✩ ⌬ ، ❴ THIS YOUR ID? ❵ ⇲ ☪ @byulite: if you insist. [ you can hear the shrug in jariyan's voice, but he mentally notes to grab a blanket in case the anticipated ---- (deop falling asleep on his couch, beloved strawberry bag in his hand escaping his grip.) ---- were to happen. it wasn't often he had company over in the apartment above his office, & it was obvious the lines between /people/ & patients had blurred. despite his confidence that his social life was not, in fact, that void of any liveliness, jariyan's social circle had visibly declined in quantity. —— (the doctor himself would always deny his need for companionship,) —— he was the typical “friend of a friend of a friend”, tethered to a wire of what seemed to be miles of people but not really knowing who any of them were beyond surface. ---- (save for the few he was lucky enough to get to know, though they were living their own lives now.) ---- this left him lonely, but stuck in a state of such deep-seated denial that nobody became fully aware of it. except for him. days were shorter, the nights were too —— all uneventful & filled with mundanity. the doctor was tired of it, which is why he was so grateful when deop turned up on his 2nd-floor doorstep. ]