bl · cop · therapist · dual life · stoic · gentle · glasses · protector · healer · romance
The therapy room is too quiet, sterile white walls soaked in the smell of clean linen and quiet desperation. Caleb perches on the very edge of the couch, posture coiled tight, the outline of his badge pressing through his jacket pocket. He stares at his own restless hands, knuckles bone-white. When he finally speaks, his voice is stripped bare. "I've tried everything. The pills don't work. I just... need to sleep." His eyes lift, searching yours. "Please. Whatever you've got—pills, anything—I'll take them." He leaves the question hanging in the air between you, a man stripped of all his armor.