bitter || zarry stylik

one

Harry drums his fingers on the armrest of the leather chair, staring blankly at the grey wall behind the receptionist. After twelve seconds, he checks his watch, and then the clock. His doctor should be here by now. Just as Harry gets up to talk to the receptionist again, the door to Dr. Malik's office opens, and Harry feels his eyes widen. Standing in the doorway is Dr. Malik, a tall and handsome man in a crisp pink shirt and dress pants.

Dr. Malik smiles at Harry, and holds out his hand to shake. After a second of Harry staring at his own hand, and then Dr. Malik's, he reluctantly shakes his hand. After Harry thoroughly coats his hands in hand sanitiser, he is ushered into the office.

After brushing off his chair, Harry finally sits down across from a very amused Dr. Malik. Dr. Malik takes a moment to write something in his notepad before looking up at Harry. "So, Harry, let's have a quick check-in before we chat, okay?"

Harry can't help but like the way Dr. Malik says his name. "Okay, Dr. Malik."

"Please, call me Zayn. Dr. Malik is far too formal." Zayn smiles at Harry, before his expression turns somber. "So, you were diagnosed with depression and anxiety, let's see... three years ago. Is that correct?"

Harry nods, shifting uncomfortably. He hates talking out this. That's part of the reason he was so hesitant to come here. "Yeah, that's right."

"Okay, so how are you feeling right now, mood-wise?" Zayn asks, crossing his legs and making his pants tighten at the knees.

Harry can't help but notice how young Zayn is, and wonders when he graduated university. Harry suddenly remembers the question, and shrugs. "I've been better, obviously. I mean, if I was just peachy than I probably wouldn't be here, yeah?"

Zayn chuckles. "Yes, I guess you're right. Now that we've checked in a bit, let's get down to business. Okay, I'm going to ask you some questions, and just answer them as best you can, alright?" Harry nods, trying not to roll his eyes. His old doctor, whom he stopped seeing a year ago, asked too many questions. "Okay, any suicidal thoughts?"

Harry nods, and Zayn tries not to frown. "Any self-harm?" Harry nods, reluctantly this time. Zayn raises his eyebrows, a sad expression on face, but continues.

"Any-"

Harry cuts him off with his own question. "How old are you?"

Zayn blushes at Harry's sudden outburst. "Erm, I'm twenty-six. Quite young, I know. But don't let that put you off. Anyway, where were we? Ah yes, questions. Sorry about these, by the way. I know they're not much fun."

Harry shrugs and motions for Zayn to continue. "Do you practice any rituals or routines? For instance, pushing a chair in and out multiple times or washing your hands until your skin is raw. The reason I'm asking is because I've noticed your mild compulsions."

Harry blanches. "Erm, well, I... Yeah I do. My old doctor said it had to do with my anxiety."

"Well, yes and no. A lot of times, a person will perform these rituals to calm their anxiety. But I have a feeling that with you, it's different."