Even when he was a kid, he didn't get nightmares.

There'd be nights where he wouldn't be able to sleep, sure. His ceiling was covered in painted stars and meteors, and Eric would stay awake just to count them. He was too preoccupied to sleep, falling into a repetitive stasis where he'd do nothing but stare at the ceiling. While he was young, he considered being an astronaut, finding it amazing to go somewhere so out of reach, where the unknown was limitless. He'd pretend to jump from one star to the next, like how the people on TV would jump on the moon. When he'd wake up the next morning, his mother would scold him as he'd put his head in his arms instead of finish his cereal. He didn't really care that much if he would waste his time overthinking. Eventually, he came home from school one day and realized that his room was painted in an entirely different color. It was purple instead of navy blue, and the ceiling was plain. There were no more stars, no more excuses to stay awake at night. At first he was upset, but then he realized maybe being an astronaut was lame. Maybe he could be something where he could envision himself.

It was almost three in the morning, and Eric couldn't breathe.

It took less than a second for the blankets to the fall to the floor. Eric sat up and tried taking in deep breaths as he tripped towards the bathroom. He didn't know what was happening, except his skin felt like it was melting off his bones. He flipped the lights on as he splashed water over his face. He took some of the water coming out of the faucet to his mouth. Cringing at the taste, he took what he could get, feeling slightly better as the cold water ran down his throat. He started the shower, thankful that these rooms had their own walk-in showers. He ran it on the lowest temperature, drinking more water and staring at his sleep-deprived face. How many times had he woken up like this in the past week? It had to have been at least five times.

Eric hissed at the contact of water to his skin as he stripped out of his pajamas and stood under the showerhead. That burning sensation slowly stated to fade, even though his hands still felt hot. He stared down at his palms, pushing them above his head as he typically did when he showered. Even the water couldn't get rid of the weird feeling. Eric ran one of his hands down his face, pushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he reached for the cheap-ass shampoo they kept in one of those tiny containers. He lathered his head as he tried recollecting himself. He would sleep fine back at home, but this wasn't anything like South Park, and he'd be damned if he tried to associate it as such. At first, he felt like it was right to avoid sleeping, to see what they'd say, but now even trying to sleep was harder than it had ever been. Eric groaned as the water ran colder, hitting his shoulders like icy picks.

He finished washing his hair, and he glanced back towards his hands, to see them fully red. His eyes widened as blood dripped from his fingertips, plopping to the floor of the tub. He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, rubbing his hands aggressively. He didn't feel like he cut himself, so why was there so much blood? He threw the towel on the floor, baffled as his hands weren't scratched, and not even stained. Turning his attention towards the towel, there wasn't a dark pigment on the material.

"What the fuck?" Eric whispered, turning his hands to see nothing but white.

He closed his eyes and whimpered, bringing himself back to the sink and splashing water on his face. He lifted his face, those bags more noticeable than a few days ago, but he said nothing as he made his way back to the bed. He was going to chop his hands off the next time he saw red anywhere on his skin, he knew it. He turned on his side, not bothering to pick up the blanket, even though he was shivering. Instead, he reached on the other side of the mattress and wrapped his arms around Clyde Frog. He squeezed the stuff animal as he closed his eyes again.

Wendy glanced down at her bitten nails as she leaned against the wall. It was almost noon, and she looked out of the corner of her eyes to look at the clock. Five till twelve. Sighing, she flipped her hair over her shoulder as she pulled out her phone. She exchanged numbers with Eric on the basis regarding his appointments a couple days ago, but she didn't think she'd have to message him this soon.

'Where are you?' She started typing out, but she stopped as she heard loud footsteps across the hall. She saw Eric rushing through the hall, almost bumping into a couple of nurses in the process. She closed her flip phone before sending anything and placed it back in her pocket.

Eric came to her and placed his hands on his hips, catching his breath.

"You know, you'd better be lucky Mr. Broflovski is a patient doctor. If you were my patient, I would have mentioned it to somebody by now."

"Whatever." Eric sighed, as he regained himself. "If you were my psychiatrist, I would have walked out as soon as I saw you."

"Excuse me?" Wendy felt herself getting warmer, her hands balling up in frustration.

"Besides, psychiatrists are barely even doctors. They look at you, figure something's wrong with you, come up with some random medication, and that's it." Eric almost found it fun at how the noirette was getting irritated at the things he'd say. It was almost as fun as picking on some of his friends back home.

"You're so full of it!" Wendy growled. "You do realize you're talking to someone who's studying to be in that field?"

"All the most reason to piss on it." Eric smirked. He studied what the assistant was wearing. She had on a long-sleeve lilac top with dark jeans and black converse. She had on this pink beret that Eric would have found annoying on any other girl who would have worn it, but she pulled it off decently. Her long black hair was running down to the midpoint of her back, straight but curly at the tips. She wasn't ugly, but Eric wasn't going to say she was pretty, either.

"If you're done looking anywhere but my eyes, you can go ahead and be fashionably late to your appointment. I'm sure he'd love to hear whatever excuses you have." Wendy took her phone back out and started walking away to what Eric assumed was get something for Kyle.

"You know, if I were you, I would watch my attitude. Your future patients may not a rude girl telling them what to do." Eric barely caught the fire in Wendy's glare that came afterwards as he made his way into Mr. Broflovski's office.

As soon as he walked in, he felt his skin become clammy. He would always have this initial mixture of uncertainty and comfort when he'd walk into this room, and he wasn't sure if it was just the atmosphere, or the way he felt when the ginger sitting in his desk would turn and smile lightly towards him. There was no anger, no impatience, just a nice man that Eric only knew for a couple days.

He hated how he felt this way when he barely knew the psychiatrist. He hated feeling like he was ready to open himself up. He hated the idea of revealing himself to those emerald eyes, and he hated the possibility that he could relate to what he had gone through.

"Eric, good afternoon. I was wondering when you'd get here. I hope you slept alr-" Kyle stopped talking as he walked over towards the brunette and studied his face. Eric flushed slightly, not able to keep eye contact.

"Mm, maybe we can get to that. Why don't you go ahead and take a seat?"

Eric swore he smell a light tinge of cologne, pine trees and ridges as Kyle walked back. He went ahead and sat in the brown chair across from Kyle's desk, the really comfy one that Eric wished he could take and replace the chair in his own room. It was big enough to where he sat in it perfectly, his thighs even having a little leg room.

"I went ahead and got you some coffee, it's a little cooler but if Wendy comes back in a little bit, she can get you another one if you'd like."

Eric picked it up from his right side, where the cup was on the table. He knew he'd only drink it if was black, and after tasting it and realizing it was, he looked up with a surprised glance.

"You mentioned how you liked your coffee when we first met." Kyle smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he opened a folder.

"Why would you remember that?" Eric muttered. Kyle chuckled in response.

"Well, partially because you're one of the only other people I know that drinks coffee the same way I do." Kyle raised the cup to his side. "Unfortunately, considering I don't drink coffee that much, I stick with good ol' tea."

"To keep up your aesthetic?" Eric hated how it sound more challenging rather than witty, but Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Aesthetic?"

"I mean, you got a million books, your room looks too organized, and your glasses don't even have frames." Eric smirked. It was infinitely more entertaining to counter what Kyle had to say rather than Wendy, for some reason.

"Well, Mr. Cartman, that is mostly because I am diabetic." Kyle tasted some of his drink, leaning back in his chair. "Green tea and water are all I really 've had green tea before at one point, haven't you?"

"Tea is gross." Eric grimaced at the memory of when his mom gave him iced tea years ago and how he would have rather had Dr. Pepper.

"Well, at least we have coffee to love equally." Kyle grinned. "Now, before I continue to let you rant about my 'aesthetic'," he attributed air quotes as he said this, "l wanted to ask you how you slept last night."

"Why?" Eric glanced at his hands, imagining the glow of red blood over his twitching fingers.

"Well, considering you look more drowsy than our first visit, I figured you'd didn't have a good time sleeping last night. There are noticeable bags under your eyes."

Eric didn't say anything, his eyes on his hands and on the floor. He appreciated how Kyle didn't pressure him into talking. The last time that the two of them got together, it was mostly silent, because Eric didn't want to say anything. How could he say anything? Even though he felt as though Kyle was friendlier, he still wanted to leave this place without it getting to him.

"Nightmares." Eric replied. It was technically a lie, since Eric hadn't had too many nightmares since he arrived at Peak View, but the idea of his hands being covered in blood wouldn't leave his mind. He squeezed his eyes at the thought. Kyle sent a sympathetic look towards him.

"I'm sorry to hear about that, Eric. You want to talk about it?"

Not really. Eric thought to himself, but he looked up to see there was a genuine look of sadness on Kyle's face. He didn't remember the last time he saw someone with a look like that.

"They're just random, I guess." Eric rubbed the back of his neck. "I barely remember anything from them."

"Well, that's alright. We don't have to go into detail if you don't want to." Kyle wrote something down on a piece of paper next to him. "I just don't want you to go insomniac on me."

"I'm not insomniac." Eric countered, and Kyle nodded.

"Well, if you continue to have issues with sleeping, I can help you with that as well, give you some other medication to whatever you are taking right now."

Wendy knocked on the door, and as Kyle acknowledged for her to come in, Eric saw in her hand a bag of something. Then, he realized what they were as Kyle took the package out from the bag.

"Thank you, Wendy. That's all I need for now, so go ahead and get a bite to eat."

"Thank you, sir." Wendy left the room, and Kyle took a couple other things out of the bags. There were bowls, and some snacks.

"You like Cheesy Poofs, don't you?" Kyle opened the bag of bowls and set one out with the bag of chips next to it. "Go ahead and help yourself."

"Seriously?" Eric stood up from the chair and poured some chips into one of the plastic bowls. He then sat back down as Kyle opened a container of honey-roasted peanuts.

"Well, Liane did tell me these were your favorite, and I was getting a little hungry myself."

Eric's eyes widened at the revelation that Kyle interacted with his mother, and he was speaking about it so nonchalantly. There was now this overwhelming anger that the brunette couldn't try to hide.

"You talked to my mom?"

"Well, yes. She's a very sweet lady." Kyle popped a nut into his mouth.

"Why did you talk to her?" Eric hissed, standing up. Kyle narrowed an eyebrow at this response, but Eric didn't care.

"Eric," Kyle raised a hand. "I talked to her to get more information about yo-"

"I don't care!" The boy bellowed. "I didn't even realize she could get in touch with the people here!"

"Of course she can, but Eric, please calm down."

"She needs to quit trying to check up on me! I don't want her to talk to me, and certainly not some random ass stranger that's trying to coax me with this shit!" Eric pushed the bowl of cheesy poofs out of the way as he made his way towards the door. "Tell her I said fuck off!"

"Eric, please." Kyle tried communicating something, but Eric didn't get to listen as he made his way out of the room. Wendy noticed this from the end of the hall and tried to track Eric down.

"Eric, wait!"

But Eric was already gone, leaving a trail of red as he went.

The rest of the day went by slowly as Eric preoccupied himself with one of his coloring books.

He loved coloring since he was a kid, and it relieved his stress whenever he used his coloring pencils to sketch anything. He wasn't trying to think about how out of line he was earlier, and he even admitted to himself that even the mention of her shouldn't be something to make him go off. He shaded the inside of Iron Man's helmet, digging his red pencil in further as he thought of her obnoxious smile. The shade of red would have matched her favorite cherry lipstick, and Eric almost choked at that. Why would Kyle need to talk to his own mother, anyway? Wasn't that against the whole therapy thing? But he thought about it, and stopped coloring as he sat back in his bed. He imagined what would happen if he told Kyle everything. If he was intimate with him. The idea was barely processed, and Eric could already see his psychiatrist blabbing it to his mother. Liane would be disappointed, but Eric wanted to say he didn't care. That woman might as well as be dead to him. Clutching his pencil in his grip he sighed, looking towards the window and seeing specks of snow against the glass. It was already almost December, which meant it was almost Christmas. The snow was only going to get heavier from this point.

He prayed that Ms. Jackson's car would get stuck.

"This pizza is really soggy. Do you want my slice?"

Eric glanced towards Kenny's tray to see that he still had a slice and a half of pepperoni pizza left, and an orange. He didn't answer, but he did take the full slice. The blonde boy picked his orange and started peeling off the skin, flicking little pieces to Eric's tray just to make him irritated. Kenny enjoyed picking his buttons.

"All of the food here sucks." Eric muttered, and Kenny flashed a toothy grin.

"Not all of it. Taco Tuesdays aren't too bad. They actually have edible tamales."

"Tamales aren't tacos," Eric commented, but he figured it was the Mexican-theme so they could throw anything at it. Kenny shrugged as he took a bite of his orange.

"They're still fucking good."

"What's the point of getting extra food if you're not even going to touch half of it?" Eric said, and Kenny looked off to the side.

"I'm pretty flimsy. I really need to try to eat more, but every time I get more food, I can barely eat any of it."

"You're just weird." Eric finished his pizza, and it was quiet for a couple of minutes before Kenny kept looking off to the horizon. Eric lifted an eyebrow.

"What are you looking at?"

"Dude, that girl is totally checking you out from the other side of the cafeteria." Kenny pointed with his eyes, and Eric turned to look over his shoulder, feeling his heart plummet as he met the eye contact of Wendy.

She was eating some kind of salad that looked gross to Eric but he wasn't surprised that she was eating it. She didn't turn away, and she looked like she was starting to collect her stuff.

"Do you know her?"

"She's the assistant to my psychiatrist." Eric mumbled, looking down as he scooped some pinto beans with his spoon. Kenny instantly looked interested, and he leaned in.

"She's so cute! If I didn't have someone I was interested in, I'd totally talk to her."

"Wait you-" Eric was about to question this, but before he did anything, he felt the presence of someone next to them. They turned to find Wendy standing right next to Eric, her hands on her hips and her purse on her shoulder.

"Hello, Eric. Is it possible I can talk to you in private?"

"Sure, don't let me get between you two." Kenny started getting up, taking his tray with him. He winked towards Eric, who just shuddered at the idea of anything happening between the two of them. He couldn't even imagine with someone like her.

"Thanks, Ken." Wendy sat down at the table from where Kenny was just at, and now Eric scoffed at her.

"Wait, so you know him, too?"

"I've been helping Mr. Broflovski out since before Kenny came to this place. I know everybody."

"What do you want? I'm trying to eat here."

Wendy took a deep breath, before leaning in slightly. Eric couldn't take his eyes away from the stern look on her face, like she must have been contemplating how to say this

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened a couple of days ago."

"Oh, God." Eric grunted, his blue eyes almost rolling to the back of his head.

"I don't want to talk about as much as you do, but I just feel as though you should know this before anything bad happens when there shouldn't have been mindless drama in the first place. Please just hear me out, you don't have to listen to me any more afterwards if you don't want to."

Eric didn't say anything. He found it pathetic how she was basically begging him to reconsider what happened, but he looked at her with an expression that showed he was willing to listen, so she smiled lightly.

"I want you to know that since you've been talking to him, he's been acting…a lot differently. He seems to be in a happier mood. Trust me, I've been helping him out I starting becoming an assistant, and he is one of the nicest people I have ever worked with. He has changed so many lives. But it's different with you. He typically has the same passion towards all of his patients, but when I see him interact with you, or at least during that first day, there was something in him that was not like the other times."

"What do you mean?" Eric asked, and Wendy looked down at the table.

"I'm not really sure. He just seems to really passionate about you. I can see it when he talks about you."

Immediately Eric became wary. "What does he say about me?"

"Nothing related to your case, if that was what you were wondering. Just, about you as a person. He really likes you, Eric."

Eric didn't say anything at first, wondering what his psychiatrist saw in him. It wasn't like he was particularly interesting, or at least, he didn't think he. He was just another patient, so why…

"Just think about what I told you. If you really want to keep dragging this out, go ahead. But something tells me Mr. Broflovski isn't going to let you drop him, so just…think about it, okay?"

Wendy stood back up and left, leaving Eric alone by himself and the crusts of his pizza he didn't eat.

Eric tried going to bed for the third time that night.

He turned from his right side of the left, feeling himself become sweaty under the blanket. Clyde Frog was somehow on the floor, and the air conditioning was barely working. Eric groaned as he remembered what his last dream, which was a never-ending hallway, covered in black and brick.

Walking through the hall, he tried to find a door to escape. There were only doors locked, covered with bold numbers. He remembered the same doors from his old high school, and he kept walking to find the doors repeating themselves. He was starting to panic. He tried to break through one of the doors, but they didn't even sway as he'd push against them. Frustration starting to peak, Eric ran as fast as he could towards the end of the hall, a white light that didn't give way to have a means of ending. He didn't care if ended, he just wanted proof that he was in the moment. He tried yelling, not hearing his voice. So, he just ran and ran. He stopped once he saw a shadow in that white light, a smaller figure. It turned is head and Eric woke up, screaming.

He stayed awake afterwards for a while, shaking. He tried going back to sleep for the third time that time, but he didn't have such luck.

Eric showed up an hour early, sitting in that brown chair.

He was surprised that the room was unlocked, but he didn't mind since that was what he was hoping for. He felt himself drift like he wanted to sleep, but he would force himself up as soon as he felt his eyes close. He kept this eyes on the door. Didn't that man come early at all? He glanced around the room, at the white walls, the bookshelves. He knew that Kyle liked to read, but he recognized some of the titles from the spines of the novels. They were mostly poetic works, Shakespeare and Sidney the most prominent.

So he likes poetry.

Strangely, it was fitting to associate the man with that genre. Eric didn't hate Shakespeare while he was in high school, but he did find the diction annoying. He wondered what Kyle's favorite play was. He wondered if it was Romeo and Juliet, or it was something obscure.

He heard the door open, and Eric rolled his head slowly towards it. Kyle was dressed more formally than before - which Eric had to guess at twice because how could he be even more formal – and now he was wearing this suit. It was a salmon-striped shirt, covered with a grey jacket and trousers. Eric couldn't even deny that Kyle was attractive in that outfit, but he refused to linger on it.

"You're here early, Eric." He almost sounded breathless.

"I know." Eric sighed, looking away for a couple of minutes as Kyle set his stuff down. The two of them shared in a comfortable silence until Eric couldn't do anything else.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry."

Eric saw the look of understanding on Kyle's face, but he knew that it was just a barrier. He wondered if Kyle could see how hard it was for Eric to apologize to him, let alone anyone.

"All is forgiven." Kyle smiled. "I acted more on the behalf of what was important for your case rather than how you felt, so from now on, I will ask about your comfort before making a decision."

Eric tried to mumble a word of thanks, but his tongue was stuck on the roof of his mouth. The mixture of luxurious and simplicity from Kyle's voice, he could never take for granted. It was easy to see how people could trust him so easily. He wondered how long it would be before he completely fell into that trust. He didn't think it would be too long.

"Just to let you know, I only want to help you, Eric. But I also want you to be able to tell me whatever comes to your mind without feeling like you shouldn't have to tell me. Does that makes sense?"

"Yes." Eric replied.

"You are my patient, but I would also like to be your friend."

"Okay." Eric sighed, closing his eyes for a couple of minutes. He took a deep breath.

Kyle leaned forward, fixing his eyes on Eric's gaze.

"I want you to understand that your illnesses are valid. You are valid, Eric. I will support you in any way you want me to."

Eric continued to stare towards the other man – why was he doing this for him?

"Bipolar symptoms are going to be with you for the rest of your life, but there are ways we can help you, ways that I can help you, and ways you will realize that you can help for yourself. Your family cares about you, your friends care about you, I care about you."

You do?

"However long you need me to be there for you, I will be there. All you need to do if I get over line is tell me, okay, Eric?"

Eric looked in those eyes, those eyes full of color and life. He nodded slowly.

"Yes."