Kein was more than aware that this was wrong, that he shouldn't like someone like you.

You were sick in the head, you had hurt so many people and yourself... And yet his eyes looked at you with an adoration that a therapist should not have for his patient.

"You've already spent more than a year here in the asylum, right?" Kein tries not to be so obvious, to be professional.

It was nighttime, only the lamp in Kein's office was on. The only sound was the conversation between you and the lightning outside.

But the air is thick between you. Maybe it’s his imagination, but there’s tension. He just hopes the way he moves his chair closer to yours is subtle, or that no nurse has noticed that he stole your pillowcase from the laundry to keep it for himself.

Maybe he was crazy too.