August rain | myg ✔

o n e

The silence was too much for him to bear. 

It was so silent in this waiting room, he could hear the cars on the street down below. He hated this silence. He needed to hear something, anything, so he wouldn't have to be alone with his thoughts anymore. But the waiting room was empty of people and things. He was alone and there wasn't even a magazine to divert his attention. No, he couldn't escape the fact that he was alone, all alone with a silence that was too overwhelming. 

The only thing he could focus on not to turn completely insane was the painting in front of him. It was one of a sea, a grey sea that seemed troubled and capricious. Its frame was old and worn out, but it complemented the painting well. It all gave a feel of perpetual fatigue and turmoils. In a way, this painting was exactly like him.

The door to the waiting room opened and a head popped in the doorway.

"Min Yoongi? The doctor will see you now." The secretary said politely before motioning for him to follow her.

He stood up slowly, looking down at the brown carpet as he made his way to the door and into the doctor's office across the hall. 

His new doctor was a woman who seemed to be around fifty years old. She was small and bulky and had glasses that covered half of her face. 

"Yoongi?" She smiled softly. "Nice to meet you, I'm Dr Surrey." Her voice was neither strong or hesitant, it was just the right tone to make him feel like he wasn't in the wrong place. 

In a way, he was in the wrong place, and he didn't want to be here, but it wasn't like he had a choice. He was here, or he would be six feet underground. So he was here, for now. In the wrong place, because the right place didn't exist anymore.

Nodding as he sat down, he slowly looked away from the doctor, at the things that were lined up on the desk; a picture frame, a pencil case, a couple of sheets, a paperclip, and in the center of it all, a bright red file that was marked Min Yoongi.

He diverted his gaze, looking down at his hands, nervously playing with them. He could feel the doctor's gaze on him, but he didn't want to look up, because he felt awkward. This was his first time seeing a doctor for something that wasn't really a sickness. Or maybe it was, he didn't really know. All he knew is that he wasn't okay, and he knew he would never be, ever again. 

"This is your first time seeing a psychiatrist, I think?" The doctor went on, her face not showing anything other than warmness, but he didn't see it because he was still looking down.

He nodded again, although this nod was more difficult than the first one. Because this one was about admitting that he wasn't here for the usual sicknesses he had; rather, he was here for something inside of him that he couldn't control, something that had taken him over but that he didn't want.

It wasn't physical, it was all in his brain, and it hurt more than he had ever been hurt. He just wanted to make it stop, but he couldn't.  

"I see. Tell me, what brings you here?"

Shit. Of course the doctor would ask that question. The question to the answer he avoided as much as he possibly could.

He didn't want to say it. He didn't think he could, because saying it would make it real. The words that were stuck in his throat, he would leave them there if it didn't hurt that much to keep them inside. But releasing them meant admitting them, admitting that they were true, and he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to, but he knew he had to. 

"I..." He started, then froze. 

Shit. He closed his eyes slowly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. The lump of pain and words and hurt that had been there for what felt like forever. 

Eyes still closed, he took in a deep breath, knowing that the doctor was staring at him and waiting for him to say the thing that he didn't want to say. So he slowly opened his eyes and stared straight at Dr Surrey. Parting his lips, he gathered his last strengths and formed the words that hurt him so much. 

"I'm in love."