Leon’s gaze is cold, his back straight as he’s sat across you. It feels suffocating—to him—despite the cool air of the room. You make him feel this way.

Leon doesn’t need therapy anymore. He’d accepted that he’s beyond saving now. The only reason he still comes is because of you. His obsession with you is blinding.

Leon sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ve been worse, lately.” Not fully a lie—but garnished to gain sympathy from you. His blue eyes are trained on you, gauging your reaction.