Loving Dior (Futanari)

"i'm weak-i have PTSD"

HAPPY HALLOWEEN GUYS!

Charlie's P.O.V

I was standing outside like some physiologist's office while Dior is currently in a meeting with them. I didn't understand as to why she wanted to do this and instead talked about her feelings with me and let's get through this together but she wanted to do this and so I had no other reason but to accept it.

She was going through a rough time and—and I needed to be there for her. I was super glad that the office exit door was directly outside of nowhere so I was able to exit the office after dropping her off and I was able to smoke up a storm.

Through the recent weeks I had taken up smoking again. And why may you ask? Because I was stressed, stressed out of my fucking mind that I didn't know what to do. Dior also seemed to be getting worse but also better, if that made any fucking sense.

I wanted to scream at the world, scream at the sky as I ran my fingers through my hair. What were they talking about? Is it serious? Do I need to look up what she's going to tell and what the physiologist had told her? Because I'll do it and—

"Let's go" a storming Dior says as she walks past me and towards my parked car on the curb. I stood there for a minute because I didn't know how to react and didn't expect this reaction from her but once I got my bearings collected I dropped my nearly done cigarette and walked over to the car and towards the drivers side.

Once I got in, I sat in my seat and turned to her and before I had opened my mouth she spoke—

"Can we just go? Like we don't need to talk, just go" she urged or more like demanded. Normally I would listen and go but—I didn't. I didn't just want to be bossed around because she wouldn't let me try to understand her and also not explain her anger by what happened in there.

"No" I said and she looked towards me, I could sense she didn't realize I had said no or wasn't expecting it because she had a taken back look.

"I'm sorry, what? Charlie please let's go—"

"Not until you tell me what's going on? You're angry Dior, or upset and I understand what you've been going through but whatever was said in that office made you feel some type of way and—I'd like to know what" I said and I knew I was being bold but I couldn't help it, something was telling me that I needed to know now.

"Charlie, it's not that important. It was just some misunderstanding—"

"Between who? You and the psychologist? Do you need me to talk to them? Because if they had stepped over the line then" I paused when I saw her start to cry. It's when she feels so many emotions dealt with anger she starts biting her lip, looking away from me and balling up her fists.

"Dior—"

"He said that—I may have PTSD, or like been diagnosed with it" she says and I sat there with my hands on the steering wheel, trying to process it. PTSD. That stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder right? Well I mean I could see it, I didn't know it was something you could be diagnosed with though.

"Uh—diagnosed? I mean I think he's going a little bit over the top with being diagnosed with that" I said then took it back because she made a grunting noise and closed her eyes as she laid back in her seat. I sighed and reached over as I grabbed one of her hands in mine.

"Dior—I'm sorry baby. Listen—I—I know this could seem like a big thing now and you're like thinking about it a lot but just know—that I'll be here. We'll go through this together" I said and hoped that it was sweet, that she would let this go and—

"Are you sure?" She cuts me off as she asks me this and I only take it as her asking me if I was sure of getting through this together with her so I nod and lean in, gently kissing her lips.