Prologue: Burn, baby, burn!
This was the worst day in my whole career.
No, wait. Scratch that; it was the worst day in my whole twenty-three years.
What did I get myself into? I mean, this patient was not normal, and I knew that it's the reason he's here because I'm supposed to help people that have problems with others or themselves, but this case was way above my average cases and-
God, why did I accept it? Not because the head chief of the police department had threatened me, certainly not with all the milk cream hanging on his moustache. That did notscare me.
No, I think I accepted because otherwise I would have lost my job and pay all the tickets the chief had so kindly ignored as I had helped him so much in the past with his gambling problems.
Gah! I hated my life and my career right now. I wanted to run out the door, become a social retard and hide in my house under my bed forever.
Seriously, if they thought I'd survive six whole months with that guy, I'd die before I even reached the first week of his treatment.
A sudden burning scent reached my nostrils and I looked terrified at the burning curtains. Oh. Fucking. Shit. Quickly scanning the room for an extinguisher, and finding one, I grabbed it and started to put the flames out.
Greeeaaat. Sora's going to kill me if he saw the curtains. He gave them to me for my birthday, a few weeks ago. I bet I'll have to apologize for hours again because his gift was ruined, even though it was not my fault.
Anyway, where was I? Oh right; forget what I said about dying the first week—it'll be after the second day.
I grumbled something and dropped the extinguisher on the ground before I sat back on my comfortable chair, picking up my notebook and my pencil, and cleared my throat:
"So, if I heard correctly from Chief Luxord, you have an unhealthy obsession with fire. Explain, please."
The patient laying in the long black couch turned his attention to me, his emerald eyes looking at me. A huge grin appeared on his face and something—like a bad hunch, I suppose—told me that the idea of running away wasn't so bad after all.
He stood up and stepped casually towards me, his flaming red hair bouncing with his movements, the grin never disappearing. He stopped just in front of me, and I looked up (he's taller than me, and I was sitting while he was standing) to see those eyes pierce through me. Even the teardrop tattoos under those emerald orbs caught my attention. (Who in their right mind got teardrop tattoos under their eyes?)
Without a warning, he lowered himself and placed his hands on each side of my seat, boxing me in but I didn't notice that as I was too busy looking in those shining, pretty eyes and I even thought they were becoming bigger.
And that's when I realized that no, his eyes weren't bigger, but that his face was too close to my liking.
His mouth hovered just above mine, and I seriously wanted to know why I couldn't move. This was getting quite intimating and I didn't really like too much human contact. Certainly not from a patient who was regarding me like I was some kind of vanilla muffin.
"Uhm…" was the only thing I could really utter without thinking—that task became rather impossible. And the redhead was still grinning like he knew something that I didn't, making the curious part of me itch just to know what he was thinking.
And you know the saying: 'Curiosity killed the kitten.'
In this case it wasn't a fluffy and lovely kitten that turns into a massive ball of fur with pointy claws and fangs when you turn your back to it that died, but rather my innocence. Or as much innocence I had left.
