ch. 1

189 8 7

I hate therapy. I hate this. I hate the pills. I hate Tae. I hate that I'm here and he's not.

Hoseok stared at his journal for another minute before turning the papers in his hand and finally closing it. He knew that Noah would be disappointed in him but at that point, he could hardly care. It wasn't like he could even check the journal to make sure that the boy was writing every day, though it was 'recommended'.

"Hoseok," Noah said then, entering the room with two simple knocks on the wooden door, "I'm sorry for the slight delay. Traffic."

The boy shrugged in response, not even looking up from his journal. He'd seen the room in detail enough to already feel sick of it. It's grey walls, grey carpet, and grey curtains. Then there was Noah's stupid, huge desk that took up half the room.

"Anyway, I hope that you've come back with new thoughts on what we talked about last session." Noah paced across the room with his annoying black squeaky shoes until he finally made his way across his ocean-sized desk to his chair.

"Not really." Hoseok answered truthfully.

He didn't have to look up to picture Noah's disappointment. He was always so disappointed in Hoseok.

"That's okay." Noah smiled, despite the fact  the boy wasn't even looking at him, "We have all of today's session to come up with them."

"Listen, Noah," Hoseok began, finally looking up from the journal in his hands.

"-Dr. Thatcher."

"Right." Prick. "I really don't think this is necessary. If it were up to me,  I wouldn't think any of this is necessary. I'm not crazy. I'm not depressed. I haven't even cried for fuck's sake."

"First of all, Hoseok, it isn't up to you. I'm sorry but your family is worried about you and so am I." Liar. "Three sessions aren't going to make it better. We aren't calling you crazy, either, but it is rather concerning that you haven't let yourself mourn over the loss of a loved one. We want you to know that it's okay to let yourself mourn."

"I have." Hoseok lied. "I just haven't cried and I don't see how that's a bad thing. Isn't it better? Isn't it better that I haven't bothered my parents in any way, shape, or form?"

Noah's smile hardened and Hoseok would've laughed at his frustration if he wasn't so pissed off at the moment.

Therapy started out fine. The first session was like what you see in movies. How are you feeling? How does that make you feel? Do you think that blah is the cause for blah? He could deal with that. It only started annoying him when Noah's questions began to pry too deep. He'd ask questions about Tae that he didn't have the right to know about. No one did. To get out as soon as possible, Hoseok did his best to act normal for his parents, like nothing happened. Shouldn't that have had them drop their concern? Nope. It only made it worse because they thought their son was turning into a fucking robot.

I just want to know why he doesn't think he can cry. I don't want him bottling up these emotions, Dr.

He remembered his mother talking to Noah in the hallway before his first session, oblivious to the fact that he could hear her through the thin walls.

Please, help him. Help my son.

"Hoseok," Noah's smile vanished as he turned his attention towards a drawer in his massive desk before opening the slot and removing a notepad. "Let's talk about your medication. Have you been taking it?"

"Yes." He lied.

"And how do you feel they are working?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" Hoseok scoffed, "Hell, I don't even know what they're for."

are we having fun yet? ☹hoseok☹Where stories live. Discover now