(for toro-nagashi) pills n potions ✸ part 1 of 2
❊ for: toro-nagashi
❊ title: pills n potions
❊ pairings: kai/d.o, chanyeol/baekhyun, mentioned!tao/kris
❊ rating: r
❊ warnings: drug abuse, alcoholism, depression, mentions of anxiety, single-father!jongin, mentions of rape
❊ word count: 10,821
❊ summary: Kyungsoo and Jongin are just a lonely psychiatrist and a broken patient, but things change.
❊ a/n: this was a challenge for me as i'm not familiar with angst, but i hope you enjoy! also i'm sorry if the ending is shitty i really had no clue how to conclude this :-))
Kyungsoo taps his pen against his bottom lip, eyes boring into the tired dark ones that stare back at him. Sunken eyes hidden in almond-shaped lids that seem soulless, like dirtied black pearls, don’t feel like they belong on this specific patient of his. Such a pretty face, really, only ruined by the man’s haggard appearance. Bronze skin paled from pitiful nourishment stretches over high cheekbones and a straight nose, accompanied with messy bleached hair-if he wasn’t so ill-looking, Kyungsoo figures he could be a model.
But dressed in a black sweater and tight-fitting sweatpants of the same color, he doubts he ever was a model.
He glances back down at the clipboard in his lap.
-Kim Jongin
-grew up in Seoul, lives with his older brother in Gangnam specifically
-23
-went to rehab for alcohol addiction, two months clean
Those are all the notes he has and all of them were told to him by Jongin’s older brother, Junmyeon. In fact, Jongin has hardly uttered a word in the forty-something minutes they’ve been in this therapy session. Kyungsoo asks questions, but all he replies with is no or I don’t want to talk about that. Kyungsoo’s even been met with complete silence as Jongin slumps further into the pristine leather sofa.
“How was your childhood?” Kyungsoo decides to ask. “Was it good? Did you get along with your family?”
Jongin just gives him that blank, tired stare before slowly moving to recline against the length of the couch like a classic shrink scene. The younger man kicks up his tattered shoes to rest his bare feet on the opposite arm rest. Kyungsoo reminds himself to get someone to disinfect that later.
Kyungsoo thinks Jongin isn’t going to bother answering him, but to his surprise he actually opens his mouth and speaks quietly, staring up at the white ceiling.
“It was fine. I grew up normally. I wasn’t some fucked up child, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jongin spits accusingly. “My parents are good people.”
His ballpoint pen glides across the paper smoothly and calmly, used to his patients thinking he was trying to point fingers. They are just standard questions he has to ask. Kyungsoo is a little happy that Jongin actually said something of worth, and he knows now that he doesn’t have to focus on that section of the younger man’s life.
Once his notes are perfected, Kyungsoo looks up. “I wasn’t thinking that, Jongin. I had to ask it since you don’t seem keen on telling me anything if you aren’t prompted to,” he admits with a sigh. “If we can get to what is pushing you into this depression, I can help you.”
Most patients are like Jongin though. Being stubborn and keeping it inside is a coping method, a common one. Not to mention, he knows it’s hard to trust him at first. Telling a stranger about your pain is never an option welcomed with open arms.
The only difference is what Junmyeon, Jongin’s brother, told Kyungsoo makes him worried. After Jongin finished rehab, Junmyeon thought he would be fine, but Jongin began to have terrible nightmares that had him thrashing and panicking whenever Junmyeon would wake him up and try to pacify him. An example of psychosis as it sounds, which is common in patients who went through trauma.
Kyungsoo is determined to find out what sort of trauma Jongin suffered, something that made him drown his soul in alcohol and lose his path in life.
But it will be a while before he can get to that stage of therapy, it seems.
“Do you have any hobbies, Jongin?” he asks, pushing his round glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
Jongin glances at the psychiatrist for a moment before redirecting his gaze to the ceiling again. “I don’t have any,” he mumbles. “I used to dance when I was in high school, jazz and ballet.” Obviously tired, he rubs at his eyes, shaking his head to get rid of the dizzy feeling.
Observing his mannerisms closely, Kyungsoo jots down Jongin’s blatant sleeping problems, as if the bags underneath his eyes aren’t enough proof. He has a feeling that it’s connected to his fit of psychosis, but they aren’t at the point where Kyungsoo can just ask about it.
“Did you want to become a dancer?”
Jongin doesn’t bother to answer that one, remaining still and silent on the couch. And after a minute of waiting, Kyungsoo sighs softly. Capping his pen, he sets it aside with his clipboard and takes off of his glasses. “We’re done for today. It was nice meeting you, Jongin. Remember to come to your next appointment, alright?”
He gets to his feet, moving from the couch to his desk and placing his pen and clipboard there. Turning around, he watches Jongin slip on his shoes and move towards the door.
Kyungsoo speaks up, and the other man pauses in the doorway. “Please be more open-minded. I know you don’t want to do this, but I’m here to help you.”
Jongin says nothing, just looks at the psychiatrist with those soulless, exhausted black eyes before disappearing out of his office. Kyungsoo hears his receptionist, Sooyoung, bid Jongin goodbye momentarily, and then the door shuts quietly. The small square of frosted glass on the door mocks him with its professionally printed black letters spelling Do Kyungsoo - Psychiatrist.
It saddens him that this is another one of those inflexible cases, but Jongin has every right to resist something so personal that his brother forced him in to. Kyungsoo has plenty of time to try and get him to open up. He’s been in this job for a few years now, being the young-old age of twenty-eight; he has to have some sort of knack for it.
Kyungsoo always knew he wanted to go into mental health since an early age and with amazing grades to match, it was natural that he was able to go to university and get a psychology degree. He chose to specialize in mainly psychotherapy, which is the talking portion, and get his own office with the money left for him by his mother. Most patients don’t require a diagnosis or any sort of medication, only coming to sort things out in their lives or vent, but Kyungsoo has the ability to write prescriptions and such.
There are more serious cases like Jongin’s too.
He’s in the middle of cleaning his glasses, after placing the lone document of his and Jongin’s first meeting in a file, when Sooyoung knocks once on the door before entering.
“Mr. Huang and Mr. Wu are here,” the young woman chirps with a smile.
Kyungsoo sighs. He hates doing couples’ therapy, and Zitao and Yifan are in and out every week it seems. Sometimes they’re sending glares and saying everything is falling apart, or they’re holding hands and sending loving glances. They refuse to break up, however.
“Send them in,” Kyungsoo replies, grabbing his handy clipboard once more and putting his glasses back on.
Sooyoung nods and leans out to call the couple in. Kyungsoo instantly hears their ceaseless arguing and decides it’s going to be one of those meetings.
As the weeks pass, Kyungsoo continues to have his sessions with Jongin every Wednesday. Four more meetings come and go, and so far he’s made zero progress in getting Jongin to talk about anything serious. He learns that Jongin’s parents own a bakery, that he has an older sister named Hyojung, and that Jongin worked at a convenience store when he was still in college and lived alone. Apparently, his interest in dance brought him to wanting to major in that field at a local arts university.
Yet, he doesn’t elaborate on what caused his life to fall apart and become flooded in alcohol.
Kyungsoo mulls over the details as he sits at his desk, his last session of the day already over. He regularly stays a little late to gather his thoughts with each patient, and after meeting Jongin earlier this morning, he can’t help his thoughts becoming steered towards the tired man.
Looking at his notes, nothing can give him any answers as to what trauma the younger male went through. So far, all he can figure is that Jongin definitely has insomnia with how he seems to get more tired with each visit. There haven’t been any more fits of psychosis as far as he knows, but Kyungsoo wants to prevent that as it can sometimes lead to suicide and other dangerous activities.
He sighs and places the few papers into Jongin’s file, leaning down to put it in the drawer of his desk. In the midst of filing it correctly, the door to his office opens and Kyungsoo cranes his head up from his hunched over position to see Baekhyun, a close friend of his since college.
“Hey, Kyungsoo, you done yet?” the older man asks, plopping himself down on one of the leather sofas like he owns the place.
“Why are you here?” Kyungsoo furrows his brows, though he should be used to Baekhyun arriving unexpectedly. “Shouldn’t you be bothering Chanyeol or something?”
“No, I just wanted to know if you wanted to go grab some dinner-with Chanyeol, of course,” he clarifies with a wink.
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, remembering the days he shared a flat with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, the two lovebirds constantly getting on his nerves. He’s glad he lives on his own now, but they still come around to nag and bug him to go out and do things. His life mainly exists between work and sleep these days anyways.
“I can go. Just let me finish up some things,” he answers, bending back down to file his notes for Jongin and his other patients. Baekhyun talks to him incessantly as he works to put things away and do last minute checks, asking about this and that. It grows quiet as Kyungsoo replies to an email from an old intern, asking for the number of another psychiatrist. Grumbling, he picks up and unzips his bag to pull out his cell phone, searching for his contacts.
“Hey, Kyungsoo, you aren’t…are you still taking those pills?”
He freezes, blood turning to ice and heart jumping in surprise. Kyungsoo promptly recovers though, trying to calm his heart as the anxiety burns his throat. Turning back to his computer, he types up a quick reply to the email and replies shortly, “No, I’m not.” It’s a bad lie, and he knows it.
There’s an exhale, and then Baekhyun stands up, keys jingling as he pulls them from his pocket. “Just…be careful, okay? You promised you would stop. I don’t want to send you to rehab.”
Kyungsoo shoots him a glare, ignoring how his hands sweat and shake as he turns off the desktop computer. “I know,” he says softly, getting up and taking his things, following Baekhyun out the door of his office and turning off the lights.
A cold sweat gathers at the nape of his neck and jitters run down his spine.
He can hear the rattling of the pills in their small orange bottle, packed tight in his bag, echoing with each step.
“I’m trying.”
Kyungsoo gets home late, being held up in the restaurant as Chanyeol went on and on about his work as a pastry chef. His job keeps him busy, so it’s not often they see each other, unlike Kyungsoo and Baekhyun.
He throws his bag in the corner to forget about it, controlling his breathing now that he’s alone. His hands shake as he makes his way to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes and jumping immediately into a cold shower.
Once he can breathe normally, Kyungsoo turns the water temperature to something mild and normal and takes a real shower.
Taking those anti-anxiety pills wasn’t supposed to become like this.
He’s exhausted by the time he gets out of the bathroom, dressed in some boxers and a t-shirt. He towel-dries his hair and takes a seat on his bed, admiring his small and quaint apartment. It’s actually bland and decorated sparsely, considering he’s quite the boring person. There aren’t many personal touches apart from a few pictures and things he picked out himself.
Kyungsoo is brushing his short hair in front of the mirror when his phone rings from the confines of his bag. Thinking it could be urgent, he strides over quickly and fishes it out, recognizing the number as Kim Junmyeon, Jongin’s brother. He panics, thinking something might have happened to Jongin, only to remember Junmyeon usually checks up after each meeting.
“Hello?” he answers the call, placing his brush onto the nightstand and sitting on the bed again.
“Sorry for the late call,” Junmyeon chuckles nervously, “I’ve been busy arguing with my editor all night.” Being a famous author, it doesn’t seem odd that he’d be busy.
“It’s fine. I’m guessing you called to ask how Jongin’s session went today?”
“Yes-Jongin, try and go to sleep already. It’s nearly one AM,” there’s a pause and Kyungsoo can hear muffled voices before Junmyeon’s sighing into the receiver. “I’m sorry I’m being nosy, but I’m worried about him. He doesn’t seem to be getting any better. I stay home all day because I’m afraid he’ll relapse if I’m gone. Has he told you anything?”
Kyungsoo shifts to lie down. “It takes some time for things to happen, but I will admit that Jongin’s progress is slow. He tells me things, but it’s never something relating to what might have pushed him to alcoholism, Mr. Kim.”
“Just Junmyeon is fine, and I understand. Um, has Jongin told you about his family-like all of it?” the other man seems hesitant.
“Yes, I believe so,” Kyungsoo knits his brows together in confusion. “Do you have a reason to think your family is related to his depression?”
Junmyeon is silent, and the psychiatrist begins to think he’s hung up or something before he speaks again. “Jongin has a son, Dr. Do, and the mother-the mother of his son is in prison for drug distribution and trafficking. I don’t know much about what happened since I was in America during that period of Jongin’s life, but if he’s withheld that information from you then it must be important.”
Kyungsoo brain blanks out, completely caught off guard with the new information. He can’t believe Jongin didn’t let anything related to something that big slip. Junmyeon is entirely right. Clearing his throat, he blinks to disperse the mild shock. “Thank you for telling me that, Junmyeon. I’ll try and bring up the topic with him at the next meeting.”
“You’re welcome, thank you for trying your best to help Jongin. I know he’s stubborn.”
“I’m just doing my job. Goodnight, Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo listens to Junmyeon’s reply before ending the call. He stares at the ceiling, trying to process and fit together the pieces of the puzzle. If Jongin had a son with a drug addict, then it would make sense that it was a painful subject, but he can’t help but think it can’t be just that. Is it just from the guilt of his son having a bad mother? It can’t be. There’s something else, something Junmyeon doesn’t know.
He’s unable to sleep that night, thoughts spinning around the possibilities.
“Dr. Do, Mr. Kim Jongin is here to see you,” Sooyoung notifies with her head poking in the door as usual.
“Send him in,” Kyungsoo murmurs, taking a seat on one of the two couches that face each other. With his clipboard in his lap and pen in hand, he watches Jongin walk in a moment later.
Dressed in the usual sweatpants fashion, the younger man sits down across from his psychiatrist. His hair is messy and there’s a 5 o’clock shadow on his jaw. Purple shadows below his eyes suggest Jongin still hasn’t gotten a sufficient amount of sleep. He doesn’t look at Kyungsoo, gaze focusing on his feet as he slumps against the padded back of the couch.
“How are you feeling today, Jongin? Have you gotten any sleep lately?” Kyungsoo starts out by asking even if the obvious answer to the latter question is no.
“I’m tired,” he answers simply, rubbing at his nose. “I tried sleeping, but I-I can’t. I’m scared.”
His eyebrows rising at the new information, Kyungsoo jots down that he can’t sleep due to fear. Fear of what?
“Why are you scared? Do you get nightmares?” he questions, wide eyes meeting Jongin’s tired ones from behind his specs.
“Yes,” Jongin says before pressing his dry lips together in a gesture that he doesn’t want to admit any more than that.
Kyungsoo may be curious, but he isn’t cruel and doesn’t like to pry in areas that Jongin isn’t comfortable speaking about. He writes down that Jongin has nightmares and makes a little note to suggest giving him sleeping pills. It’s a thought for later when he’s sure Jongin won’t misuse them if he prescribes the medication.
Yet, he has to speed up the process somehow, so he parts his lips and asks about a sensitive subject recently brought to light.
“Jongin, you have a son, right? How come you never talk about him?” the psychiatrist asks gently in a soft tone, looking the younger straight in the eye and watching as Jongin suddenly stiffens in surprise.
Emotion shows in his black eyes for once, and Jongin’s back straightens as he shifts back to press closer to the sofa like he wants to run away and avoid the conversation. “How did you k-know?” Jongin’s words sound strained.
“Junmyeon told me,” Kyungsoo explains honestly, “but he didn’t tell me any more than the fact that you have a son, Jongin. If this is something important in your life, we need to talk about it, okay?” He wants to reassure the other man that he didn’t go snooping around. The last thing he wants is to lose Jongin’s trust the moment he has it.
And he’s afraid he did as Jongin falls silent. Kyungsoo thinks he’ll refuse to speak like their first few sessions. Thankfully, it isn’t the case as Jongin’s posture relaxes a bit and he reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. Kyungsoo opens his mouth to ask what he’s doing, but he’s interrupted as seconds later his patient turns his phone around stretches his arm out to show Kyungsoo a picture.
It’s a baby, a little younger than twelve months it seems, smiling a gummy smile and wearing a cute onesie designed to look like a brown bear, hood pulled up over his head. Kyungsoo smiles at the adorable sight, definitely seeing the resemblance between Jongin and his son.
“He’s cute,” Kyungsoo coos as Jongin pulls the phone away, “he looks just like you, Jongin. What’s his name?”
There’s a small twitch at the corner of Jongin’s lips, like he wants to smile but can’t. Bringing the phone to his lap, he looks at the picture of his baby with a certain fondness Kyungsoo’s never seen in his eyes. It’s obvious that this isn’t a case of Jongin not mentioning his child because he doesn’t like him.
“His name is Taeoh. I…I named him that,” he murmurs, hesitant. He cradles the phone in his hand like a treasure, and Kyungsoo can hear the love in his voice. “He’s nine months old.”
The psychiatrist hums, writing it down. “It’s a good name. Does Taeoh live with you and Junmyeon?”
A crestfallen expression claims Jongin’s visage as he slowly shakes his head. “He’s…lived with my parents since he was born. I haven’t really been around him since. Mom sends me pictures and asks me to come over, but I never do.”
“Why not, why doesn’t he live with you?” Kyungsoo inquires. It’s not accusing, just plain curiosity. It could have something to do with Jongin’s mental state, but Jongin would tell him if it did.
Jongin doesn’t answer his question and instead says, “I want to be more involved with his life but-I can’t. It’s hard. The guilt hurts, and it’s part of the reason why drinking helped. It helped me cope.” His voice becomes thickened with emotion, but there are no tears.
This is the first time he’s actually mentioned something that contributed to his depression, so Kyungsoo swiftly records it on paper. He wants to ask more, especially relating to the topic of Taeoh’s mother, but it’s obvious Jongin is trying to avoid it. So he considers the mentioning of Taeoh a victory of its own, and instead asks to see more pictures. Kyungsoo finds joy in watching a little bit of life spark in Jongin’s eyes.
Kyungsoo draws in a shuddering breath, the room spinning around him as he lies limp on the mattress. The darkness is calming to his eyes as they focus on and off constantly. He’s so tired, eyelids feeling heavy, but it feels so nice. A crooked smile decorates his mouth as he turns his head to the side, rubbing his cheek against the soft material of his sheets as a croaked laugh leaves his dry throat.
His heart thumps in his chest to a slow, uneven tempo, pulse jumping every so often. The high is relaxing and thrilling all at once. Breathing heavily, he closes his eyes at the feeling of a hand running through his hair.
“It’s okay, my sweet boy. Mother is here; no one can hurt you,” a soft, familiar voice whispers to him. Kyungsoo hums in reply, opening his hazy eyes to the sight of his mother sitting on the edge of the bed, looking just as radiant as she did five years ago.
He grins lazily at her blurred silhouette, drool dribbling down the corner of his lips. “I…love you, Mom,” he croons, reaching out to touch her arm, feeling the soft cotton of her shirt. “Don’t…don’t leave, okay?”
“The world is scary, Kyungsoo,” his mother whispers, the words echoing in Kyungsoo’s head, “but you can face it on your own. I’ll always be here.”
Then why did you jump off that bridge melts on his tongue as his heavy-lidded eyes finally close.
Hunched over the desk in his office, Kyungsoo reads the diary left for him from his previous patient. Minseok is such an easygoing patient, always sharing his thoughts and asking what he should do to get over his social anxiety. He genuinely wants to get better at socializing and is glad to tell Kyungsoo the abuse he suffered from his controlling ex, what caused him to be scared to speak in the first place.
Only halfway through the small, leather-bound book, he glances at the time with a groan but goes back to reading. It’s getting late, Sooyoung long gone and most shops closing up. He needs to finish this before his session with Minseok tomorrow, not to mention analyze and not skim through it.
His cellphone suddenly starts to ring, causing Kyungsoo to jump out of his intense reading. Placing a hand on his heart, he shakes off the shock and picks up his phone.
It’s Junmyeon.
Kyungsoo blinks. Junmyeon already checked up on Jongin’s session from two days ago, so why would he be calling now, and this late of all times?
Panicked, he immediately answers, “Hello?”
His ears are instantly assaulted with the sounds of struggle and screaming. “Dr. Do?! Dr. Do, please, come help. Jongin-he was having a nightmare, so I woke him up, and now he’s in a panic. I’m trying to hold him down and calm him, b-but he doesn’t recognize me!” Junmyeon’s breathless voice shouts into the receiver.
Kyungsoo gets up right away, taking out his keys and unlocking one of the drawers of his desk. Yanking it open, he finds a single, small black bag. Inside, he knows there are several syringes and doses of mild tranquilizer, ones he’s certified to use for situations like these.
“I’m heading over right now, Junmyeon. Try to relax him however you can and keep calm,” Kyungsoo hangs up and grabs the rest of his things along with the black bag as fast as he can.
He knows Jongin is having another fit of psychosis, but this is the first one since he’s been visiting Kyungsoo’s office. If these fits of paranoia are triggered by nightmares, it only worsens his worry. It will make it harder for Jongin to sleep, weakening his state of mind and physicality. He has to get to the bottom of what happened to Jongin soon.
Arriving at Junmyeon’s condo, Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to relish in the fancy décor as he hears the screaming and sobbing from the front door, thankfully unlocked as Junmyeon has his hands full. He kicks off his shoes and runs through the lavish place to the source of the noise. Moving to the last room in the hallway, he finds Junmyeon pinning a struggling Jongin down onto the bed, who seems to be fighting well.
“Jongin, Jongin!” Kyungsoo hurries over, dropping his things, grabbing his loose wrist that slipped out of his older brother’s hands and pressing it down to the bed. He uses his other hand to grab Jongin’s jaw, trying to look into his wide, tear-filled eyes. “Jongin, can you hear me? Do you recognize me?”
“Don’t touch me! Stop!” the young man sobs fearfully, zero recognition in his expression as he thrashes. “D-Don’t look at me, please!” He chokes and kicks his legs, causing Junmyeon to wince.
"I-It hurts, please don't," Jongin shudders and cries, heavy tears rolling down his bronze cheeks.
Kyungsoo falters at bit at those statements, a bad feeling stirring in his gut. He tries to talk to Jongin again, but it only proves to scare him more. It leaves him with no choice.
Rolling up Jongin’s sleeve and keeping his wrist pinned to the bed by pressing his knee on it, Kyungsoo bends down the floor and manages to grasp the black bag. Unzipping it, he pulls out one of the syringes and fixing it with a sterile needle and filling it with the right amount of tranquilizer liquid.
“Junmyeon, hold him down as best as you can. I’m going to inject him with this. It’ll help him calm down and sleep,” Kyungsoo informs calmly. The older man swallows and nods, using his entire body to keep Jongin as still as possible, even though he hates to hear Jongin cry and plead to be let go from whatever he’s seeing.
Kyungsoo somehow manages to keep Jongin's arm still enough to inject him expertly. Slowly, the medication does its work in his bloodstream, and Jongin passes out, limbs going limp and allowing the other two men rest.
"Is this what happened before?" Kyungsoo asks, now sitting in Junmyeon's kitchen and sipping green tea after the incident.
Junmyeon nods, expression somber. "I don't know what he dreams about, but it doesn't seem good. He's been getting nightmares like this since he came back from rehab."
"It's called psychosis. It's common with a lot of mental illness patients," Kyungsoo explains. "Jongin just needs to keep going to therapy, though I can't tell you it won't happen again. I think it's a traumatic experience that's haunting Jongin."
Jongin's brother bites his lip, and Kyungsoo knows there's something he's hesitant to mention. “There’s just something I’ve been thinking of…”
"Junmyeon, tell me. I can't afford to wait on Jongin anymore. He's killing himself with this," the psychiatrist murmurs sincerely, pale hands wrapped around the warm mug of tea.
“Well,” Junmyeon starts off, withdrawing his hands to his lap, “as I said before, I wasn’t around for two years because I was living in America. So I didn’t know about Taeoh or what Jongin was going through until I came back a few months ago. And when I did, I heard my parents talking about how Jongin had thrown the responsibility of Taeoh onto them because ‘he said he didn’t want it,’” Junmyeon’s eyes begin to water and his hands tighten to fists in his lap. He looks up at Kyungsoo, his gaze conveying what his mouth couldn’t form in words.
“He said it. I don’t think he meant Taeoh.”
Kyungsoo freezes, his mug halfway to his lips.
He connects the dots.
Jongin’s next session is moved to only two days after Kyungsoo’s visit to their condo. And when he comes in, he looks sick with the lack of sleep, probably avoiding it like the plague since his nightmare and psychosis incident. And with knowing what Jongin most likely went through, Kyungsoo feels sick to his stomach as Jongin stretches and the pattern of his ribs show through his shirt easily.
He goes through the usual questions of how Jongin feels and what he did the last two days, and then Kyungsoo starts to go into the heavy stuff.
“Do you remember anything from the other night?” he questions, adjusting his specs and flipping the page over on his clipboard.
“Junmyeon-hyung told me what happened,” Jongin admits quietly, staring at his lap. “All I remember is the dream I had.”
“Can you tell me about the dream?” Kyungsoo asks, only to be replied with a shake of Jongin’s head. He wants to sigh but knows he has to get more direct and be honest with Jongin. He can’t beat around the bush anymore.
“Jongin, tell me about Taeoh’s mother,” he says, toying with the pen in his hand.
He notes the way Jongin tenses up and continues to avoid looking in Kyungsoo’s direction. “I don’t want to talk about her,” the younger practically growls, saying the last word like it’s a curse. It only proves what Kyungsoo believes to be what happened, and the psychiatrist exhales softly.
Kyungsoo takes off his glasses, placing his clipboard and pen to the side and hooking his specs in the collar of his black sweater vest. It’s a display, to show that he will get on a personal level if it means helping Jongin tell him the truth.
“You can tell me anything. I won’t write it down, even after you leave. This, right now, will stay between just you and me, Jongin,” Kyungsoo speaks truthfully. He wants to stay true to his word, not that anyone sees his documentations unless they switch to another psychiatrist.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jongin says bitterly, fists curled up on the couch on either side of his legs. “You won’t believe me. No one does, and no one ever will.”
“I have no reason to think you’re lying to me,” Kyungsoo raises his brows. “You have yet to lie to me this whole time.”
Jongin clenches his eyes shut and hangs his head, expression twisting as his hands shake at his sides. He doesn’t want to say it, scared of what Kyungsoo will think, what he’ll see. He’ll call him a lazy coward like his parents, some stupid boy just trying to hide behind an excuse so he won’t have to raise his child-an idiot who mixed with the wrong crowd and wants to cover his tracks.
Kyungsoo, knowing Jongin needs a push, speaks again.
“Did she hurt you, Jongin?” he chooses his words carefully.
There’s a shaky inhale, and Jongin’s lips quiver as he starts to formulate words. “I-I was just being stupid. When I went to university, I rarely went to parties but my friend, Sehun, did. And o-one night, to celebrate the end of the semester, he invited me to one. There were drinks and drugs, and Sehun left me alone. So I started-started to talk to this girl. We got drinks and she s-seemed nice. I-I don’t know what happened, I swear, bu-but I got really dizzy and the next thing I remember she was pressing me down onto-onto the bed and I-I,” Jongin starts to hyperventilate, voice catching in his throat as sobs threaten to break free. “I-I didn’t want it! I was a virgin-and it was scary. I told her to stop, but she wouldn’t. I was too out of it to move properly a-and when I tried to scream, sh-she choked me.”
“Jongin, Jongin, shh,” Kyungsoo soothes, moving over to sit next to the broken man but doesn’t touch him, “deep breaths, okay?”
“I’m stupid and a coward be-because I couldn’t stop it,” he cries, hunched over and wiping at his eyes. “A-And my body-it reacted anyways. So who-who would believe me now that I have Taeoh?”
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything because Jongin is right. No one would believe Jongin, especially since he’s a man. He knows the general consensus is that men can’t be raped. It’s a sad truth. And just knowing that Jongin has had to withstand that sort of ridicule is what saddens Kyungsoo. Societal barriers are shit.
“Can I hold your hand, Jongin?” he asks and is surprised as Jongin is quick to grab and squeeze Kyungsoo’s smaller hand tightly. With a gentle expression, Kyungsoo rubs his thumb over the back of the other man’s hand comfortingly as he continues to sob and hiccup.
“It’s okay, Jongin, let it all out,” Kyungsoo murmurs, “I believe you completely.”
Jongin glances up at him with watery, red-rimmed eyes, and Kyungsoo can see the small glimmer of hope that hides in his dark irises. The older man reaches over to the end table and snatches some tissues from the box sitting there, handing them to Jongin to wipe his tears.
"You...mean it?" he mumbles, dabbing at his eyes.
"Of course, it's...not exactly uncommon for men to be sexually assaulted, but many end up staying quiet like you," Kyungsoo explains. He even knows a group of male sexual assault survivors, who meet and talk about their struggles, but he doubts Jongin would feel comfortable there, as most of them were raped by other men.
"This...it's the reason why I turned to alcohol. Drinking made the nightmares go away and helped me forget," Jongin says somberly once his breathing pattern slowly returns to normal. "It didn't really get too bad until Taeoh was born. I felt guilty that--that because of this small thing, I couldn't take care of him."
"This isn't a small thing, Jongin,” Kyungsoo shakes his head, “especially with how it’s affected you. And none of this is your fault, okay? What happened and Taeoh being born--none of that is your fault. You can’t help how this traumatized you, and it was a good decision to ask your parents to take care of Taeoh. Don’t beat yourself over not being in his life either. He’s only a year old; you’ve hardly missed out on anything.”
Jongin doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods his head, a few more tears slipping out. He’s touched that Kyungsoo sounds so honest and kind, a first for him. He’s also the only one Jongin has told the complete incident to.
“Have you told your parents?” Kyungsoo asks, though he knows the answer is most likely yes, based on what Junmyeon said to him.
“I-I did when I found out she was having my child. They...they didn’t believe me and thought I was just trying to cover up h-having sex with a criminal,” Jongin wipes his eyes with the tissue, sniffling. “I wanted to tell the police right after it happened, but I knew they wouldn’t believe me."
They wouldn't have. Kyungsoo knows that for a fact.
"What about anyone else?" he questions.
"My sister, Hyojung-noona," Jongin's bony hand rests on his leg, the other still intertwined with Kyungsoo’s. The comfort of the psychiatrist’s hand has him continuing to speak. “She believed me-rather, she knew the second I called her that something was wrong. But she got busy with university, so it was Junmyeon-hyung who actually got me out of my apartment and took me to rehab. It helped me stop drinking, but I still can’t…”
“Every time I look at Taeoh, I see her. I hate it, and I can’t help it,” Jongin continues in a remorseful tone. “I know…I know it’s not his fault. He’s just a child, and I love him. I’ve only seen him a few times, and I love him. But I can’t take of him, not like this.”
Kyungsoo sits there in silence, brooding over the words he’s been waiting to hear. Knowing this, he can finally start some sort of treatment plan to help Jongin overcome this depression he’s trapped in. Furrowing his brows, he touches in chin in thought.
Jongin struggles with nightmares and insomnia, along with the possibility of another fit of psychosis looming over him. The psychosis and nightmares can be overcome by therapy, and Kyungsoo can help Jongin with his insomnia by suggesting sleeping pills. Jongin is also plagued by his parents’ disbelief of what happened to him and if he can somehow gain their support, he will be able to get closure.
He needs to learn that what happened isn’t his fault either and come to terms with the fact that she can’t get him anymore, and that Taeoh is his child. Though she gave birth to him, Taeoh will never be her child.
But first, “Jongin, I think you should talk to your parents about this. It will help you get some closure, I believe. And if you want, I can go with you.”
Jongin looks up at Kyungsoo like he’s crazy. “I-I can’t-“
“You can,” Kyungsoo corrects, reaching over to grasp Jongin’s other hand with the tissue still wadded in it. “If you want to improve and heal from this, you need to. I know it’s scary, but I won’t leave that goddamn house until they believe what happened to you. And the more you see Taeoh, the better being around him will get. Trust me.”
Jongin goes back to his hesitant, quiet self, lowering his eyes to look at their hands. He’s terrified, extremely so, Kyungsoo can tell, but the fact that he’s thinking about it means it isn’t a pointless suggestion.
“Okay,” he quietly murmurs a few moments afterwards, withdrawing his hands from Kyungsoo’s hold, “I’ll go to my parents’ house. You’ll-you’ll come too, right?” He’s quick to look up at the older man in hope.
“If you want me there,” Kyungsoo smiles.
( part 2 )
❊ title: pills n potions
❊ pairings: kai/d.o, chanyeol/baekhyun, mentioned!tao/kris
❊ rating: r
❊ warnings: drug abuse, alcoholism, depression, mentions of anxiety, single-father!jongin, mentions of rape
❊ word count: 10,821
❊ summary: Kyungsoo and Jongin are just a lonely psychiatrist and a broken patient, but things change.
❊ a/n: this was a challenge for me as i'm not familiar with angst, but i hope you enjoy! also i'm sorry if the ending is shitty i really had no clue how to conclude this :-))
Kyungsoo taps his pen against his bottom lip, eyes boring into the tired dark ones that stare back at him. Sunken eyes hidden in almond-shaped lids that seem soulless, like dirtied black pearls, don’t feel like they belong on this specific patient of his. Such a pretty face, really, only ruined by the man’s haggard appearance. Bronze skin paled from pitiful nourishment stretches over high cheekbones and a straight nose, accompanied with messy bleached hair-if he wasn’t so ill-looking, Kyungsoo figures he could be a model.
But dressed in a black sweater and tight-fitting sweatpants of the same color, he doubts he ever was a model.
He glances back down at the clipboard in his lap.
-Kim Jongin
-grew up in Seoul, lives with his older brother in Gangnam specifically
-23
-went to rehab for alcohol addiction, two months clean
Those are all the notes he has and all of them were told to him by Jongin’s older brother, Junmyeon. In fact, Jongin has hardly uttered a word in the forty-something minutes they’ve been in this therapy session. Kyungsoo asks questions, but all he replies with is no or I don’t want to talk about that. Kyungsoo’s even been met with complete silence as Jongin slumps further into the pristine leather sofa.
“How was your childhood?” Kyungsoo decides to ask. “Was it good? Did you get along with your family?”
Jongin just gives him that blank, tired stare before slowly moving to recline against the length of the couch like a classic shrink scene. The younger man kicks up his tattered shoes to rest his bare feet on the opposite arm rest. Kyungsoo reminds himself to get someone to disinfect that later.
Kyungsoo thinks Jongin isn’t going to bother answering him, but to his surprise he actually opens his mouth and speaks quietly, staring up at the white ceiling.
“It was fine. I grew up normally. I wasn’t some fucked up child, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jongin spits accusingly. “My parents are good people.”
His ballpoint pen glides across the paper smoothly and calmly, used to his patients thinking he was trying to point fingers. They are just standard questions he has to ask. Kyungsoo is a little happy that Jongin actually said something of worth, and he knows now that he doesn’t have to focus on that section of the younger man’s life.
Once his notes are perfected, Kyungsoo looks up. “I wasn’t thinking that, Jongin. I had to ask it since you don’t seem keen on telling me anything if you aren’t prompted to,” he admits with a sigh. “If we can get to what is pushing you into this depression, I can help you.”
Most patients are like Jongin though. Being stubborn and keeping it inside is a coping method, a common one. Not to mention, he knows it’s hard to trust him at first. Telling a stranger about your pain is never an option welcomed with open arms.
The only difference is what Junmyeon, Jongin’s brother, told Kyungsoo makes him worried. After Jongin finished rehab, Junmyeon thought he would be fine, but Jongin began to have terrible nightmares that had him thrashing and panicking whenever Junmyeon would wake him up and try to pacify him. An example of psychosis as it sounds, which is common in patients who went through trauma.
Kyungsoo is determined to find out what sort of trauma Jongin suffered, something that made him drown his soul in alcohol and lose his path in life.
But it will be a while before he can get to that stage of therapy, it seems.
“Do you have any hobbies, Jongin?” he asks, pushing his round glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
Jongin glances at the psychiatrist for a moment before redirecting his gaze to the ceiling again. “I don’t have any,” he mumbles. “I used to dance when I was in high school, jazz and ballet.” Obviously tired, he rubs at his eyes, shaking his head to get rid of the dizzy feeling.
Observing his mannerisms closely, Kyungsoo jots down Jongin’s blatant sleeping problems, as if the bags underneath his eyes aren’t enough proof. He has a feeling that it’s connected to his fit of psychosis, but they aren’t at the point where Kyungsoo can just ask about it.
“Did you want to become a dancer?”
Jongin doesn’t bother to answer that one, remaining still and silent on the couch. And after a minute of waiting, Kyungsoo sighs softly. Capping his pen, he sets it aside with his clipboard and takes off of his glasses. “We’re done for today. It was nice meeting you, Jongin. Remember to come to your next appointment, alright?”
He gets to his feet, moving from the couch to his desk and placing his pen and clipboard there. Turning around, he watches Jongin slip on his shoes and move towards the door.
Kyungsoo speaks up, and the other man pauses in the doorway. “Please be more open-minded. I know you don’t want to do this, but I’m here to help you.”
Jongin says nothing, just looks at the psychiatrist with those soulless, exhausted black eyes before disappearing out of his office. Kyungsoo hears his receptionist, Sooyoung, bid Jongin goodbye momentarily, and then the door shuts quietly. The small square of frosted glass on the door mocks him with its professionally printed black letters spelling Do Kyungsoo - Psychiatrist.
It saddens him that this is another one of those inflexible cases, but Jongin has every right to resist something so personal that his brother forced him in to. Kyungsoo has plenty of time to try and get him to open up. He’s been in this job for a few years now, being the young-old age of twenty-eight; he has to have some sort of knack for it.
Kyungsoo always knew he wanted to go into mental health since an early age and with amazing grades to match, it was natural that he was able to go to university and get a psychology degree. He chose to specialize in mainly psychotherapy, which is the talking portion, and get his own office with the money left for him by his mother. Most patients don’t require a diagnosis or any sort of medication, only coming to sort things out in their lives or vent, but Kyungsoo has the ability to write prescriptions and such.
There are more serious cases like Jongin’s too.
He’s in the middle of cleaning his glasses, after placing the lone document of his and Jongin’s first meeting in a file, when Sooyoung knocks once on the door before entering.
“Mr. Huang and Mr. Wu are here,” the young woman chirps with a smile.
Kyungsoo sighs. He hates doing couples’ therapy, and Zitao and Yifan are in and out every week it seems. Sometimes they’re sending glares and saying everything is falling apart, or they’re holding hands and sending loving glances. They refuse to break up, however.
“Send them in,” Kyungsoo replies, grabbing his handy clipboard once more and putting his glasses back on.
Sooyoung nods and leans out to call the couple in. Kyungsoo instantly hears their ceaseless arguing and decides it’s going to be one of those meetings.
As the weeks pass, Kyungsoo continues to have his sessions with Jongin every Wednesday. Four more meetings come and go, and so far he’s made zero progress in getting Jongin to talk about anything serious. He learns that Jongin’s parents own a bakery, that he has an older sister named Hyojung, and that Jongin worked at a convenience store when he was still in college and lived alone. Apparently, his interest in dance brought him to wanting to major in that field at a local arts university.
Yet, he doesn’t elaborate on what caused his life to fall apart and become flooded in alcohol.
Kyungsoo mulls over the details as he sits at his desk, his last session of the day already over. He regularly stays a little late to gather his thoughts with each patient, and after meeting Jongin earlier this morning, he can’t help his thoughts becoming steered towards the tired man.
Looking at his notes, nothing can give him any answers as to what trauma the younger male went through. So far, all he can figure is that Jongin definitely has insomnia with how he seems to get more tired with each visit. There haven’t been any more fits of psychosis as far as he knows, but Kyungsoo wants to prevent that as it can sometimes lead to suicide and other dangerous activities.
He sighs and places the few papers into Jongin’s file, leaning down to put it in the drawer of his desk. In the midst of filing it correctly, the door to his office opens and Kyungsoo cranes his head up from his hunched over position to see Baekhyun, a close friend of his since college.
“Hey, Kyungsoo, you done yet?” the older man asks, plopping himself down on one of the leather sofas like he owns the place.
“Why are you here?” Kyungsoo furrows his brows, though he should be used to Baekhyun arriving unexpectedly. “Shouldn’t you be bothering Chanyeol or something?”
“No, I just wanted to know if you wanted to go grab some dinner-with Chanyeol, of course,” he clarifies with a wink.
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, remembering the days he shared a flat with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, the two lovebirds constantly getting on his nerves. He’s glad he lives on his own now, but they still come around to nag and bug him to go out and do things. His life mainly exists between work and sleep these days anyways.
“I can go. Just let me finish up some things,” he answers, bending back down to file his notes for Jongin and his other patients. Baekhyun talks to him incessantly as he works to put things away and do last minute checks, asking about this and that. It grows quiet as Kyungsoo replies to an email from an old intern, asking for the number of another psychiatrist. Grumbling, he picks up and unzips his bag to pull out his cell phone, searching for his contacts.
“Hey, Kyungsoo, you aren’t…are you still taking those pills?”
He freezes, blood turning to ice and heart jumping in surprise. Kyungsoo promptly recovers though, trying to calm his heart as the anxiety burns his throat. Turning back to his computer, he types up a quick reply to the email and replies shortly, “No, I’m not.” It’s a bad lie, and he knows it.
There’s an exhale, and then Baekhyun stands up, keys jingling as he pulls them from his pocket. “Just…be careful, okay? You promised you would stop. I don’t want to send you to rehab.”
Kyungsoo shoots him a glare, ignoring how his hands sweat and shake as he turns off the desktop computer. “I know,” he says softly, getting up and taking his things, following Baekhyun out the door of his office and turning off the lights.
A cold sweat gathers at the nape of his neck and jitters run down his spine.
He can hear the rattling of the pills in their small orange bottle, packed tight in his bag, echoing with each step.
“I’m trying.”
Kyungsoo gets home late, being held up in the restaurant as Chanyeol went on and on about his work as a pastry chef. His job keeps him busy, so it’s not often they see each other, unlike Kyungsoo and Baekhyun.
He throws his bag in the corner to forget about it, controlling his breathing now that he’s alone. His hands shake as he makes his way to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes and jumping immediately into a cold shower.
Once he can breathe normally, Kyungsoo turns the water temperature to something mild and normal and takes a real shower.
Taking those anti-anxiety pills wasn’t supposed to become like this.
He’s exhausted by the time he gets out of the bathroom, dressed in some boxers and a t-shirt. He towel-dries his hair and takes a seat on his bed, admiring his small and quaint apartment. It’s actually bland and decorated sparsely, considering he’s quite the boring person. There aren’t many personal touches apart from a few pictures and things he picked out himself.
Kyungsoo is brushing his short hair in front of the mirror when his phone rings from the confines of his bag. Thinking it could be urgent, he strides over quickly and fishes it out, recognizing the number as Kim Junmyeon, Jongin’s brother. He panics, thinking something might have happened to Jongin, only to remember Junmyeon usually checks up after each meeting.
“Hello?” he answers the call, placing his brush onto the nightstand and sitting on the bed again.
“Sorry for the late call,” Junmyeon chuckles nervously, “I’ve been busy arguing with my editor all night.” Being a famous author, it doesn’t seem odd that he’d be busy.
“It’s fine. I’m guessing you called to ask how Jongin’s session went today?”
“Yes-Jongin, try and go to sleep already. It’s nearly one AM,” there’s a pause and Kyungsoo can hear muffled voices before Junmyeon’s sighing into the receiver. “I’m sorry I’m being nosy, but I’m worried about him. He doesn’t seem to be getting any better. I stay home all day because I’m afraid he’ll relapse if I’m gone. Has he told you anything?”
Kyungsoo shifts to lie down. “It takes some time for things to happen, but I will admit that Jongin’s progress is slow. He tells me things, but it’s never something relating to what might have pushed him to alcoholism, Mr. Kim.”
“Just Junmyeon is fine, and I understand. Um, has Jongin told you about his family-like all of it?” the other man seems hesitant.
“Yes, I believe so,” Kyungsoo knits his brows together in confusion. “Do you have a reason to think your family is related to his depression?”
Junmyeon is silent, and the psychiatrist begins to think he’s hung up or something before he speaks again. “Jongin has a son, Dr. Do, and the mother-the mother of his son is in prison for drug distribution and trafficking. I don’t know much about what happened since I was in America during that period of Jongin’s life, but if he’s withheld that information from you then it must be important.”
Kyungsoo brain blanks out, completely caught off guard with the new information. He can’t believe Jongin didn’t let anything related to something that big slip. Junmyeon is entirely right. Clearing his throat, he blinks to disperse the mild shock. “Thank you for telling me that, Junmyeon. I’ll try and bring up the topic with him at the next meeting.”
“You’re welcome, thank you for trying your best to help Jongin. I know he’s stubborn.”
“I’m just doing my job. Goodnight, Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo listens to Junmyeon’s reply before ending the call. He stares at the ceiling, trying to process and fit together the pieces of the puzzle. If Jongin had a son with a drug addict, then it would make sense that it was a painful subject, but he can’t help but think it can’t be just that. Is it just from the guilt of his son having a bad mother? It can’t be. There’s something else, something Junmyeon doesn’t know.
He’s unable to sleep that night, thoughts spinning around the possibilities.
“Dr. Do, Mr. Kim Jongin is here to see you,” Sooyoung notifies with her head poking in the door as usual.
“Send him in,” Kyungsoo murmurs, taking a seat on one of the two couches that face each other. With his clipboard in his lap and pen in hand, he watches Jongin walk in a moment later.
Dressed in the usual sweatpants fashion, the younger man sits down across from his psychiatrist. His hair is messy and there’s a 5 o’clock shadow on his jaw. Purple shadows below his eyes suggest Jongin still hasn’t gotten a sufficient amount of sleep. He doesn’t look at Kyungsoo, gaze focusing on his feet as he slumps against the padded back of the couch.
“How are you feeling today, Jongin? Have you gotten any sleep lately?” Kyungsoo starts out by asking even if the obvious answer to the latter question is no.
“I’m tired,” he answers simply, rubbing at his nose. “I tried sleeping, but I-I can’t. I’m scared.”
His eyebrows rising at the new information, Kyungsoo jots down that he can’t sleep due to fear. Fear of what?
“Why are you scared? Do you get nightmares?” he questions, wide eyes meeting Jongin’s tired ones from behind his specs.
“Yes,” Jongin says before pressing his dry lips together in a gesture that he doesn’t want to admit any more than that.
Kyungsoo may be curious, but he isn’t cruel and doesn’t like to pry in areas that Jongin isn’t comfortable speaking about. He writes down that Jongin has nightmares and makes a little note to suggest giving him sleeping pills. It’s a thought for later when he’s sure Jongin won’t misuse them if he prescribes the medication.
Yet, he has to speed up the process somehow, so he parts his lips and asks about a sensitive subject recently brought to light.
“Jongin, you have a son, right? How come you never talk about him?” the psychiatrist asks gently in a soft tone, looking the younger straight in the eye and watching as Jongin suddenly stiffens in surprise.
Emotion shows in his black eyes for once, and Jongin’s back straightens as he shifts back to press closer to the sofa like he wants to run away and avoid the conversation. “How did you k-know?” Jongin’s words sound strained.
“Junmyeon told me,” Kyungsoo explains honestly, “but he didn’t tell me any more than the fact that you have a son, Jongin. If this is something important in your life, we need to talk about it, okay?” He wants to reassure the other man that he didn’t go snooping around. The last thing he wants is to lose Jongin’s trust the moment he has it.
And he’s afraid he did as Jongin falls silent. Kyungsoo thinks he’ll refuse to speak like their first few sessions. Thankfully, it isn’t the case as Jongin’s posture relaxes a bit and he reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. Kyungsoo opens his mouth to ask what he’s doing, but he’s interrupted as seconds later his patient turns his phone around stretches his arm out to show Kyungsoo a picture.
It’s a baby, a little younger than twelve months it seems, smiling a gummy smile and wearing a cute onesie designed to look like a brown bear, hood pulled up over his head. Kyungsoo smiles at the adorable sight, definitely seeing the resemblance between Jongin and his son.
“He’s cute,” Kyungsoo coos as Jongin pulls the phone away, “he looks just like you, Jongin. What’s his name?”
There’s a small twitch at the corner of Jongin’s lips, like he wants to smile but can’t. Bringing the phone to his lap, he looks at the picture of his baby with a certain fondness Kyungsoo’s never seen in his eyes. It’s obvious that this isn’t a case of Jongin not mentioning his child because he doesn’t like him.
“His name is Taeoh. I…I named him that,” he murmurs, hesitant. He cradles the phone in his hand like a treasure, and Kyungsoo can hear the love in his voice. “He’s nine months old.”
The psychiatrist hums, writing it down. “It’s a good name. Does Taeoh live with you and Junmyeon?”
A crestfallen expression claims Jongin’s visage as he slowly shakes his head. “He’s…lived with my parents since he was born. I haven’t really been around him since. Mom sends me pictures and asks me to come over, but I never do.”
“Why not, why doesn’t he live with you?” Kyungsoo inquires. It’s not accusing, just plain curiosity. It could have something to do with Jongin’s mental state, but Jongin would tell him if it did.
Jongin doesn’t answer his question and instead says, “I want to be more involved with his life but-I can’t. It’s hard. The guilt hurts, and it’s part of the reason why drinking helped. It helped me cope.” His voice becomes thickened with emotion, but there are no tears.
This is the first time he’s actually mentioned something that contributed to his depression, so Kyungsoo swiftly records it on paper. He wants to ask more, especially relating to the topic of Taeoh’s mother, but it’s obvious Jongin is trying to avoid it. So he considers the mentioning of Taeoh a victory of its own, and instead asks to see more pictures. Kyungsoo finds joy in watching a little bit of life spark in Jongin’s eyes.
Kyungsoo draws in a shuddering breath, the room spinning around him as he lies limp on the mattress. The darkness is calming to his eyes as they focus on and off constantly. He’s so tired, eyelids feeling heavy, but it feels so nice. A crooked smile decorates his mouth as he turns his head to the side, rubbing his cheek against the soft material of his sheets as a croaked laugh leaves his dry throat.
His heart thumps in his chest to a slow, uneven tempo, pulse jumping every so often. The high is relaxing and thrilling all at once. Breathing heavily, he closes his eyes at the feeling of a hand running through his hair.
“It’s okay, my sweet boy. Mother is here; no one can hurt you,” a soft, familiar voice whispers to him. Kyungsoo hums in reply, opening his hazy eyes to the sight of his mother sitting on the edge of the bed, looking just as radiant as she did five years ago.
He grins lazily at her blurred silhouette, drool dribbling down the corner of his lips. “I…love you, Mom,” he croons, reaching out to touch her arm, feeling the soft cotton of her shirt. “Don’t…don’t leave, okay?”
“The world is scary, Kyungsoo,” his mother whispers, the words echoing in Kyungsoo’s head, “but you can face it on your own. I’ll always be here.”
Then why did you jump off that bridge melts on his tongue as his heavy-lidded eyes finally close.
Hunched over the desk in his office, Kyungsoo reads the diary left for him from his previous patient. Minseok is such an easygoing patient, always sharing his thoughts and asking what he should do to get over his social anxiety. He genuinely wants to get better at socializing and is glad to tell Kyungsoo the abuse he suffered from his controlling ex, what caused him to be scared to speak in the first place.
Only halfway through the small, leather-bound book, he glances at the time with a groan but goes back to reading. It’s getting late, Sooyoung long gone and most shops closing up. He needs to finish this before his session with Minseok tomorrow, not to mention analyze and not skim through it.
His cellphone suddenly starts to ring, causing Kyungsoo to jump out of his intense reading. Placing a hand on his heart, he shakes off the shock and picks up his phone.
It’s Junmyeon.
Kyungsoo blinks. Junmyeon already checked up on Jongin’s session from two days ago, so why would he be calling now, and this late of all times?
Panicked, he immediately answers, “Hello?”
His ears are instantly assaulted with the sounds of struggle and screaming. “Dr. Do?! Dr. Do, please, come help. Jongin-he was having a nightmare, so I woke him up, and now he’s in a panic. I’m trying to hold him down and calm him, b-but he doesn’t recognize me!” Junmyeon’s breathless voice shouts into the receiver.
Kyungsoo gets up right away, taking out his keys and unlocking one of the drawers of his desk. Yanking it open, he finds a single, small black bag. Inside, he knows there are several syringes and doses of mild tranquilizer, ones he’s certified to use for situations like these.
“I’m heading over right now, Junmyeon. Try to relax him however you can and keep calm,” Kyungsoo hangs up and grabs the rest of his things along with the black bag as fast as he can.
He knows Jongin is having another fit of psychosis, but this is the first one since he’s been visiting Kyungsoo’s office. If these fits of paranoia are triggered by nightmares, it only worsens his worry. It will make it harder for Jongin to sleep, weakening his state of mind and physicality. He has to get to the bottom of what happened to Jongin soon.
Arriving at Junmyeon’s condo, Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to relish in the fancy décor as he hears the screaming and sobbing from the front door, thankfully unlocked as Junmyeon has his hands full. He kicks off his shoes and runs through the lavish place to the source of the noise. Moving to the last room in the hallway, he finds Junmyeon pinning a struggling Jongin down onto the bed, who seems to be fighting well.
“Jongin, Jongin!” Kyungsoo hurries over, dropping his things, grabbing his loose wrist that slipped out of his older brother’s hands and pressing it down to the bed. He uses his other hand to grab Jongin’s jaw, trying to look into his wide, tear-filled eyes. “Jongin, can you hear me? Do you recognize me?”
“Don’t touch me! Stop!” the young man sobs fearfully, zero recognition in his expression as he thrashes. “D-Don’t look at me, please!” He chokes and kicks his legs, causing Junmyeon to wince.
"I-It hurts, please don't," Jongin shudders and cries, heavy tears rolling down his bronze cheeks.
Kyungsoo falters at bit at those statements, a bad feeling stirring in his gut. He tries to talk to Jongin again, but it only proves to scare him more. It leaves him with no choice.
Rolling up Jongin’s sleeve and keeping his wrist pinned to the bed by pressing his knee on it, Kyungsoo bends down the floor and manages to grasp the black bag. Unzipping it, he pulls out one of the syringes and fixing it with a sterile needle and filling it with the right amount of tranquilizer liquid.
“Junmyeon, hold him down as best as you can. I’m going to inject him with this. It’ll help him calm down and sleep,” Kyungsoo informs calmly. The older man swallows and nods, using his entire body to keep Jongin as still as possible, even though he hates to hear Jongin cry and plead to be let go from whatever he’s seeing.
Kyungsoo somehow manages to keep Jongin's arm still enough to inject him expertly. Slowly, the medication does its work in his bloodstream, and Jongin passes out, limbs going limp and allowing the other two men rest.
"Is this what happened before?" Kyungsoo asks, now sitting in Junmyeon's kitchen and sipping green tea after the incident.
Junmyeon nods, expression somber. "I don't know what he dreams about, but it doesn't seem good. He's been getting nightmares like this since he came back from rehab."
"It's called psychosis. It's common with a lot of mental illness patients," Kyungsoo explains. "Jongin just needs to keep going to therapy, though I can't tell you it won't happen again. I think it's a traumatic experience that's haunting Jongin."
Jongin's brother bites his lip, and Kyungsoo knows there's something he's hesitant to mention. “There’s just something I’ve been thinking of…”
"Junmyeon, tell me. I can't afford to wait on Jongin anymore. He's killing himself with this," the psychiatrist murmurs sincerely, pale hands wrapped around the warm mug of tea.
“Well,” Junmyeon starts off, withdrawing his hands to his lap, “as I said before, I wasn’t around for two years because I was living in America. So I didn’t know about Taeoh or what Jongin was going through until I came back a few months ago. And when I did, I heard my parents talking about how Jongin had thrown the responsibility of Taeoh onto them because ‘he said he didn’t want it,’” Junmyeon’s eyes begin to water and his hands tighten to fists in his lap. He looks up at Kyungsoo, his gaze conveying what his mouth couldn’t form in words.
“He said it. I don’t think he meant Taeoh.”
Kyungsoo freezes, his mug halfway to his lips.
He connects the dots.
Jongin’s next session is moved to only two days after Kyungsoo’s visit to their condo. And when he comes in, he looks sick with the lack of sleep, probably avoiding it like the plague since his nightmare and psychosis incident. And with knowing what Jongin most likely went through, Kyungsoo feels sick to his stomach as Jongin stretches and the pattern of his ribs show through his shirt easily.
He goes through the usual questions of how Jongin feels and what he did the last two days, and then Kyungsoo starts to go into the heavy stuff.
“Do you remember anything from the other night?” he questions, adjusting his specs and flipping the page over on his clipboard.
“Junmyeon-hyung told me what happened,” Jongin admits quietly, staring at his lap. “All I remember is the dream I had.”
“Can you tell me about the dream?” Kyungsoo asks, only to be replied with a shake of Jongin’s head. He wants to sigh but knows he has to get more direct and be honest with Jongin. He can’t beat around the bush anymore.
“Jongin, tell me about Taeoh’s mother,” he says, toying with the pen in his hand.
He notes the way Jongin tenses up and continues to avoid looking in Kyungsoo’s direction. “I don’t want to talk about her,” the younger practically growls, saying the last word like it’s a curse. It only proves what Kyungsoo believes to be what happened, and the psychiatrist exhales softly.
Kyungsoo takes off his glasses, placing his clipboard and pen to the side and hooking his specs in the collar of his black sweater vest. It’s a display, to show that he will get on a personal level if it means helping Jongin tell him the truth.
“You can tell me anything. I won’t write it down, even after you leave. This, right now, will stay between just you and me, Jongin,” Kyungsoo speaks truthfully. He wants to stay true to his word, not that anyone sees his documentations unless they switch to another psychiatrist.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jongin says bitterly, fists curled up on the couch on either side of his legs. “You won’t believe me. No one does, and no one ever will.”
“I have no reason to think you’re lying to me,” Kyungsoo raises his brows. “You have yet to lie to me this whole time.”
Jongin clenches his eyes shut and hangs his head, expression twisting as his hands shake at his sides. He doesn’t want to say it, scared of what Kyungsoo will think, what he’ll see. He’ll call him a lazy coward like his parents, some stupid boy just trying to hide behind an excuse so he won’t have to raise his child-an idiot who mixed with the wrong crowd and wants to cover his tracks.
Kyungsoo, knowing Jongin needs a push, speaks again.
“Did she hurt you, Jongin?” he chooses his words carefully.
There’s a shaky inhale, and Jongin’s lips quiver as he starts to formulate words. “I-I was just being stupid. When I went to university, I rarely went to parties but my friend, Sehun, did. And o-one night, to celebrate the end of the semester, he invited me to one. There were drinks and drugs, and Sehun left me alone. So I started-started to talk to this girl. We got drinks and she s-seemed nice. I-I don’t know what happened, I swear, bu-but I got really dizzy and the next thing I remember she was pressing me down onto-onto the bed and I-I,” Jongin starts to hyperventilate, voice catching in his throat as sobs threaten to break free. “I-I didn’t want it! I was a virgin-and it was scary. I told her to stop, but she wouldn’t. I was too out of it to move properly a-and when I tried to scream, sh-she choked me.”
“Jongin, Jongin, shh,” Kyungsoo soothes, moving over to sit next to the broken man but doesn’t touch him, “deep breaths, okay?”
“I’m stupid and a coward be-because I couldn’t stop it,” he cries, hunched over and wiping at his eyes. “A-And my body-it reacted anyways. So who-who would believe me now that I have Taeoh?”
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything because Jongin is right. No one would believe Jongin, especially since he’s a man. He knows the general consensus is that men can’t be raped. It’s a sad truth. And just knowing that Jongin has had to withstand that sort of ridicule is what saddens Kyungsoo. Societal barriers are shit.
“Can I hold your hand, Jongin?” he asks and is surprised as Jongin is quick to grab and squeeze Kyungsoo’s smaller hand tightly. With a gentle expression, Kyungsoo rubs his thumb over the back of the other man’s hand comfortingly as he continues to sob and hiccup.
“It’s okay, Jongin, let it all out,” Kyungsoo murmurs, “I believe you completely.”
Jongin glances up at him with watery, red-rimmed eyes, and Kyungsoo can see the small glimmer of hope that hides in his dark irises. The older man reaches over to the end table and snatches some tissues from the box sitting there, handing them to Jongin to wipe his tears.
"You...mean it?" he mumbles, dabbing at his eyes.
"Of course, it's...not exactly uncommon for men to be sexually assaulted, but many end up staying quiet like you," Kyungsoo explains. He even knows a group of male sexual assault survivors, who meet and talk about their struggles, but he doubts Jongin would feel comfortable there, as most of them were raped by other men.
"This...it's the reason why I turned to alcohol. Drinking made the nightmares go away and helped me forget," Jongin says somberly once his breathing pattern slowly returns to normal. "It didn't really get too bad until Taeoh was born. I felt guilty that--that because of this small thing, I couldn't take care of him."
"This isn't a small thing, Jongin,” Kyungsoo shakes his head, “especially with how it’s affected you. And none of this is your fault, okay? What happened and Taeoh being born--none of that is your fault. You can’t help how this traumatized you, and it was a good decision to ask your parents to take care of Taeoh. Don’t beat yourself over not being in his life either. He’s only a year old; you’ve hardly missed out on anything.”
Jongin doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods his head, a few more tears slipping out. He’s touched that Kyungsoo sounds so honest and kind, a first for him. He’s also the only one Jongin has told the complete incident to.
“Have you told your parents?” Kyungsoo asks, though he knows the answer is most likely yes, based on what Junmyeon said to him.
“I-I did when I found out she was having my child. They...they didn’t believe me and thought I was just trying to cover up h-having sex with a criminal,” Jongin wipes his eyes with the tissue, sniffling. “I wanted to tell the police right after it happened, but I knew they wouldn’t believe me."
They wouldn't have. Kyungsoo knows that for a fact.
"What about anyone else?" he questions.
"My sister, Hyojung-noona," Jongin's bony hand rests on his leg, the other still intertwined with Kyungsoo’s. The comfort of the psychiatrist’s hand has him continuing to speak. “She believed me-rather, she knew the second I called her that something was wrong. But she got busy with university, so it was Junmyeon-hyung who actually got me out of my apartment and took me to rehab. It helped me stop drinking, but I still can’t…”
“Every time I look at Taeoh, I see her. I hate it, and I can’t help it,” Jongin continues in a remorseful tone. “I know…I know it’s not his fault. He’s just a child, and I love him. I’ve only seen him a few times, and I love him. But I can’t take of him, not like this.”
Kyungsoo sits there in silence, brooding over the words he’s been waiting to hear. Knowing this, he can finally start some sort of treatment plan to help Jongin overcome this depression he’s trapped in. Furrowing his brows, he touches in chin in thought.
Jongin struggles with nightmares and insomnia, along with the possibility of another fit of psychosis looming over him. The psychosis and nightmares can be overcome by therapy, and Kyungsoo can help Jongin with his insomnia by suggesting sleeping pills. Jongin is also plagued by his parents’ disbelief of what happened to him and if he can somehow gain their support, he will be able to get closure.
He needs to learn that what happened isn’t his fault either and come to terms with the fact that she can’t get him anymore, and that Taeoh is his child. Though she gave birth to him, Taeoh will never be her child.
But first, “Jongin, I think you should talk to your parents about this. It will help you get some closure, I believe. And if you want, I can go with you.”
Jongin looks up at Kyungsoo like he’s crazy. “I-I can’t-“
“You can,” Kyungsoo corrects, reaching over to grasp Jongin’s other hand with the tissue still wadded in it. “If you want to improve and heal from this, you need to. I know it’s scary, but I won’t leave that goddamn house until they believe what happened to you. And the more you see Taeoh, the better being around him will get. Trust me.”
Jongin goes back to his hesitant, quiet self, lowering his eyes to look at their hands. He’s terrified, extremely so, Kyungsoo can tell, but the fact that he’s thinking about it means it isn’t a pointless suggestion.
“Okay,” he quietly murmurs a few moments afterwards, withdrawing his hands from Kyungsoo’s hold, “I’ll go to my parents’ house. You’ll-you’ll come too, right?” He’s quick to look up at the older man in hope.
“If you want me there,” Kyungsoo smiles.
( part 2 )