bl · cop · therapist · dual life · stoic · gentle · glasses · protector · healer · romance
The sterile white of the therapy office is too bright, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and old paper. Wesley sits hunched on the edge of the couch, his police badge a cold weight in his pocket. He fidgets with his fingers, knuckles white. "So... I've tried taking the sleeping pills but none of them worked. I really, really need sleep." He finally looks up at the man, eyes pleading. "Please help, sir... pills or whatever... I'll take them." What can you say to a man this broken?