He Calls a Mansion, Not a House, but a Tomb

Richard was setting me up appointments with a few psychologists that were interested in helping me with my book and with my now semi-mobile leg, I could at least attend without the need of a handicap ramp. Although, crutches were not my forté.
I sighed in relief once I reached a chair in the waiting room outside the psychiatrists office, so glad that I didn't fall and embarrass myself again today. At least Gerard wouldn't have been there to fawn over me protectively. It's a bit strange how he is so attentive of me... Maybe it really was over with Bert and him.
"Frank Iero?" My name was pronounced correctly. Richard probably got them into the habit over the phone.
I carefully stood up, leaning on my crutches, and was directed in by the secretary who kindly opened the door widely for me. I smiled at her before entering the office, and sat down on the classic shrink couch, leaning my crutches on the armrest.
A woman sat at a desk next to a large window, seeming to be very absorbed in reading. Her brown hair caught the sunlight, accenting her highlights. Her mouth was twisted into a small smile, quite opposite of what one would imagine of a person at work, but I suppose she liked her job. I almost didn't want to disturb her; she looked so concentrated but delighted.
But, she looked up and gasped.
"Oh, my, I'm so sorry!" Her honey voice sung out, closing the folder she was reading from. I laughed, shaking my head.
"It's alright; I was enjoying watching you - if that's not too creepy." I joked, smiling at her warmly. She returned the smile and approached the couch, sitting in the couch chair opposite from me, crossing her legs, resting her hands on her knee.
"It is - but, I suppose I'll excuse you this once, being in the presence of such an amazing writer, I am a little intimidated." She explained. I felt myself blush, and I turned even more red when I realized I was so affected by her compliment. She chuckled.
"Thank you." I said, bringing my hand to my mouth nervously.
"Well, I'm Miranda Burk; and, I know, you're Frank Iero." She introduced herself, happily standing quickly to shake my hand and then returned to her seat.
"Well, we should get started; how exactly does the character act?" She continued on, leaning forward intently. I smiled, glad to change the subject.
"Well, he's very... obsessive, sometimes. He becomes easily attached to things." I began. She nodded, giving me a small hand gesture, encouraging me to continue.
"He juggles many relationships at once; maybe two steadies and a little fun on the side, you know?" I swallowed hard, my throat becoming very dry suddenly.
Miranda frowned, tilting her head. I took a deep breath, trying to read her face.
"Frank, is there something you need to get off your chest?" She asked. I frowned.
"Umm..." I mumbled, "Can this conversation be considered doctor-patient privileged?" I asked. She looked concerned, but nodded.
I exhaled heavily, readying myself. "The character is real. His name is Gerard and ever since I got into a car accident a month-and-some ago, he's been taking care of me. He's had a boyfriend, and a girlfriend, I think, and I'm pretty sure he's cheating on them with me..." I explained sheepishly, nibbling on my bottom lip. "And it's not like I just think that's the big problem I need analyzed -- it's his personality I'm scared about; he's very... dramatic, in ways, and takes things out of proportion sometimes. I'm not sure what it was, but this one time, his boyfriend called and left a message apologizing and Gerard was a bit, well, smug about it; saying he just needed the words "I'm sorry" to come out of his mouth. It couldn't have been a big thing to have a simple apology fix it, so I assume it was a small conflict he was upset about, and--"
"Frank, I'm sorry, but could I just stop you there--" I nodded, realizing I had been rambling and was glad she stopped me before I got too into it. "Frank, I might need to talk to him myself before I can make a clear diagnosis, but I think your friend Gerard is suffering from histrionic personality disorder." She explained, her voice was very tender as she spoke.
"And what does that mean?" I asked.
"Well, generally, but not true to all patients, they like to have attention put on them, or they do things to please others to get appreciation for it -- possibly the reason for taking care of you. As for the relationships, it's not uncommon for them to have multiple relationships, but it's usually under the narcissistic personality disorder; a person feeling as though one mate isn't enough for them. People with this disorder generally exaggerate situations, like the one you exemplified, and relationships... Has Gerard done anything to make it seem your relationship was far more advanced than it is?" She asked. I thought hard on this.
I was already living in his house, which, I suppose could have possibly made him feel more attached to me. He also was very affectionate towards me, and protective. He always went to the hospital with me, even if he was dead on his feet at five in the morning. They were sweet gestures, but now, in light of the diagnosis, it may have been unhealthy.
"Yes, he did. He took me in without even meeting me; he just knew my name from my book. He's been very protective over me while I've been living at his house. And we've become a bit... romantic, recently." She nodded along, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
"Frank, define 'romantic'."
"He touches a lot, very tender, you could say. We've kissed a few times, and it's led to sex only once." I replied, awkwardly crossing my ankles.
"Frank, do you regret anything you've done with Gerard?" I could see her eyes soften, trying to keep her voice gentle and unconfrontational. I appreciated the effort, at least.
I felt my throat tighten and it was getting hard to breathe. My stomach felt as though it was tying itself into knots.
"Why is this becoming a full-on visit to the shrink?" I stammered, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants.
Miranda smiled, running one hand through her hair quickly. "Sorry, Frank, it's a habit." She joked.
"Please stop saying my name so much; it's bothering me." I mumbled, looking away. She was silent, and I looked back up at her.
Her eyes were soft again, glistening in the light. "Sorry... Maybe we should end the visit here." She proposed, standing from her chair. I nodded and followed suit, getting my crutches in order before being led to the door by Miranda.
"Thanks, Doctor Burk, for taking the time to meet with me." I said, smiling, before leaving the office.