did trinity santos — telling baran
(note: i'm not a professional. trinity's did experience is based on my own and research i've done. i'm open to respectful questions abt did in general, my did, and the au!) [DID Trin headcannons]
♡ Trinity and Baran had been dating for a few months now, finally settling into a routine. Finally getting used to balancing work and their relationship alongside their lives seperate from one another. there were still tough days, like when barans ex-husband has a family emergency and Omid ends up having to come over. Leaving Trinity sneaking out the backdoor to avoid being seen — but most days things are good.
♡ Safe, healthy relationships are unfamiliar to Trinity. They had always felt like something distinctly not for her, not something she deserved. But she'd been doing a lot of work with her therapist, and had been since she'd first recognized her feelings for Baran almost a year ago by now. She had less bad days where she felt she didn't deserve any of this happiness or grace, and more days where she could bask in the feeling of Barans love without feeling shame.
♡ However, with this security came the age old dilemma Trinity had been facing for a little over a decade at this point — does she tell Baran about her DID? Does she risk ruining this good thing, just to be open and honest? With most relationships, Trinity didn't think twice. She immediately decided no and moved on with her life. But Baran was different. Trinity trusted her in a way she hadn't trusted anyone since she was a teenager. And multiple of her parts had come forward either through journalling or therapy stating their wish to be known to Baran.
♡ At first, Trinity had just wanted to ignore it, but after a few very long sessions with her therapist — long enough that they left her drained enough to sleep for 8 hours straight afterwards — they'd decided to come up with a plan. The agreement was that if even after forming a plan, Trinity still didn't feel comfortable or ready enough to tell Baran, it wouldn't be pushed anymore unless she asked it to be. Something that gave her parts recognition of their wants, while also acknowledging Trinity's fears.
♡ Trinity really had expected to hate whatever plan formed. She really, really had. But the more she mulled over the idea, looked into other people's experiences late at night when she couldn't sleep, the more appealing it sounded. The idea of not having to lie and smile through dissociation, to not need to lie about amnesia, to not come to front mid date night, unaware of where she is or what is happening. To be known and potentially understood by Baran.
♡ And that lead to today. Trinity and Baran were on an unusual stretch of having three consecutive days off that aligned with one another, and were using it to spend some much needed time together. Work had been long the past few weeks, and it'd felt like they hadn't spent much time together at all. Trinity had been bringing her binder around with her in her bag for two weeks now, waiting for a time that felt right to tell Baran. She silently had been worried one of her parts would get tired of waiting and just do it themself, but thankfully that hadn't happened yet.
♡ They'd had a quiet morning, sleeping in for a little while before getting up and running some errands. Now, in the early afternoon, Trinity was officially getting restless. The pressure of telling Baran was officially too much, and Trinity needed it to be done with. Today. As soon as possible, really. Her therapist may later call this an impulsive decision, especially since she is almost certainly going to disregard almost all of the plan, but Trinity couldn't bring herself to care in the moment.
♡ “Baran, love, could I uhm— Could we talk about something? It's related to— to my therapy” The words feel heavy on her tongue, thick in her throat. Like she has to force them out through some imaginary blockage in her oesophagus. She absently picks at the skin around her nails as she watched Baran’s head lift from the book she'd been reading. Trinity watches anxiously as Baran places a bookmark in between the pages and sets it aside, sitting up straighter and shifting to make room for Trinity to sit.
♡ “Of course, Azizam. Is everything alright?” Baran’s tone is laced with a gentleness Trinity still isn't entirely used to hearing directed at her. Some days it brings her comfort, and others it brings anxiety. Today, it's a mix of both — the subtle reminder of Barans care for her tied with the reminder of what she may be about to lose. Trinity settles in the place next to Baran, leaning into her side and allowing an arm to be wrapped around her.
♡ “... I hope so. I just— There's some things I haven't told you. About— about what's wrong with me” Trinity knows it's bad phrasing the moment it leaves her mouth, can hear her therapists disapproving tone in her head “There's nothing wrong with you, Trinity. Your brain did what it felt necessary to survive. You're different, perhaps, but no more than I am compared to anyone else on the street, not really.” She can see the disapproval on Baran’s face, too.
♡ “Trinity—” Baran begins, eyebrows furrowing with concern. Trinity can hear her heartbeat in her ears, can feel the pumping of blood through her veins with each thump-thump. She knows that if she let's the focus turn to her self-depricating ways, she'll never tell Baran. And she needs to. So she hopes Baran won't mind being cut off, just this once.
♡ “I know— I know. Sorry. I just— um,” Trinity can't remember what she rehearsed with her therapist. She knows how the words felt in her mouth, but right now she can't acess them. Baran must notice her unease, because she gives Trinity a gentle squeeze, murmuring for her to take her time. It calms her slightly, brings her a few steps back from where she'd previous been tip-toeing the line of a anxiety and a panic attack. “... The therapist I see— she uhm. She specializes in trauma and... and dissociative disorders. I've been seeing her regularly since I was... 17 or so.”
♡ Trinity watches Baran process that new piece of information. She was aware, without details, of what happened to Trinity in her teenage years. But Trinity had never let her think it was anything more than maybe simple PTSD, not much different from Barans own. This is it. The part where Trinity has to make a choice. To tell the full truth, or to let the moment pass.
♡ “... Alright. And do you— do you have a dissociative disorder, Azizam?” The funny thing — “Are you aware that you refer to bizarre things as ‘funny’, Trinity? Do you have any idea why that is?” — is that Baran has no trace of anger on her face, despite just being told Trinity had been witholding information from her for months. She's just being... Normal. Normal, loving Baran. Unaware that her girlfriend is a fucking freak. Trinity nods.
♡ “... I've been formally diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder since my young adult years.” The next few moments happen for Trinity in a manner similar to how a viewer watching a tv show experiences the events. She is there, in the room, maybe even watching through her own eyes, but there's this dense of disconnection that makes it feel different. Untethered. She watches Baran’s expression shift to confusion for half a moment while her brain recalls whatever few run-ins it's had with the term. She watches it shift to that observant gaze that Trinity had hated at first, then again to something softer. Knowing.
♡ “I see. Thank you for trusting me with this, Trinity. I know this can't have been easy for you. I'm proud of you” Oh. Huh. That wasn't quite what Trinity expected. She wasn't scared. Why wasn't she scared? Or disgusted? Or uncomfortable? Why was she pulling Trinity into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of Trinity's head. Oh— She's crying. Trinity is crying.
♡ Trinity can't answer with absolute clarity how long she spent just crying in Baran’s arms. It could've been only a minute, or it couldn't have been several. She does know, however, that when she tethers herself back in the present, Baran still does not look anything but gentle. Not even the pitying gentle Trinity was familiar with from her brief stints in mental hospitals in her teenage years; real, caring gentleness.
♡ “‘M sorry. I uhm— My therapist helped me— put together some research articles that might help. Just incase you weren't— weren't very familiar with it. Or didn't um... believe in it, y’know?” Trinity sniffles, wiping her eyes as she sits up, remembering everything tucked inside her bag. She fumbles to pull out the binder and the packet full of articles she'd printed off a few weeks prior (Baran preferred physical media). She almost worries maybe she was doing too much, but Baran has that fond smile on her face.
♡ “Thank you, my love. I promise I'll look through these and do some research of my own.” Baran murmurs, pressing a kiss to Trinity's forehead as she takes the packet and carefully sets it aside. Trinity leans into the contact for a few moments before taking a slow, deep breath and opening the binder to the double page she'd been working on over the past month or so.
♡ “These... These uhm.. Are the— the parts who wanted to.. to make themselves known to you. Officially. As themselves—” Trinity mumbles, hesitantly handing over the binder for Baran to read. Her worry spikes again as she watches Baran read the short little introductions a few parts had written. But Baran let's out a soft, adoring laugh at the childish scrawl in the middle of one of the pages, and Trinity's heart settles fully for the first time in weeks. Safety really is a wonderful feeling.
♡ The next morning, Baran wakes up in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun is beginning to rise. The spot next to her is empty but still warm, so she makes her way downstairs, wiping the sleep from her eyes, in search of Trinity.
♡ In the kitchen, she finds her girlfriend sat at the kitchen table, a cup of hot chocolate cupped in their hands. There's an identical one placed in front of the neighboring seat, which Baran takes as the invitation it is.
♡ “Thank you. It's nice to finally meet you properly, may I ask your name?” Baran greets softly as she slips into the seat. They smile, an almost shy smile that Baran realises she recognizes, taking a sip of their hot chocolate before simply answering,
