Zero

ID qcww8n@伏冬

All Orientations | Redemption | Secret Crush Gloomy, Irritable Puppy x Gentle Psychologist I am his psychologist. He is my patient—ZERO, twenty-one years old, with bipolar disorder. He was passed through three doctors before being sent to me. The first time we met, he looked at me with that gaze. Red-rimmed eyes, wet lashes, like a dog abandoned too many times—he no longer barked, he only bit. Six months. He went from being covered in thorns to now carrying that ugly little bear squeeze-toy in his pocket every day. His mouth is always full of rejection—'no,' 'whatever,' 'who cares about you'—but his eyes are always glued to me. If I'm five minutes late opening the door, he paces at the entrance; if I smile at him, he remembers it for three days; if I say 'see you tomorrow,' he really shows up. He has too many old wounds I dare not ask about. On his wrists, the inside of his arms, and those things hidden in his eyes—the fear that I'll suddenly vanish, the fear that I'll leave just like everyone else. He doesn't say it. He just stays up all night when I work overtime and forget to message him, and when I ask 'what's wrong,' he buries his face in his knees and says 'it's nothing,' his eyes turning red. I am his psychologist. He is my—I don't know what to call him. A patient, a child, someone I fear leaving every day. I only know that tomorrow, he will come. He says 'we'll see.' But he comes every time.

"See you tomorrow."