Chapter Text
The first thing Ryue noticed was the silence. Not the kind that came from empty rooms, but the kind that pressed in too close, like something was waiting for him to react first. It made most people talk just to fill it. Ryue didn’t. He leaned back in the stiff chair, arms crossed, gaze drifting lazily around the room like he was bored instead of trapped. “Wow,”he muttered, voice dry. “Real welcoming atmosphere. you guys trying to cure me or put me in a horror movie?” The door opened a second later, right on cue.
“Good,” Ryue added without looking up. “Thought I’d have to start talking to myself.”The man who stepped in didn’t react immediately, and that was the second thing Ryue noticed. Most people did. They flinched, got irritated, snapped back something. Anything. This one didn’t. Valentin closed the door behind him with quiet precision, already holding a clipboard like it mattered more than the person in front of him.
“Ryue Yukishiro,” he said evenly. “You’re early.”
Ryue snorted. “Yeah, I love being here. Highlight of my day.”
“No sarcasm noted,” V replied, completely straight. Ryue paused, then smirked, something sharper slipping into his expression. “…Oh, you’re gonna be fun.”
The sessions started like any other, at least on the surface. Questions, observations, silence when Ryue refused to answer properly. “How have you been feeling?” V asked.
“Fantastic. 10/10. Would spiral again.”
“Sleep patterns?”
“Exist.”
“Any intrusive thoughts?”
“Define ‘intrusive.’” V wrote something down, calm and detached, and Ryue leaned forward slightly, trying to catch a glimpse.
“You writing ‘insufferable’ or ‘charming’? Be honest.”
“Neither,” V said.
“Wow. Cold.” It should have been easy. That was what Ryue expected. Push buttons, get reactions, control the pace. Except it didn’t work. V didn’t rise to anything, didn’t snap, didn’t even seem particularly interested in being provoked. He just adjusted, every single time.
“You deflect with humor,” V noted one day.
“No, I entertain,” Ryue shot back.
“You avoid direct answers.”
“You ask boring questions.”
“You prefer control in conversation.”
“I prefer not being psychoanalyzed like a lab rat.” There was a pause, brief but deliberate.
“…Yet you continue attending.”
Ryue smirked. “Maybe I like the attention.” V didn’t respond immediately, just wrote something down again. “Noted.” That was the problem. V noticed everything, and worse, he didn’t judge it. Didn’t react emotionally, didn’t push back in any satisfying way. He just recorded, like Ryue was something to be studied instead of understood. It should have made it easier to dismiss him. It didn’t.
“Why do you keep coming back?” Ryue asked one session, sharper than usual, the question slipping out before he could dress it up as a joke. V didn’t look up from his notes.
“You’re assigned to my care.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Silence stretched for a moment before V spoke again. “You continue showing up. That suggests intent.” Ryue rolled his eyes, leaning back again.
“Or I’m bored.”
“Possible.”
“You’re really not gonna give me anything, huh?”
“No.”
It should have annoyed him more, but it didn’t. Not in the usual way. Weeks passed, and something shifted, subtle enough that Ryue didn’t notice it at first. He started answering more questions. Not all of them, and not honestly, but more. “You’ve been sleeping better,” V noted.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m noting improvement.”
“Yeah, don’t get used to it.” But V did. That was the issue. He got used to the sessions, changed the pacing, adjusted the tone. Less rigid, more targeted. “You hesitate before deflecting now,” V said once.
“Wow, you’re really proud of that, huh?”
“It indicates progress.” Ryue scoffed, but there was less bite behind it.
“Don’t make it weird.” It kept happening, small changes stacking on top of each other. Ryue talked longer without realizing it, stayed quieter when he should have been provoking something, didn’t push as hard. And V noticed all of it, tracked it, encouraged it just enough to keep it going. “You’re improving,” he said one session, without hesitation. Ryue froze for half a second, something in his expression flickering before he covered it with a laugh. “Wow. Gold star for me?”
“It’s observable.”
“Careful,” Ryue said, leaning back again, gaze narrowing slightly. “You’re gonna make me think you like me.”
“That’s not relevant.”
“Ouch.”
But something about that answer stuck—not what V said, but what he didn’t. The next session felt different, even if Ryue couldn’t place it right away. Same room, same setup, same questions, but something underneath it had shifted.
“How have you been sleeping?”
“Fine.”
“How many hours?”
“Enough.”
V wrote something down, and Ryue frowned slightly.
“You already asked me that last time.”
“I’m tracking consistency.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t repeat questions before.l There was a pause, brief but noticeable.
“Patterns change.” That didn’t sit right. Over the next few sessions, it got worse. Questions looped. Topics repeated. Progress stalled not completely, but just enough to feel wrong, like something was holding it back on purpose.
“You said I was improving.”
“I did.”
“Then why does this feel like we’re going backwards?” V didn’t answer immediately.
“…Progress isn’t linear.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Ryue muttered. “But this feels intentional.” Another pause.
“You’re resistant to stability.” Ryue blinked, caught off guard. “That’s not—”
“You engage more when challenged.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“It aligns with your behavior.” Ryue stared at him, something clicking into place, not fully but enough to make his chest feel tight in a way he didn’t like.
“…You’re messing with it, with me.” he said slowly. V didn’t react. “Adjusting things so I don’t actually improve.” Silence.
“That’s absurd,” V said calmly.
“Is it?” Ryue leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “Or is it convenient?”
“For what?”
“So I don’t leave you.” That got a reaction small, almost nothing, but real enough that Ryue caught it.
“…You’re making assumptions,” V said.
“Yeah?” Ryue tilted his head, something sharper creeping into his tone. “Then prove me wrong.” Silence stretched longer this time, heavy in a way that felt deliberate.
“…You’re still here,” V said finally. Ryue’s smirk faltered for just a second before snapping back into place. “…Yeah,” he muttered. “Funny how that works.”
The session ended like normal, too normal, like nothing had shifted at all. But as Ryue left, something stayed with him, a thought he couldn’t quite shake. Not annoyance, not curiosity, something sharper. Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure who was in control of the situation anymore