Chapter Text
He wasn’t dying.
Not here, not now.
At least that’s what Jisung kept telling himself, but as he raised his hand to ring the doorbell he sure as hell felt like it. His heart was rabbiting in his chest and his palms felt clammy and cold. He felt like they had been replaced by dead fish as his shaky finger failed to press the doorbell down enough to produce a ringing sound. He debated turning around and leaving for the millionth time that morning.
But he reminded himself: He wasn’t dying. And him feeling this way was exactly what brought him to the doorstep of the therapist's office.
So he mustered up what little courage he could find and pressed the button again. This time a shrill buzzing sound rang out and almost as though it had burned him, he immediately retracted his hand to stop the noise.
Anxiously, he stepped from one foot to the next, as he waited for the door to open. By the time it did, he had considered bolting yet again. The opening of the door put an abrupt end to his fantasies of making a swift departure.
He was greeted by his therapist's kind smile and flaming locks of bright red hair. Mrs. Choi was a very nice, if slightly eccentric lady from what Jisung could tell. So far, they had met only once during his first session to assess if they would be a good fit, so he couldn’t really say all that much about her, actually.
Mrs. Choi always seemed very professional yet laid back enough that Jisung felt somewhat comfortable sharing his thoughts with her. Not that he ever really felt comfortable with other people but that’s neither here nor there.
She appeared to be in her mid- to late thirties and always had a very understanding expression on her face. Somehow, during their first session she had managed to express the right amount of sympathy without making it seem like she pitied him, which Jisung greatly appreciated.
“Ah Mr. Han, great to see you. Come in,” she welcomed him and steered him towards the room he was already somewhat familiar with. However, unlike last time he entered the room two weeks ago, this time eight chairs were arranged in a circle in the room. All of them had ample space between each other and to Jisung’s delight, all of them were still empty.
Despite how long it took him to work up the courage to leave his house, get on the bus and eventually ring the doorbell, the terrible public transport system in the area did not allow him to be late. There was exactly one bus he could take to get there on time, so if that meant he was early he just had to accept his fate.
This now bestowed upon him the pleasure of getting to choose the chair he felt most comfortable in. So, he definitely would not be sitting opposite Mrs. Choi, as her attentive looks would only serve to worsen his anxious behaviours. Instead, he opted for the chair next to hers, which was also the one closest to the wall.
That way he would only have a stranger on one side of him. He could do it, he tried to convince himself once more. Not that he really had a choice, now that he had sat down.
Although, technically, Mrs. Choi told him he could leave at any point if he felt uncomfortable. But he knew he would not be able to bear the other patients’ looks if he were to get up and leave the session prematurely. Additionally, despite what she said, he felt like giving up would disappoint his therapist.
Despite only having met her twice now, that was another thought Jisung could not stand. Plus, ever since he had signed up to the group therapy sessions, he had this weird sense of finality. Like somehow this was his last chance at life.
So he pulled his hood lower over his face and retracted his still clammy hands into his sleeves and made himself as small as he could.
The ringing of the doorbell startled him so much that he stopped bouncing his leg for a second. Only then he realised he had been doing that at all.
When the door opened, two people stepped in at once. Jisung felt their looks on him as they each mumbled their greetings. The taller man chose the seat on Mrs. Choi’s right-hand side. The woman who had entered with him chose a seat further away from Jisung, leaving an empty chair between herself and the other man.
Over the next few minutes this repeated until all chairs but one, the one to Jisung’s left, were filled. Mrs. Choi looked at her watch and sighed, “Looks like Mr. Lee won’t be joining us today after all. We’ll just have to start without him.”
She clasped her hands and fixed a smile on her face. “Alright everyone, as you already know, my name is Mrs. Choi. Over the next two years, we will be working together, so we have to set a few ground rules.”
She got up and got out a pen, gesturing to the whiteboard behind her. “First of all, I need everyone here to be respectful towards each other. You should listen and engage with what others have to say as much as you can, but it is not your place to judge them.”
While noting down what she just said on the whiteboard, she continued, “You may not agree with everything everyone says and that is okay. You may wonder why they acted a certain way and you don’t have to understand every decision someone made. But even if you strongly disagree with the choices someone has made, please speak to them respectfully.”
She sternly looked around the group, “We have to learn to trust each other here and that won’t happen if you pass judgement on others for their actions.”
After seeing everyone nod, the smile returned to her face and she went on, “I think it goes without saying, but outside of this group you are not allowed to talk about what the other patients told you. You may talk about your own problems however you see fit, but theirs are to remain private and within this room. Is that clear?”
Once again everyone nodded, so Mrs. Choi stated, “You may talk to each other outside of this room, but I ask of you, please do not talk about therapy outside of our sessions. Try not to therapize one another or talk about any of the issues relating to the sessions.”
After she finished writing it down she turned around to find a confused look on some of the faces so she explained, “It is for your own good, what we are talking about here is very sensitive and I would hate to see you jeopardize your treatment by trying to therapize each other unsupervised. There is a reason why you are all here in my office, because I am a licensed therapist and can make sure everything remains safe throughout the sessions.”
Safe? Jisung was still somewhat confused by this, but nodded anyways, not wanting to be the only one who still looked apprehensive after her explanation. So he just watched as Mrs. Choi finished noting everything down on her whiteboard.
As she turned to face the group again, her face was relaxed and emitting a sense of reassurance. This served as a stark contrast to the words that followed, which had Jisung’s stomach plummeting.
“To start today’s session off, I would like all of you to introduce yourselves. Tell us your first name, how old you are and what brought you here today, so we can get a first impression of each other.”
Introducing? He knew he would have to speak at some point during the group therapy session, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet, not now. Maybe he was gonna die after all. Or maybe he was just gonna bolt and never look back.
As Jisung was already planning his great escape, one of the other patients spoke up. The man who had entered the room first after Jisung. His voice was firm as he introduced himself and by the time he finished Jisung regrettably realised he had not heard a single word the other man had just said.
As Mrs. Choi suggested they just continue making the rounds introducing themselves, relief flooded Jisung as he realised he would go last. That gave him at least a couple more minutes to think of something to say that would not make him look like a complete idiot.
He willed himself to focus on what the woman who introduced herself next was saying. Her name was Sooyoung, so far so good. She appeared to be a bit older than Jisung, which she confirmed in her introduction, but anything after that was lost, as his thoughts kept drifting back to the thought of introducing himself.
Why was he here? How was he supposed to put that into a couple of sentences? His thoughts kept jumping from one possibility to the next, but nothing stuck long enough to manifest into a proper sentence.
Anxiety? Depression? Was that enough, though? Did he have to talk about how he hadn’t been to uni in months and flunked out of his last courses because he couldn’t focus on anything or stand the thought of leaving his house?
Or about how he was still living with his dad? About how he couldn’t function like a proper adult should and take care of himself, so he had to rely on his disabled father? About how he couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal or when he last went to bed at a reasonable time?
The latter he probably wouldn’t have to mention as it became abundantly clear just by looking at him. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, he knew this despite rarely looking in the mirror. But how could they not, if he was up late at night gaming and slept through most of the day? If he was honest with himself, today's therapy session had been the first time in weeks, (or maybe months?) he had gotten up at 8am.
The lack of sunlight also affected his skin, as his honey skin tone had turned paler and developed a slightly greyish hue. His nails were short from biting them and the hems of his hoodie frayed from picking at them. It was his favourite, which was also obvious at first glance.
The print on the front had mostly washed off and its originally dark blue colour had faded to a lighter, blueish grey. There was a small stain on the left sleeve that wouldn’t come out, no matter how many times he tried. And still, without giving it a second thought it was what he reached for this morning, because it was what he felt most comfortable in.
It made him feel invisible in the best way. It was really loose on him, even more so now that it had lost most of its shape from getting too much wear.
Although it might also be because Jisung himself had lost some weight, adding to the oversized look. But he couldn’t be sure, since he didn’t care enough to step on a scale. It would make sense though, since over the past months he had mostly lost his appetite. Was that also worth mentioning? Should he...-
“Mr. Han? Are you with us? It's your turn,” Mrs. Choi said to him softly. His face flushed immediately as he realised he had not listened to a single thing the other patients had said and now it was his turn and he was yet to figure out what to say.
He furiously started picking at his nails, eyes fixed to the ground with his mouth opening to speak words he hadn’t quite found yet.
“I uhm...” he began quietly, but to his relief he was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the doorbell. A long sound, much longer than Jisung had dared to press the button, and Mrs. Choi’s face scrunched up a bit at the interruption, but she excused herself as she left the room to deal with whoever had abused the doorbell so furiously.
Some of the other patients started chatting while the therapist was gone, but Jisung’s mind went back to jumping back and forth between things he might say about himself.
Both the chatter and his thoughts were immediately silenced though as the door was swung open fiercely. Startled by the force used to push the door open, Jisung’s gaze flew up from where it had been stuck on his nails and he watched with wide eyes as a man entered.
Scratch that. Through the door stepped in confident strides what was quite possibly the most attractive man Jisung had ever laid eyes on. His eyes immediately found those of the stranger and while his first instinct was to look away, for some reason, he found himself captivated by the stranger's eyes.
They were an impossibly dark shade of brown. He had a fierce look, with a slant to his eyes that made them seem almost a bit feline. Like a cat locking its eyes onto its prey just before pouncing. The fierceness in his look was, however, contrasted by how big his eyes were and the number of dark, thick and long lashes that framed them. This gave him a soft edge, making him look almost innocent, if not for that mischievous glimmer Jisung couldn’t quite place which reflected from the dark surfaces.
Next, he noticed a straight nose and high cheekbones, which Jisung couldn’t quite decide if it made his face look more like an actor from a K-Drama or just like it was straight up sculpted by the gods.
As Jisung’s gaze travelled down the intruder’s face he found soft and pillowy-looking lips. The upper one appeared to be bit fuller than the bottom one and he noticed how they formed a pretty smirk that sent chills down Jisung’s spine. “Is that seat taken?” he asked, pointing at the empty chair to his left.
Jisung gulped visibly. He tried to answer, he really did, but the words got stuck in his throat, so he just shook his head. The man’s voice had completely taken him by surprise, a lot softer and a bit higher than he would have expected. He was even more grateful for his hoodie now, as he felt goosebumps spreading down his arms just from that one question.
The man took the empty seat next to him and Jisung could feel himself blushing even further when he sat down. His manner was relaxed and he looked almost like he owned the space. His legs were spread further apart than Jisung’s, his thighs alone- oh godohgod his thighs- taking up twice as much room as his own and he propped his right arm up on the back of the chair. If Jisung had any fight in him at all, he might have understood this gesture as a challenge of sorts.
However, this also meant that his body was facing Jisung’s direction.
He was sure the stranger had not done that on purpose, rather he was probably trying to look at Mrs. Choi and Jisung just so happened to be in the way.
But Christ, if it didn’t make it even more impossible for Jisung to focus. How was it even possible to be that attractive? Fucking hell, the guy looked unreal, Jisung thought, as he subconsciously returned to picking at his nails.
A knot seemed to tie in his stomach as he noticed how shiny black hair framed the stranger’s pale face and perfect skin- how was it possible to have skin that smooth and flawless? Was he a statue?
Maybe he wasn’t real after all. Maybe, just maybe, Jisung had died and gone to heaven. Or maybe hell, because he would have to look at this perfect specimen of a human being for the better part of 60 minutes now.
Ample time to think about all the ways that stranger just ruined his day even more just by being so damn perfect and thereby reminding him of all the ways he himself was less than. Life was not fair, Jisung decided.
His self-pitying thoughts were harshly interrupted by Mrs. Choi as she clapped her hands once and said, “Mr. Lee, I’m so glad you could make it after all. We were just doing introductions, would you like to go ahead and tell us your name, age and what brought you here?”
Okay, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, since his appearance had bought Jisung a bit more time before he had to fight for his life again trying to introduce himself to the small group.
The man, who was apparently the mysterious Mr. Lee Mrs. Choi had mentioned before, exhaled once through his nose. It sounded almost like a scoff, then he sat up a bit straighter and cleared his throat, before starting.
“Hi, I’m Minho. I’m 26 years old. I apologize for showing up late on our first day, but something came up.”
Mrs. Choi nodded, urging him to continue. So he did.
“I guess I’m here because I’ve recently been dealing with symptoms of stress and anxiety? At least that’s what my friends say. They are shitheads, but unfortunately, they are right most of the time.”
Almost everyone let out a small chuckle. Jisung was slightly taken aback by his crude word choice and couldn’t help but let out a small disbelieving laugh as well.
Luckily, Minho’s introduction and easy-going manner helped calm his nerves somewhat and to Jisung’s surprise he realised he had paid attention to every word that came out of his annoyingly perfect mouth.
Mrs. Choi nodded and signalled for Jisung to continue where he had left off. With no way out, he took a steadying breath and started talking in a small voice.
“My name is Jisung, I’m 24. I struggle with social anxiety and depression, I guess.”
Despite looking at his hands, he could feel Minho’s sharp eyes on him.
Mrs. Choi nodded reluctantly, for a second, it seemed like she was going to press for more information but decided against it. Instead, she carried on. She encouraged her patients to start asking questions about what they had each said, anything they were curious about. Since it was their first session together, they were just supposed to get to know each other a bit today, before starting their biographic endeavours in the weeks to come.
She explained they would each get a session to talk about their life so far and what had brought them here in more detail, so they could get a better picture of what brought them together in this room.
That meant he would have to talk about himself and his life for over an hour on end in front of all these strangers. He was right, he must have died and gone to hell, because this felt like divine punishment.
Sooyoung asked the man she had entered with a question, but before his brain could figure out what she had said, the noise just turned to static in his ears. How could he trust those people he had never met before with thoughts he couldn’t even share with his dad?
How could he be sure, they wouldn’t laugh at him like the kids did back in school, anytime he opened his mouth?
How could he be sure, his deepest secrets and thoughts would be safe in this room?
He hadn’t felt like he could trust anyone with anything in years, so why would he be able to now? This was a stupid idea, stupid, stupid, stupid!
He didn’t even feel his breathing pick up as his brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton and the conversations around him felt far away.
“Hey, Jisung, are you okay?” Without him noticing, Minho had leaned a bit closer to him and whispered just those five words. Despite still being a respectable distance away, Jisung could feel Minho’s breath hit the side of his face and the goosebumps immediately returned to his arms as he smelled a hint of fresh mint coming from the other.
Surprisingly, the minty smell and the sound of his name spoken in that soft voice was enough to pull Jisung out of the hole he was slipping down, as he blinked away the tears he hadn’t realised had formed in his eyes.
The tips of his ears turned red and once more he was grateful for the security provided by his hoodie, as the hood hid his flushing from the guy responsible for it. So he just nodded and offered a small, tight-lipped smile.
“Yeah, thanks,” he whispered back, but his voice came out rougher than he had anticipated.
He could feel Minho’s eyes on himself even seconds after he had reassured him that he was fine. Jisung was starting to squirm under his scrutiny, when he was rescued by the guy who had first entered the room after Jisung, who thankfully started asking Minho a question.
“Minho, right? You didn’t hear, since I went first, but I’m Doyun.” He waited, as Minho tore his eyes off Jisung and rapidly seemed to blink himself back into reality. A small nod allowed Doyun to continue.
“Nice to meet you man. Anyways, I was wondering, you mentioned you experienced symptoms of stress and anxiety. What are those for you?”
“Ah well I’ve been having a really hard time relaxing recently. I mean, I’ve always worked hard, but recently I seem to be spending all my off time at the studio. When I try to go for walks it just pisses me off so much that I start running instead. Stuff like that.”
Doyun grunted in agreement and said something along the lines of how he also has a hard time focusing on things, but Jisung’s mind once again doesn’t really register.
Studio? What studio was he talking about?
The room went quiet and Minho turned to him with a perplexed expression.
“I own a self-defence and dance studio, together with two of my mates.”
Oh.
He asked that out loud, huh?
Yup, hell. The worst timeline. If this turned out to be a nightmare, now would be a good time to wake up.
But he did not, in fact, wake up.
Instead, Minho offered him a slight reassuring smile. The conversation continued as normal, no one said anything. He wasn’t called an idiot for asking or told to shut his stupid mouth.
On the contrary, Minho answered him and appeared pleased by his interest.
“Jisung, what do you do?” he asked cautiously, as if he was trying to approach a wild squirrel without spooking it.
Jisung gulped. He could do it, it was just talking about mundane stuff.
“I uhm, I’m still in uni, kinda. I mean, I haven’t really been there in months now, but I’m studying engineering. At least I think I still am. I haven’t managed to open my mails to check if they expelled me for flunking my last few tests,” he rambled nervously.
Oh god, he was definitely oversharing.
He was asked a simple question, not for his life story. Why can he never just shut up before it gets embarrassing? Now this perfect stranger who owns his own business knows that he’s an almost drop-out and a bum. Great.
But instead of judging looks or snarky remarks, Jisung received a sympathetic look and some words of understanding. Huh. That’s not at all how he expected this to go.
He looked to Mrs. Choi for guidance and she also met his eyes with an understanding look and a kind smile before guiding the attention off Jisung again.
This gave him a chance to take a deep breath. How come he hadn’t noticed he was holding it? And... was that blood? He realised he had picked the skin next to his nail on his index finger a bit too aggressively while talking.
But he managed to answer the question, apparently without making a complete fool of himself. He should definitely bring a fidget toy next time, so he could spare his poor nails from being picked at. He scolded himself for not bringing one in the first place.
Then maybe, this could work.
Once again, Minho’s quiet voice took him by surprise as he noticed his attentive gaze trained on his bleeding finger. “Here, take this,” he whispered and offered Jisung a small, travel-sized Rubik’s cube. His tone was indecipherable, but his eyes showed a spark of worry.
Jisung’s eyes went wide as he asked if Minho was sure, while subconsciously already reaching out for the toy. Grateful for the distraction he closed his fingers around the cube. He had never been good at solving them, but it gave his hands something to do.
The rest of the session passed in a blur, the stress made it hard for Jisung to focus, but throughout the session his anxious energy slowly started dissipating a bit and he noticed that he could breathe easier than at the start.
It was a lot. A lot to take in, all the new people and the setting but before he knew it, Mrs. Choi said her goodbyes and Minho immediately jumped up and walked out as briskly as he had stepped in.
Jisung absentmindedly took a bit longer to gather up his jacket and only after putting it on he realised he still held Minho’s Rubik’s cube in his hand. He quickly mumbled his goodbye to Mrs. Choi, stepped out of the room and jogged down the hallway only to see Minho standing outside the building, smoking a cigarette.
“Excuse me,” Jisung said hesitantly. Minho spun around to face him and raised a questioning eyebrow without responding. “I forgot to give this back. Thank you very much,” Jisung added as he held out the small toy.
Minho exhaled the smoke away from Jisung and nodded. “It’s okay, you can keep it if you want.”
Jisung slowly started shaking his head, then he remembered the at least 30 minutes he’d be spending on the bus and feeling his head still spinning from the therapy session, he considered Minho’s offer.
“Are you sure it’s okay? You’ll get it back next week, I promise. It’s just that I have a long bus ride ahead of me and I don’t really want to endanger my fingers anymore,” he chuckled nervously.
Minho shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just get back home safe, okay? You seemed pretty out of it during the session, are you gonna be okay by yourself?”
Jisung blushed at the kindness this complete stranger offered him, why did everything Minho said apparently have that effect on him? But he nodded anyway, thanked him again and turned to leave.
He’d have to hurry if he didn’t want to wait an hour for the next bus.