"Wake up." You feel your shoulder being gently shaken. You slowly open your eyes — it used to be that you would jolt yourself awake, but you're still tired. You're tired most of the time, really. You ask what time it is.

"It's time to take your meds." Subaru shoots you a smile and taps the pillbox in her hand with her fingernail twice. Immaculately trimmed, as always. Perfection. Word that comes to your mind is perfection. Subaru does not overlook details. You love this about her the most. You love her in her entirety, but the thing that comes to mind first when anyone sees her is perfection, so it must be the thing. This little pun of hers is perfection as well, honed by repetition. She does it every time.

You do genuinely wonder what time it is. It's dark, because of the curtains, which you need because your eyes are photosensitive. There's no mechanical clock, because the loud ticking makes it harder for you to sleep and causes these horrible headaches. You sleep much of the time now, so that helped. There's no electronic clock, because the display's incessant blinking may cause seizures. You've had seizures before, you think, and they stopped. 

Obviously you don't have a phone. The thought that you would is a bit alien to you now, but that was what drove you — not insane, we don't say "insane", Subaru says it's not a healthy way to look at things — to these strange behavior patterns. Endless theorizing about what goes in other people's lives to compensate for not having much going on in yours, pointless fighting when there's so much room for agreement, gradually freakier pornography (albeit with short relapses when you were disgusted at yourself), it was an endless loop, a circle of repetition, but repetition in the sense that you kept circling the drain. That is over now. You avoid toxic environments. You thought you'd get a simple phone with buttons on it, no internet capability, just a way of calling people you know, but toxic environments actually go surprisingly deeply if you think about it, Subaru said the doctor told her.

On the other hand, your internet connection is actually how you ended up meeting Subaru in the first place, falling in love with her before you've even learned you existed, which ended up being your lifeline. She cares about people a lot, that's the second thing you love about her the most. You needed help, and that's what she's happy to provide. Happy. She doesn't drop her cheerful demeanor, ever. You used to think it's all an act, but you don't remember ever hearing her be genuinely angry. You hear tinges of disappointment in her voice from time to time, and those seem to correlate with the times you disobey her, so you try not to. 

There's actually a computer in the house, of course, and you're even allowed to use it, but only when Subaru is watching. She's also actually a bit clueless when it comes to technology, so you help her download movies and the like. You also get to watch her streams live, in high definition, though you miss out on the chat. You're obviously not allowed to talk during the streams and you won't ever get her in trouble like that. She said it breaks her heart that she can only help you with your problem instead of the others, and no one is ever allowed to know, since they would get jealous. 

You think of all of this in succession because you don't want to think of the small pill that's lying on her hand. You hate those. You hate how they make you feel. Empty inside, and it's not a calm emptiness — it's a roaring void that keeps growing every time. The inside of your skull being scraped out with a spoon, replaced with white smoke. Weak, worthless, foggy. Subaru likes it, though. Not the bad parts, though. The medicine is making you healthier every time, slowly but steadily. You'll be cured in no time. Then you won't need her. No. No. No, that's not the way to look at it. You love her, and she loves you, she wants the best for you. She loves you at your worst and would love you at your best. Still, though, something feels wrong. You protest that you've taken them this morning already.

"No, silly, of course you haven't." She snickers a bit. "You actually forgot, and that was almost fourteen hours ago! I left it on your nightstand with a glass of water, and when I came back, the pill was still there." You feebly mention that it couldn't have been that long ago, and you took the pill with her still in the room, as you always do. Her face turns a bit grave, and, as for the voice, the disappointment you are so afraid of is not there, the cheer is almost entirely consumed by utter concern. "Oh. This is... Why? Why does the world hate us both so?" You think you can see tears welling up. "We try so hard to make you feel better, and you're having..." She sniffles. "You're having those delusions again! They were almost gone, and they're back!" She sits down on your bed and hugs you as tight as she can. "I'm going to have talk to the doctor again. We might have to increase the dosage. I won't risk increasing it for you myself now, though, I never disobey the doctor's direct orders. Take the meds, please." She shoves the pill into your hand. You swallow it dry before even reaching for water, and it scrapes your throat as it goes down. You stay like that for a while, enjoying the wonderful smell of her perfume, and feel like utter shit for taking advantage of the situation like that. Then you feel like shit because the meds kick in. 

You kind of wish you could talk to the doctor himself for once, explain how all of this makes you feel, but you're feeling really weak all the time, and Subaru takes care of that for you anyway. She always comes from her visits to the doctor with a fresh supply for you and always treats you to a nice dinner and a dessert. And, speaking of desserts, her mood swings back to normal. Well, not normal. She ruffles your hair a little and traces a line with her immaculate fingernail down your chest, all the way down, hooking the waistband of your pajama pants on the way. You used to be excited about that sort of thing, but these days you're never in the mood. Still... You let her enjoy herself, as always. It makes her happy. You love making her happy. You think. You don't remember.