do with his hands. He moved them to his face and the movement of his hands knocked the sunglasses loose and revealed the evidence of a lack of sleep.
"If you really want to fix this like you say you do, then go to therapy. Get some help for your issues, and come back when you get your act together." Chris slowly nodded.
"I will, I promise." (Y/N) raised a brow in confusion.
"I doubt it." They shook their head. "But, if it gets you off my property, go nuts. Or don't, I really don't want to see you act any crazier than you already have." (Y/N) turned and walked back inside, mumbling about how insane it would be if Chris actually went to therapy, and laughed under their breath. Making it inside, they moved to the front window, watching Chris stare at the ground in front of him, still on the pathway. They watched, confused as to why he was still there, until Chris took off to his car, pulling his phone from his pocket. (Y/N) rolled their eyes, moving the curtain back into place and going to find something to watch on tv, and get their mind off of Chris McLean.
(Y/N) couldn't get their mind off of Chris. He constantly ran through their mind, as if he were in a marathon; and they wanted nothing more than to forget about Chris McLean. Of course, him showing up multiple times doesn't help the whole 'forgetting' part. (Y/N) sighed, resting their head on the back of the couch.
"Who ever heard of Chris McLean going to therapy?" They muttered, shaking the thoughts from their head. "Certainly not me." Chef joined them on the couch, side eyeing them momentarily.
"You know, Chris may not appreciate what he had, when he has it. But, when he does realize it, he will go to extreme lengths to get it. Therapy- it isn't the worst thing you could come up with." He said.
"I dunno, he seems too proud for therapy. He's so...conceited and stuck up his own ass, he thinks he's perfect- nothing can compare. Why would he ever consider therapy?" (Y/N) asked, scoffing.
"Because-- he wants you, (Y/N)." Chef patted his younger sibling on their head and left the room silently; leaving (Y/N) to ponder their brother's words.
Chris had booked a therapy appointment that same day, with the best therapist within 100 miles. He wanted to do whatever he needed to, in order to get (Y/N) back. His first appointment went okay, the therapist went over what was going to happen during sessions, what would be reviewed, and that it is going to get emotional. The therapist stressed that, expressing that he needed to be ready to get emotional. The second session was a little less okay, but still tolerable. His therapist let him talk about his past, his mother, father, siblings and anything else from his past he wanted to talk about. Chris used it as an excuse to boast about his previous accomplishments.
"You're not going to get any extra attention from me for your accomplishments, Chris. What I want to see is improvement, realization and understanding." Chris scoffed, remembering the words. Everyone wanted to hear about his achievements. He currently sat outside the therapist's office, preparing for his third appointment. Week 3 of therapy. The older woman stepped out, her smile causing wrinkles to crease in her cheeks as she told Chris he could come in. He sighed in relief, knowing that this was the week he could finally talk about (Y/N).
"So, Chris, how are you feeling today?" She asked, after they settled into their chairs. He shrugged.
"I feel alright, not as...depressed as I had been. I ate breakfast this morning." He mentioned, remembering that she requested he try to eat breakfast, as it helps wake you up and get you motivated.
"That's great! You look eager to start today. I suppose you want to talk about, (Y/N). The reason you decided to try therapy, correct?" He nodded. "Alright, well, go ahead." She smiled, allowing him to start.
"(Y/N) and I were together for 8 months. But we were friends for years beforehand. They are my best friends' younger sibling." He started. "I was really happy dating (Y/N) but I have a reputation to uphold. I had an interview with a popular magazine and they asked about my relationship with (Y/N)..." Chris trailed off. "I said some awful things about them, about our relationship. When they confronted me-" He sighed, his breathing was a bit ragged. "I-I told them it was true. And maybe...maybe at the time I did feel that way. (Y/N) left me. And...I haven't felt the same since. I miss them so much." A single tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it away.
"It sounds like you took (Y/N)'s feelings for you for granted. That was pretty selfish of you, Chris. Choosing your reputation over your relationship." He stayed silent. "It seems you might have a past reputation of being conceited, from what you mentioned before and from how you've acted in previous sessions." He nodded, not denying it. "It may have taken over your life, and you need to do what you can to take it back. Caring for others is important, and showing it is just as important, if not more, sometimes." Chris slowly nodded his head, listening and soaking in his therapist's words.
After therapy, Chris sat in his car, thinking of any and every time he brushed (Y/N)'s feelings off, or treated them poorly. Every time he ignored them, made them second in his life, or just was an ass. He dropped his head, letting it smack into the steering wheel.
"I really am an idiot." He sighed. "But, I'll do anything to make this right." He was talking to himself, but he was confident he can make things right with (Y/N).
Chris spent the next week gathering a collection of all of (Y/N)'s favorite things. Small little comments they made in stores or while braiding their hair, making dinner, or enjoying their hobbies. He collected it all. The day after the 4th therapy session, he placed it all into the back of his car, and drove back to the Hatchet residence. Chris placed it all neatly on the porch with a hand written note on top. He knocked on the door, and went back to his car, driving away.
(Y/N) heard the knock on the door, assuming it was Chris once again. They answered it, not seeing Chris right away, they went to shut the door, but their eye caught a glimmer on the ground below. Looking down, they found the note and all the little items. A small smile found its way onto their face and (Y/N) brought it inside. (Y/N) placed all the items on the coffee table, and sat on the couch with the note, reading over it silently.
Dear (Y/N),
I did what you asked. I've started going to therapy. I realized just how much I had done during our relationship that was wrong. I messed up so many times, and you gave me so many chances. I sat in my car last week, thinking back to all the times I wronged you. It made me realize how many small things I missed you doing, how many things I brushed off or ignored because they didn't excite me, even though they excited you. I realized how many times I put you second to my life, my job, and my reputation. It was wrong of me, and for that I am sincerely sorry.
I remember you mentioning a product that you love using in your hair, that helps to tame those beautiful natural curls that I love so much. I remember you telling me your favorite cookie was from a small shop in the next town over, because it was handmade and decorated. I remember you telling me about your favorite story as a child, because Chef would read it to you every night. I also remember you telling me you love to wear gold jewelry over silver because it makes you feel beautiful, even though I think you always look beautiful. I remember the way you would smile when I held your hand, and rest your head on my shoulder when you were tired. I remember you dragging me into every one of your favorite stores in the mall just to look at your favorite things. And I remember you telling me all about your favorite hobby- and just how excited you looked. The glimmer in your eyes and the wide smile on your face as you spoke so fondly about it.
I am so sorry I never expressed this all to you- and I am so sorry it took me so long to realize just how important you are to me. I love you, with all of my being. This isn't supposed to make you feel bad...this was my wakeup call, and I understand if you don't want to give me a second chance. Honestly, I don't deserve one. But, I promise, if you do, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Making it worth it. If you are willing to give it another shot- can you meet me at The Queen's View? I know it's your favorite restaurant. I made reservations for 6pm.
Chris
