The Patient's Painkiller is a Psycholologist

Chapter 23

Days without Peter are usually boring and uneventful. He sits in his room, has a few arguments with the voices, his new nurse comes in to do a check up- although this time she offered to leave the room, still Wade refused, finding her red hair and piercing gaze too much, despite how much he wanted to try the gym again.

He didn't feel safe without Peter in this place full of people who look at you like some ticking bomb.

So he spent his day drawing every detail he could of the flower Peter gave him, it was placed on a little plastic cup that was previously used for renting his teeth.

Next morning Wade was already sat at the table, tidied everything just the way he noticed Peter seemed to like and awaited the familiar knock so he could yank his mask over his face again.

“Good morning” Peter greeted and

“OMG!!! he’s not wearing his glasses!!!” Yellow squealed and Wade noticed as well, happy to see Peter’s doe-like eyes properly for once.

Quickly, Wade scrambled for his book and opened on a page that had a pencil inside to mark it. He lift the page that brightly said “Good morning” back.

Peter seemed pleasantly surprised, smiling and pulling the chair out so he could seat. Wad noticed how his eyes snapped down at the neat row of pens and pencils, eyebrows shooting up slightly in delight.

“He’s a neat freak” White noted

“Have you eaten yet?” Peter asked and Wade grinned from beneath the mask, turning the page to show a large “You know it!” with a doodle of him eating despite having a mask on.

Peter’s chuckle made Wade feel proud, puffing out his chest as he opened a new page to write replies to Peter.

“That’s good” Peter cleared his throat with amusement, pulling out his glasses and placing them on, giving them a light push up the bridge of his nose “So… today I was hoping we could talk more about you” Peter began.

“Here it comes…” White said and Wade took a deep breath, nodding with a small brave huff, to show he was ready. If it's Peter its alright, there's nothing to fear…

“I was hoping you could tell me more about your daughter”

There it was… This called for a pink marker.

“She’s everything to me” he wrote slowly, taking care with it “She’s still only 8 years old” he lift the paper, holding it there before pulling out his drawing pad and opening on the old drawing of him holding his daughter’s hands, peter in the background.

Peter read the words carefully, frowning and turning his gaze towards the drawing with recognition

“That’s your daughter then” he gestured towards the drawing “Who’s the one in the back”

“You duh” He said accidentally, tensing when brown eyes landed on him, his tongue feeling as though there were needles stabbing through with the eye contact

“Why is my butt shining?” Peter whispered like it was a conspiracy and Wade held back the laugh that nearly erupted from him.

Lowering the drawing pad, he wrote “You know why” and winked at Peter playfully, hoping the mask could wink too.

Judging by the chuckle and rosy cheeks, Peter saw the wink. He leaned back against his chair as he returned to the task.

“Who is your daughter with right now?” he asked and Wade returned to his frown, looking down at the table as he thought it through.

No one. His sweet angel didn't have a guardian apart from him and look where he is! Stuck in a room thanks to his stupid little PTSD attack in public- he didnt even mean to be taken away but-