ANIMAL | a yandere!mental patient x doctor!reader

Chapter Fourteen - Henry

(TW - death, dead body, funeral)

"I'm so sorry, miss. There's nothing we could do. Your boyfriend is dead."

. . .

You took a shaky step back in disbelief. "Sorry, what did you say?" you asked, not knowing if you had heard her right.

"He was dead when we found him. From the smoke," the paramedic explained. "I know it's hard, but can you confirm the identity of the body for me?"

You swallowed hard and nodded. This time, you were the one to squeeze Ocean's hand like it was your lifeline. A stretcher sat behind the open doors of the ambulance, covered in a sheet. Your breathing quickened as you approached it. The paramedic pulled back the sheet, and you pressed your lips together in order to not cry. June's face was relaxed, and his eyelids lied gently closed. His freckles had disappeared under all the ash, but you didn't see any actual burns.

"Um, yes-" you cleared your throat, feeling your eyes burn- "That's June."

"Thank you, miss. We'll call his immediate family for a second confirmation."

As soon as the paramedic left, the tears that had been building up began to escape, some sliding down your cheeks and some dripping onto the ground, leaving wet splotches on the asphalt. You sniffled and brought your free hand up to your face, wiping at your eyes. The worst part was that the sadness you were feeling wasn't as strong as you would have expected. It was a numbed, half-sadness.

Ocean set Niko down as the bookstore owner arrived at the scene. He held his arms out, and you just about fell onto him, shoving your face into his chest. Ocean stroked your hair over and over again as you let everything out, staining his shirt. Eventually, the tears stopped coming, and you felt a wave of sheer exhaustion. You remained leaning against Ocean, too tired to stand alone again.

"Ocean," you hiccupped, your voice weak. "Thank you."

The police had finished their first assessment of the fire. They concluded that no foul play was involved after Ocean suggested that the cat must have knocked over a still-lit candle that the bookstore owner said 'could have possibly' been there, though she didn't remember. You just wanted to walk Ocean back to the hospital so that you could go home, but the paramedic advised you to have someone walk you home and stay with you. You obliged and called Dr. Monroe. You knew you could have asked someone else other than Ocean, or even lied, but you didn't have the energy, and Ocean had volunteered.

You turned the key to your townhouse door, your knees nearly giving away underneath you. When the door didn't unlock, you jiggled it, frustrated, until Ocean gently moved you aside and did it for you. You gave him a grateful look and headed inside, tossing your shoes in the direction of your shoe rack and leaning over the kitchen island. Though you were ready to pass out, you still had enough sense to ask Ocean,

"Are you hungry?"

"Nope," he replied quickly. "You can go to sleep."

Somehow, you smiled at Ocean and went to set out a pillow and blanket on the couch for him. He followed you upstairs as you went into your bedroom and waited outside while you changed into your pajamas, an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Ocean peeked inside when you were done, watching you get into bed and turn out the light. You heard the floorboards creak as he left.

You shut your eyes, but suddenly, even though you were drained, it was impossible to fall asleep. Your thoughts were racing, but you couldn't make out exactly what they were about. After a while of tossing and turning, you sat up, defeated. Quietly, you crept downstairs and into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. It was cool on your skin as you pressed it to your forehead.

Ocean was still awake, sitting on the couch. He hopped over the side and slid onto one of the stools at the island.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, twisting open the cap of the water and taking a sip. "Can..." you paused, considering what you were about to say. You decided that you didn't have enough energy to care about whatever pros and cons there were to weigh. "Can you come sleep in my room?"

Ocean gave you a warm smile that bordered on pleased, resting his chin on his folded arms. "Of course."

He grabbed the bedding from the couch and went back upstairs alongside you. As he was setting it down on the ground- as you didn't have enough room in your city-sized bedroom for anything more than a bed, a dresser, and a standing coat rack- you offered, a little shyly,

"You can come sleep up here with me."

"I don't know, would you be comfortable?" Ocean asked. He was half-sincere and half-goading, though he came off as being completely serious. He desperately wanted to hear you say,

"Mhm, yes. Come sleep by me, please?"

You didn't notice in the dark, but Ocean looked thrilled. Before, he had asked you to sleep next to him, being met with your hesitation. Now, you were asking him to sleep next to you without any second thoughts. It was all thanks to June, he thought to himself.

Ocean slipped under the covers on the other side of the bed, turning slightly to face you as you lied down. You inched a little closer. Ocean put an arm over your waist, and you didn't object. The weight of it was comforting, and as you listened to the sound of Ocean's breathing, trying to match it, you finally drifted off.

A few days after June's death, you found a letter in the mail with information about his funeral. You hadn't expected to be invited, seeing as June never talked about his family, who lived in the same part of the country, with you. You had assumed that they didn't know he had a girlfriend. You were still having trouble sleeping at night, but, as a psychiatrist, you knew it was normal. Not wanting to take sleeping medication, you borrowed one of Ocean's shirts to wear at night. You thought it was possibly a little messed up, seeing how June felt about Ocean, but you couldn't deny that Ocean made you feel safe and relaxed. It was just so you could fall asleep, you reassured yourself.

At the funeral, you met June's single mother and his little sister. They were surprisingly un-distraught, telling you that June wouldn't have wanted them to be sad. June was buried next to his grandfather in the center of a sprawling graveyard, an old, wrought-iron fence lining the edges of the land. You had to fight back tears once again as you saw the dirt being thrown down.

As all of the guests were saying their goodbyes and piling into their cars to leave, including you, a man with brassy hair waved you over.

"Hi, you're Y/N, right?"

You raised an eyebrow. "I am. And you are?"

"Henry," he answered, looking away. "June was my best friend."

"Oh, I'm so sorry-"

"No, I know. It's just, I heard from June that some lovesick patient of yours was threatening him," Henry said in an almost accusing tone.

You immediately frowned, feeling bad for Henry but also defensive of Ocean. You assumed it was grief that was making him look for ways to make June's death make sense. "Henry, my patient did threaten June, but-"

"And he was at June's place when the fire started."

"He was only there after," you replied curtly. There was no real reason to believe Ocean had started the fire, but a little bit of doubt began to make its way into your head.

Henry didn't get aggravated by your refusal to accept his suspicions. Instead, he chuckled. "Okay, so ask him. Or better yet, come grab a drink with me."

"I'll do both," you agreed, but you the second request confused you. "Why a drink?"

"Make sure your patient knows, and pretend to be interested in me. We'll just see if I'm the next to go."