Addicted z.m

Chapter 1

Her hands ran up and down my chest as her chin nestled in the crook of my neck.

"How do you feel?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," I sighed. "You're not my psychiatrist anymore."

"I'm not asking as your psychiatrist, Zayn," she pulled her head away to look at me. "I'm asking as someone who cares about you."

"You don't have to say it like that," I argued.

"Like what?" she questioned.

I didn't respond because I knew what I was saying was ridiculous. She understood this part of me and I was grateful for that or else she would have been gone a long time ago.

She placed kisses on my shoulders tenderly. "You didn't take your meds today, did you?"

I shook my head. "Not this afternoon..." I confessed.

"You can't get into that habit babe." She continued to kiss my skin but her voice was one that belonged to someone peering at me over a clipboard, scribbling down every sign of my insanity.

"Stop that," I stood from where I sat on the dge of the bed and faced her. She looked up at me with frightened, big, blue eyes. She looked beautiful, the moonlight reflecting off of her recently dyed platinum blonde hair, but that wasn't enough to calm me down.

She sighed and stared at her fumbling fingers. "You had another dream about her, didn't you?"

I ran a hand through my hair and nodded.

"You can talk to me about it you know," she assured. "It doesn't bother me."

I approached the bed again and got down on my knees in front of her. "I know," I whispered. I took her hands in mine. "You have been extremely patient with me and I love you for that, but like I said, you're not my psychiatrist anymore. You're my girlfriend. I want to talk to you like my girlfriend. Not someone who is burdened with hearing my troubles."

"You're not burdening me," she stroked my cheek. "I want to be there for you."

"You are here for me," I promised. "But crying to you about my ex-girlfriend is not fair to you."

"I want you to be happy," she frowned.

"I am happy," I kissed her hand. "I'm happy with you. You've helped me in ways you don't understand. I've just got to learn to deal with this on my own. You and Doctor Reynolds said it yourselves, there's nothing anyone can do for me anymore. It's all up to me on whether I get well or not."

"You can start by taking your meds everyday," she tapped my nose playfully. "Both doses."

I stood up and let my lips connect to hers.

"I love you Zaynie," she whispered, cradling my face in her delicate hands.

I kissed her again. "I love you too, Pez," I replied.

*

I had learned to not be afraid of that word anymore. And I had Spencer to thank for that.

Almost every night after that last day of May, I dreamt about those gray-bluish-some-times-greenish eyes. Every night they held a different emotion. Some times positive, other times negative.

I continued to draw her.

Every night those dreams appeared, they'd shake me up so much, I couldn't go back to sleep unless I took those dreams and put them down on paper.

Each page always varied dramatically from the next. One night, her fingers would be digging in the plains of my hair; the next there's a gun in her hands pointed at me.