possible TWs: mental institute/PTSD descriptions

wooyoung san

12.08.17

the first tuesday of the summer holiday is not one san's been looking forward to. why? because it means it's time for him to pay his mother a visit.

when he told wooyoung he had not seen her since he was fifteen, it had not been a total lie. the thing is, san does see her, every three months or so. but the woman she is today... that isn't his mother. so it's easier not to mention the whole truth.

thinking about wooyoung will not do him much good. he'd asked to take the trial shift at that random café on an impulsive whim, desperate to busy himself. and then, like a cosmic joke, wooyoung had shown up. on a date, no less.

and san could have let it pass. he should have. but he couldn't help himself. everything is worse, now, because he couldn't keep his stupid hands to his idiotic self. especially because his heart betrays him, every second, when it flutters, thinking of wooyoung. how he doesn't hate him.

nothing like a trip to the psych word to put a damper on his mood. 

he always has to mentally prepare himself for these visits to the institution that's caring for her, and today is no different. san hates the building with a rigid passion; it reminds him of everything he doesn't have, not to mention the time he spent there.

pulling his jacket more tightly around himself and tugging down the sleeves, san takes a deep breath before going inside. once he's over and done with it, he won't have to come for another three months. the thought manages to somewhat comfort him.

the walls are still painted a dull gray colour, unchanged from every other time san has seen them. doors align the corridor, white and pristine with identical mesh squares near the top. the only thing differentiating each one from the other is the name scrawled upon each board adorning them. it's terribly lonely.

"i'm here to see patient seventy-eight." san speaks up when reaching the reception desk. "mrs. choi."

the woman behind the desk is young, perhaps working here for the summer. she seems to be a new member of staff, which san is grateful for; he won't be asked unwanted questions.

"are you family?" comes the clipped textbook reply, to which san rolls his eyes. apparently his mother's restrictions have been raised again.

"i'm her son." he confirms bitterly, taking the pen that's offered to him in order to fill in the visitor's log.

she smiles at him apologetically as he writes, undoubtedly as she does to everyone who finds themselves in this position. it only makes him dislike her, though; san doesn't want her sympathy. he doesn't want anyone's sympathy.

when he's done, he doesn't bother returning that practiced smile, restraining himself from making a sarcastic remark. the faster he does this, the better.

unsurprisingly, a nurse accompanies him to her room, although he knows the way well enough by now. the woman is one he has come to know, but not as well as he has some of the other staff here. san only hopes he will not run into them today.

"perhaps you can get her to talk today." the nurse suggests with a strained smile, knowing that is unlikely.

"we'll see." san mutters, way past positivity. it's better when she doesn't talk.

by now, the raven haired has desensitized himself from feeling anything when he sees her. the sight brands itself in his mind often enough for him to stop the despair that used to overwhelm him.

mrs. choi has become a caricature of herself. san cannot bring himself to say her name, because it doesn't belong to the woman in front of him. she sits delicately on the bed, unmoving, soulless eyes staring unblinkingly downward where they slowly become submerged deep into their sockets. her bones juts out where they should not, her cheeks sink in. she's the picture of negligence and malnutrition.

that body is a mere shell of who she once was, limp and barely living. her brain is an extinguished fire. once, it burnt bright. san knows that she knew of happiness and light; she could see a future... now her mind is dark, subsisting on the burnt tinder of who she was. in these ashes there is nothing to even renew a spark.

all she can do is huddle in each passing moment, living from heartbeat to heartbeat. san figures she feels like the world isn't really there at all, like it's been stolen and replaced with something empty. it makes sense in a weird way, he knows the real world used to give her feelings of joy. she must've felt connected to it, part of it. but either it was taken away or she was. every second of every minute of every day all she can do is float in the void.

so yes, the last time san has seen his mother is when he was fifteen.

"hi mom." he says quietly, despising the word on his tongue. it sounds odd and out of place.

"maybe you forgot, but it was my birthday recently." the nurse closes the door to give them some privacy, but san knows she's standing right outside. "i turned eighteen. the big one eight."

he laughs at the ridiculousness of what he's saying, but can't help but keep talking. "it sucks, mom. i wish you were here for me. and i'm angry at you, you know? because maybe things would be different if i was enough to keep you sane. maybe things would be different if i was enough."

while he rambles nonsensical things to keep himself from crying, something unexpected happens. mrs. choi's head shoots up suddenly as if she has just realised something, and her body begins to twitch in unsettling spasms.

"eighteen? eighteen?" she repeats, voice a dry rasp in her throat. "eighteen..."

san waits, too surprised to say anything. he feels the nausea rise as he just averts his gaze, unable to look at her as her eyes start to dart around in a crazy manor and she grabs hold of her hair.

"my baby girl should be eighteen soon! my girl..." the sobs rack her throat, and san winces. she's gone, mom! he wants to shout. i'm still here.

mrs. choi begins clawing at her left forearm, where his dad's name is, rocking back and forth and wailing. "he's gone too. gone!"

san steps away, struggling to hold himself together, but his mother grabs for him. her bony hands clasp his wrist, nails scratching at his skin.

"look at me! look!" she howls, and the nurse from earlier glances inside to check if there's a problem. "this is what love does to you! look!"

"you're hurting me," he manages painfully, tugging away. but she clutches at him.

suddenly, she stills, like someone has pressed pause. san wavers, realizing her fingers are tracing his braille tattoo. she resumes her shaking, tears beginning to spill over.

"eunseo, eunseo..." she wails, digging her nails in too much as she reads the numbers again and again.

san frees himself from her grasp, wanting to exit the room as fast as possible, his breathing accelerating.

"i miss her too, mom." he says, a little breathlessly, biting down on his tongue.

"my love, my love," she cries, less hysterically. head dropping in her hands, she holds herself there, shutting herself off from the rest of the world. "oh, my loves..."

his back hits the wall next to the doorway as the nurse enters with soothing words.

"it's time for your medicine, sweetie." she shushes, and san turns his head away from the entrance, exiting the room.

his palms are sweaty, so he wipes them on his jeans, clenching and unclenching his hands. tears finally fall from his eyes, whether from stress or sadness or both. nausea bestows him, too, and he leans over and holds his knees to try and calm down.

this is what love does to you. her words keep ringing in his head like a broken record, the truth of them rattling him to his core, because she's right.

his mother lost her soulmate - san's father - and look where she is now.

"sorry, honey." the nurse's voice snaps him out of his spiraling. "your mom's going to rest now."

he stands up straight again and nods, knees trembling beneath him. san can't stand staying here much longer, and may have been too enthusiastic about getting out, because just his luck, he catches the attention of the last person he'd been wanting to see.

"san!" the man greets warmly, walking up to him with a clipboard beneath his arm. circular glasses rest atop his nose, which he pushes up when reaching him.

san manages a weak smile, tensing as the man's kind eyes examine him.
dr. suh had been his sister's therapist before she died. and then his.

"visiting your mom?" he asks, as if there's another reason san should be here.

"unfortunately." he affirms, burying his previous feelings with a mask of indifference.

"i'm sure your visits help her, even if you don't think so." the doctor tells him, and san internally scoffs. she doesn't even love me.

"how are the nightmares?" he suddenly diverts the subject, as therapists are so expert at doing.

san presses his lips together, regretting having told him about those. but after his sister died, they had come every night, and became so unbearable that he had to tell someone or he would have gone as rabidly insane as his mother.

doctor suh had been helping him work through them and trying to uncover any underlying causes or trauma he may be unknowingly suppressing, but san had decided to stop seeing him before they could get very far.

kibum says therapy is expensive and worthless, and at the time san just agreed, because the word from the man who took you in as his own is law.

"they're fine." he lies with a shrug, subconsciously tugging the jacket sleeve of his left arm. his forearm feels like it's burning, the name beneath its covering dying to give him away.

"okay." doctor suh replies, probably not believing him for half a second. "perhaps you should think about giving me a call. just so we can make sure."

"i'm not crazy." san grits out, laughing at the circumstances of what he's saying while in a mental hospital. (which ironically makes him seem a little insane.)

"i never said you were." the older returns, puzzled. "i don't think you're anything of the sort. i would just hate for you to be dealing with something all on your own without even knowing what it is. i'd like to get to the bottom of it, wouldn't you?"

san shrugs stiffly, crossing his arms. "maybe. but you would have to swear to me that you won't force me to change the way i feel about soulmates."

doctor suh chuckles as if he knows something san doesn't, but gives his word nonetheless.

his mother's words echo in his ears as he leaves, and san's convinced that the way he feels will not change, no matter what his therapist thinks. he tries to push wooyoung out of his mind.

-

JOHNNY IS A THERAPIST NOW BC I SAID SO 😔✋✋

some of y'all were hating san too much recently so i had to DEFEND MY BOY. pls hopefully this explains his character more and why he does certain things :))

wellll stream knock knock by astro i guess

xxx

edit: san character expansion yippeeee