GOD'S FAVOURITE. 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫.

GOD'S FAVOURITE

How could one describe Ken Hatori?

Well, nobody did. Like everyone, people only saw him at face value, a well-respected and hardworking psychiatrist who had flown through his career with ease. With multiple accolades and his ward in the city of Tokyo, many knew of his celebrity status...But it hadn't been his tumultuous line of relationships or breakthrough results that had been making him a topic for discussion in recent years.

The thirty-something had gotten himself wrapped up in rather a known case, some would argue it was the worst crime done in modern-day Japan...So why on earth would such a proclaimed doctor want any part in the gruesome tale besides self-interest?

Well let's just say dealing with the same type of patient day by day could be a bore, nothing new or ground-breaking came to those who accepted the ordinary after all.

Y/N was a peculiar girl to him, a paradox within that childish innocence she so desperately clung to. Every day for a year he had been the only one allowed contact with her, maybe in the beginning Ken pinned it on his curiosity, a chance to fix the "Devil incarnate" as the media dubbed her.

But when does fascination turn into obsession? What line do we finally cross to draw that boundary when our interests become something far more diabolical? Let's just say he had never made it across that line because he acted just as any other caretaker would to their vulnerable patient.

A doctor is supposed to make sure they're open, aren't they? To make sure no one else's poisonous words worked inside their brain? Doctors are supposed to disallow them the basic skill of even walking if it pains them, doing anything and everything for their patients as if they were an infant. He was supposed to move her isolation into the office next to him so others wouldn't intrude on their connection, he would have kept her chained to the wall so she didn't hurt herself because he wasn't just any spineless doctor, he was Y/N's psychiatrist and her caretaker...Even her dependency.

He was just doing what all good doctors did after all.

Then it happened.

The relationship he had spent months cultivating and sculpting was shattered thanks to some insipid, intrusive detective who claimed he knew best. What a laughable sentence in his eyes, best? He was the only one who knew what his dear Y/N needed. He had created her, glued the pieces of a smashed vase together with a featherless delicacy. He was the one to introduce Y/N to nothing but the best, he had trained into the perfect doll who, despite her incarceration had been trained so thoroughly that high society could weep.

Alas, the old fool had emerged victorious in the end. A loss he could put up with but not one the psychiatrist found himself jumping for joy over.

And finally, after a mere day, he had her back where she belonged. His beloved office was full of only the low playing music as they stared at one another, his face etched into a crazed smile as the wine glass swirled into his hands.

The space itself had not ceased to change since Y/N had seen herself in it, everything was perfect. The bronzed leather sofa was perfectly plump as it stood on the polished floor, his furniture dusted over and angled exactly how he wanted and even the walls were void of scratches or taints, various paintings hanging straight and surrounding the duo. What was interesting was that his award cabinet remained untouched, it's not as if he found himself using it sparingly and it mainly worked to encase the various awards or certificates he had received.

"Do you know this tune?" He hummed the question, although, from the cocky tone his words were laced with she recognized her psychiatrist wanted to reaffirm she remembered his teachings, a test if you would put it in simpler terms.