Thoughts. He tells me of his thoughts.
We are back in his room now, as it is bedtime for all of the patients, and I'm usually the one on duty for him now (they changed my schedule when they saw how much time I was spending with him anyways, saying that it was "better this way"). He lays under his covers, clutching my hand in his as he whispers to me about his thoughts.
He tells me of how he sometimes has bad thoughts, of how these thoughts hurt him. But then he says that when he gets these bad thoughts, that he just tries to think of things that make him happy--video games, anime, me.
I startle when he tells me this. I make him happy? He nods. He informs me that out of all of the thoughts that make him happy, I'm the one that does so the most.
My heart swells at the thought. I thank him, and yet he just shakes his head and thanks me in return. He then lets go of my hand and pats my leg, rolling over and telling me I should leave before I get in trouble. I agree, standing up and beginning to leave.
I faintly catch him mumbling something as I shut the door, something about him hoping that I can make other people happy one day.
YOU ARE READING
Anxiety Attacks (Septiplier)
FanfictionShort story based around the idea of illness and such. I can't give too much away because I want the story to tell its own... well, story.
