Therapist
Therapist
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Genre: ?
Word Count: 383
Summary: Sodam is not a good therapist.
Sodam is technically only nineteen, and still has four more years to go until her degree is done, but both her professor and the school counselor agreed that she could try. It'd get her extra credit points, and would look very good on a resume.
"Maybe he'll talk to you because you're closer to his age. It might make him feel more comfortable."
Sodam thinks that's a load a bull, because Jinki is just sitting across from her, making no move to talk to her at all. So she tries to start. "Hi Jinki," she says, smiling.
"Hi noona," he parrots, smiling back. It looks like a genuine smile, and she'd believe it if she couldn't see the bruise creeping up his neck and onto his jaw over the collar of his uniform.
"We suspect-hell, we know!-that he's being abused, but we can't intervene until we get a name. It could be home, it could be bullies at school, a job we don't know about. Try to get it out of him."
"Got any plans for today?" she asks, trying to make small talk even though she's terrible at it.
"Planning to ask me on a date?" he asks in return, wiggling his eyebrows and pretending to slick his hair back.
Sodam laughs, not having expected it even though she should have. Jinki is smart-he's not going to metaphorically walk into her poorly set up trap. She tries other questions, and Jinki deflects each one with playful banter and flat jokes-that actually aren't as bad as people make them out to be. It's fun, but it's frustrating too; she's getting nowhere at all.
The bell rings to signal the end of lunch and Jinki stands, shouldering his backpack with a visible wince. It makes her frown, sighing heavily.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes, hesitating by the door. "For being unhelpful," he clarifies, ducking his head before raising it, a small smile on his face. "But I already have someone that I talk to, so don't worry okay?"
And then he's gone before she can get any hints as to who his confidant is. She groans, dropping her head to the desk and childishly stomping her feet. She'll never be a therapist at this rate.
At least not a good one.
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Genre: ?
Word Count: 383
Summary: Sodam is not a good therapist.
Sodam is technically only nineteen, and still has four more years to go until her degree is done, but both her professor and the school counselor agreed that she could try. It'd get her extra credit points, and would look very good on a resume.
"Maybe he'll talk to you because you're closer to his age. It might make him feel more comfortable."
Sodam thinks that's a load a bull, because Jinki is just sitting across from her, making no move to talk to her at all. So she tries to start. "Hi Jinki," she says, smiling.
"Hi noona," he parrots, smiling back. It looks like a genuine smile, and she'd believe it if she couldn't see the bruise creeping up his neck and onto his jaw over the collar of his uniform.
"We suspect-hell, we know!-that he's being abused, but we can't intervene until we get a name. It could be home, it could be bullies at school, a job we don't know about. Try to get it out of him."
"Got any plans for today?" she asks, trying to make small talk even though she's terrible at it.
"Planning to ask me on a date?" he asks in return, wiggling his eyebrows and pretending to slick his hair back.
Sodam laughs, not having expected it even though she should have. Jinki is smart-he's not going to metaphorically walk into her poorly set up trap. She tries other questions, and Jinki deflects each one with playful banter and flat jokes-that actually aren't as bad as people make them out to be. It's fun, but it's frustrating too; she's getting nowhere at all.
The bell rings to signal the end of lunch and Jinki stands, shouldering his backpack with a visible wince. It makes her frown, sighing heavily.
"I'm sorry," he apologizes, hesitating by the door. "For being unhelpful," he clarifies, ducking his head before raising it, a small smile on his face. "But I already have someone that I talk to, so don't worry okay?"
And then he's gone before she can get any hints as to who his confidant is. She groans, dropping her head to the desk and childishly stomping her feet. She'll never be a therapist at this rate.
At least not a good one.