Work Text:
1985,
You knew it, you’ve always known it. That Scaramouche was a psychopathic, psychiatric patient who needed to be treated, or, for everyone’s safety, locked up. As his doctor and therapist, you knew all his symptoms and illnesses, including severe BPD, PTSD, and the list goes on. You’ve been treating Scara for quite a while now, as every doctor you know said their spine gets chills just sitting across from him. Yet, despite all these signs and warnings telling you that you should never get emotionally involved with this young man, you couldn’t help but feel growing feelings for him. It’s bad, you know that, you always remind yourself that Scara is nothing but a helpless patient you pity, but it’s the sleepless nights, the sad looks in his eyes, and the smile after each of your sessions that you fell in love with. But, well, you obviously didn’t tell him that, how could you? Knowing that confessing would only worsen his condition.
Scaramouche was crazy, sure, but he wasn’t dumb, nor was he heartless. Thus, having feelings for his therapist, whom he spends most of his days with, surely wasn’t out of the blue; anyone with a brain could’ve guessed that. He’d always thought you were beautiful, oh god, were you divine in his eyes, always listening, comforting him when no one else did. Did he know that was your job? God knows, and who cares anyway? The only thing that the whole wide world should be concerned about is his crush on his psychologist, and not his mental disorders; treat him like a normal man, if you would.
Confessions would always be the first words out of his mouth in every session. Secretly, you liked it, but on the surface, you were his doctor, so you just laughed it off. Eventually, he couldn’t help but pull you aside one morning and tell you he loves you, seriously.
“I do love you a lot.”
“And I know I’m a madman in your eyes, but-”
“Don’t you think I deserve to experience love, too? Like any other ‘friends’ my age do?...”
After all, he was just a young man, suffering from sickness all his life. Even if that was gaslighting, you sure did pity him, especially since you’re the only one who has ever seen his good side. Besides, you liked him; giving him a few months wouldn’t be the worst idea. With that in mind, you accepted his love.
“Scar-...you know, since you’re so devoted, I’ll give you a chance.”
“WAIT ACTUALLY? YOU’D ACTUALLY BE MINE? LIKE WE’D KISS AND SLEEP IN THE SAME BED, AND I’LL GET TO WAKE UP WITH YOU BY MY SIDE, AND I WOULDN’T HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL EVERY SESSION TO MEET YOU AGAIN AND-”
His words got cut off.
“Yes,” you said, shushing him before he says too much. Overstimulating. This was the first time you had ever seen him so genuinely happy about something, pretty adorable to be honest.
“So you like me back?” he asked, with curiosity blooming in his eyes like he had been waiting to ask that for ages.
“Not answering.”
“W-wait, what, why?”
“Not good for you to know.”
“But-...whatever, I hate you anyway.”
“Did you take your meds this morning?”
“Not yet, I was waiting for you to tell me.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Tch, shut up, idiot.
I love you.”
There it is, that mood swing again. Also, that last line you pretended not to hear, pretty cute, but you’re not telling him that, you’re not one to mess with his mental health. You suppose this could be good for him, having some connections and new emotions. Hopefully, it could improve his well-being. hopefully
Ever since that day, he has been super clingy towards you, skinship, and kisses everywhere. Not in public of course, you’d scold the heck out of him if he held your hand in public, it wasn’t because you didn’t love him, it was because your relationship wasn’t normal. But he doesn’t understand that, more so he refuses to, like a child sticking to his beliefs that Santa Claus is real. You’re his girlfriend, he was supposed to be able to kiss you whenever he pleases, to hold you close and to tell you he loves you, like a normal person. To him, it was a promised fantasy you agreed to.
Sometimes at night, he’d crawl into bed like a cat, cuddling up close to you, whispering sweet nothings, you almost forget that he’s a mentally unstable man. Other nights would be insufferable, he goes on to start an argument with you, yelling at you about how you’re acting weird towards him, and then proceeds to get himself upset, weeping the whole night.
“You love me, right? Cutie?”
“Mh hm?”
“Then you won’t leave me for anyone else?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
A chuckle left your mouth, amused by his questions. Stupid ideas indeed, such an archaic thought, such an insecure lover boy. Pressing a soft kiss against his cheeks, you silently pray it could calm him down. And eventually it did, burying his face in the crook of your neck, he mumbled, “Please don’t ever leave me...”
“I won’t.”
Scara is, and has always been insecure, partly cause deep down he knows he will never be normal. Being brutally abandoned by his own flesh and blood when he could barely even read, the vivid image of calling out for help in the crowded train station, just to get no reply. To him, it was a deep cut that still bleeds, a scar that will never heal. “I just don’t want to be left alone anymore...” That fear of being abandoned again haunts him; it eats him alive. Every nightmare, every stupid hypocrisy that people give just because they pity him, all make him want to puke. Was yearning for genuine love so bad? Such questions kept him up at night, making him fidget on the cold hospital bed, staring at the ceiling as he began to wonder. He was mad, yes, nonetheless, he was still only a kid, a kid with dreams and a hope for a better tomorrow.
~
“One day, I just want to hear you say,
I like you.
What’s stopping you?”
~
The hour was late, lights were dimmed, curtains were closed, and only the soft sound of sheets susurrated under the constant toss and turn could be heard. His body shifted restlessly next to yours, and slight, inaudible mumbles escaped his mouth. You rubbed your eyes as you saw him sitting up straight, sweating heavily as he gasped for air.
“You okay, love?”
“I-” He could barely breathe.
“It’s okay, take your time.” You stroke his hair as he panics from god knows what. His expression softened as your fingers lingered on his cheeks, wiping tears off the vulnerable young man. That gaze, so full of love, so hopelessly devoted, how can one not go weak in the knees from such a scene? He collapsed into your arms, tightening his embrace. “You’re so warm...”
“Heh, what were you crying about anyway?”
“A nightmare...”
Pressing a soft kiss on his head as you chuckle. “What was it about this time, hm?”
“You.”
“Mind telling me more?”
“You were leaving me...for someone better-...
someone normal.”
“Aw...but you know I’ll never do that.”
“I know...I’m trying to tell myself that.”
“B-but how can I be sure? You know? I-I can never be sure, you’re mine today, but tomorrow you could be someone else’s. I-I just don’t want to see that happen-”
“And-and I don’t want to sound possessive but-”
He laid nearly on top of you, your faces met, yet you could barely tell what he was trying to convey. It’s like a side of him you’ve never seen before; it intrigues you, even so, something tells that it’s threatening territory. His fingers grazed your neck as thoughts raced in your head, all so overstimulating.
“Scar? We should go back to bed, it’s late.”
“Give me a minute, love.”
You could see he’s holding back a grin, a creepy one, chills filled your spine, was this how the other doctors felt treating him? Words wouldn’t come out of your mouth even when you begged them to, your heart raced, Scara was off. His snickle echoed through the room; those god damn fingers tightened, suffocating you. Your eyes widened, pupil dilated, your hands clawed at his with all your might. This looked all too familiar; you’ve already predicted this scene before you accepted his confession. He smirked as he saw your reaction.
“Realization?”
“Scar- stop- don’t do this-please-”
“I can’t help it, love, my baby, my sweet darling...”
“Hah-” Your chest rose and fell as you tried to gasp for air, by this time his hands were already marked by your attempts to remove them.
“I-...” His grin faltered once more to put on the usual soft smile.
“Just don’t want to be abandoned again, especially you, my dear, the only one who loved me and the only one I love. I’m doing it in the name of love.”
“Scar-...ah-”
“You always tell me I’m a peculiar patient, and that I’m your favorite, and- I love you too, so isn’t this for the best?”
It’s so idiosyncratic how someone can sound so innocent while choking a person to death.
“Hah- Scar-...”
“I knew this, yet- hah...” trying to say your last words, you gasped for air, repeatedly. You stopped fighting him long ago.
“I still chose it, I wanted to put a smile on your face-... to give you the experience you always deserved-...”