Blue {DoTae} | complete

Thirty-eight: The world is beautiful

Doyoung's mother keeps opening her mouth as though she's about to speak, only to close it every single time and glare harder at the road ahead. They're in the car, the tinny voice of the sat nav directing them to the location of the music video shooting, and Doyoung is restless. He wriggles around in the seat, no position comfortable enough to satisfy the itch of his insides for more than a minute, and the seatbelt digs into his neck the longer he shuffles. Taeyong has been texting him to reassure him that he'll do amazing, that it's casual and that his face won't appear in the final clip, but Doyoung continues to be beaten down by the possibilities of doing an awful job.

There's a part of him that feels inadequate. Unworthy. And it's quite a substantial part of him, too.

Taeyong is a professional who's been doing this for a few years now, while Doyoung is only going as a plus one and has no idea what he's doing.

He knows how much he means to Taeyong. He's seen with his own eyes how his presence comforts the idol and motivates him through the day so he should feel appreciated, he knows he should, yet it's hard to break away from the old way of thinking sometimes. They've explored his feelings of inadequacy in therapy but, all too often, dismissing them is easier said than done.

Did you reply to Taeyong? Are you sure? What if the message didn't send?

Doyoung opens and closes his messages far too many times to reassure himself, tapping his fingers with equal pressure in the same places on the screen, hating the way he's giving into his mind. He fears that if he finds out that he didn't reply, it'll become a bad omen and he'll mess up the entire shoot. He blinks every time a lamppost passes by the window and taps his feet in a continuous rhythm. His fidget toy is heavy in his pocket, the weight at least providing some comfort even if he's hesitant to play with it beside his mother.

"Are you sure you should be doing this? Your first exam is in two days. Do you not want to study?" His mother tops it all off by finally speaking. Doyoung's mind crackles with irritation, and the discomfort at her tone of voice will soon lead to him snapping if she doesn't back down.

"I'm sick of studying." Doyoung shrugs, then stares out the window with nonchalance.

"That's unlike you." Doyoung snorts at the woman's comment.

"No, I've just finally broken. I'm fed up of it, alright? I don't care about college. I hate it. I hate my classes. I hate exams. I just want to get them done and move on with life. I've wasted the last three years of my life." Doyoung releases a frustrated huff and scratches at the palms of his hands, then his fingers fly up to his hair when he remembers his hands will need to look perfect as they'll certainly appear in the video.

"Are you still pulling your hair, sweetie?" His mother continues. Doyoung yanks a strand out and twists it around his thumb so hard that the skin pulses red before the hair snaps, a brief ripple of relief spreading through his mind at the sensation. There's her answer.

He decides to ignore her question, although it is a little harder to ignore the tingle of his scalp that does its very best to entice him to pull more, to give into the craving and seek that millisecond of relief.

"So is it alright with Kun if you begin work full time at the café?" She asks a milder question this time. Doyoung settles on balling his hands into fists and leaning his head on the window. The rumble of the engine is louder that way, effectively blocking out his thoughts and the pit of anxiety in his stomach.

"Yeah. He's going to give me more kitchen training." Doyoung sneaks a glance at his mother and he doesn't miss the flicker of disappointment in her gaze. It's as though she's disappointed that he's not striving to aim high in life, or perhaps she thinks she's being let down. "I'll get some money from the album too, you know." He adds for a bit of damage control.