It Ends With a Text (Sequal to It Began With a Text)

Fixed

     Today, after so many weeks, Minho walked into the office with something to say.

     "I want today to be our last session," he told his therapist before he had even put both feet into the door."

     Minho's therapist was a lot like him. Wholly unamused. She dramatically turned towards him (in the spinning chair she never offered Minho,) tapping her fingers against her lap and staying silent until he closed the door behind him.

     "I figured this was coming. Especially with you barely opening your mouth these past few sessions."

     Minho grinned. "Cool, well it was nice knowing you--"

     "I don't believe I've dismissed you."

     Minho, unfortunately, had grown to respect his therapist. He obeyed. "So... when?"

     "After you do this one thing for me."

     "Spill it."

     His therapist rolled her eyes (Godamn it, Minho had really been seeing her for too long for her to have the right to do that.) "For the rest of this session, I want to see that mouth moving. No shrugging shoulders, no half-answers. Tell me why you feel you are done here."

     "Okay." Minho threw himself onto the couch. It was expensive and sunk his body into its skin. Maybe he prolonged these sessions just for this couch. "May I begin?"

     "Please do."

     Minho stared at the ceiling above him, a familiar dryness encompassing his mouth. He wasn't much of a talker. His thoughts felt more safe inside his mind. Maybe that was why he was here. "It's just--"

     The first few words forced themselves out and the rest came more easily.

     "I guess I came here, or my parents forced me to, because I was like... jaded. I was apparently shut out from the rest of the world."

     "But now that I think about it, I don't think I am. I don't think I ever was."

     His therapist's finger tapping shifted to her armrests. That incessant sound, it was how Minho knew she was listening. It was nails on a chalkboard and he had grown to find comfort in it.

     "You know I was homeschooled, right?" Of course she did. "So I grew up blissfully ignorant of the world. I was happy. Life was easy. I was kinda disappointed when I was sent to a regular school and the first year was pretty rough. But after that, I happened to meet my best friend.

     "And this is so corny, but once you've met good people, you're untouchable. I was untouchable. Sure, other kids sucked and I had my low points. But it was like... I always knew I just had bad luck. That I had just crossed paths with bad apples. My life was bleak but... the world didn't feel that way. I would tell Han I hated people, and before we reunited after the accident, I definitely crashed out and lashed out at everything around me."

     "But... that's not who I am. That was never who I am. As long as I had Han... I kinda knew that things could be alright. I knew people could be good. My world was always defined by the good people in my life. 

     "It's weird... it should feel suffocating stepping out into that world again. It should be hard to trust others. But, it's not. I'm able to breathe, I'm able to hope. I've always had that in me."

     Minho smiled at the ceiling he would never have to see again. "That was a long way of saying... I'm okay. I'm actually okay. I'm not traumatized, I'm not jaded. I'm always going to be okay."

     His therapist let out a sigh. There was a sermon on the tip of her tongue, he could tell-- one that would be unrelenting. "That's why it is so important to address what losing such a friend can do--"

     "He's okay."

     Minho was prepared.

     His therapist stopped tapping her fingers. "Come again?"

     "Han is okay." Minho finally sat up, looking his therapist in the eye.

     "And how--"

     "I just know these kinds of things." Minho chuckled. "Trust me."

     His therapist raised an eyebrow at him. But her eyes were glowing. Pride. "And are you okay with the terms you two left off in?"

     Minho's legs were sinking into the couch too much for comfort. He could see a dirty reflection on the marbled floor. He took a deep breath.

     "Han, wherever he is... I'm sure he forgives me. Just like I forgive him."

     His therapist-- she was smiling. It was a foreign sight and it felt like a gold medal. "Well then, with that, Lee Minho, this is our goodbye. I wish you good luck for the future."

     "Thanks, you too." Minho got onto his feet, slowly, stretching his arms as far as they would let him. "Thanks for these years, I guess."

     "Don't get too sentimental."

     Minho was ready to leave this office without turning back. If there was bittersweetness in his heart, it was overridden by a hunger he thought he had lost when his phone had gone silent and a group chat had become a graveyard.

     "Wait, Minho."

     Minho did turn back. "Yes?"

     "I feel like there is another reason you have put up with these sessions for so long."

     Minho's tongue felt loose. It was a good feeling. "I guess... I wanted to see how you would fix me. If you could. I didn't think you could really change people just by sitting in a chair and talking to them."

     "You don't change people, Minho. Or fix them. for that matter. You help them see what they're missing."

     Minho laughed, too loudly for this small space. "Yeah, all that fancy stuff. It's fascinating."

     His therapist lifted a brow, a knowing one. "I'm glad you think that. Remember, I'm always here when you need anything."

     Minho didn't respond to that. He smiled, knowing that all of his words were already in this room.

     I'm always here. He loved when people said that.

Seungmin and Minho's Private Chat:

Minho:

Seungmin have u ever considered therapy

Seungmin:

now why would i do that