So Han started going to a therapist, but it didn't go as hoped.
The first meetings were a disaster.
Han sat in that uncomfortable chair and couldn't open up. He didn't understand why he was there and, above all, he felt judged. He didn't trust that therapist, a man in his sixties with an austere look, which reminded him of his father's.
During the second meeting he tried to tell him about Eun, but the psychiatrist looked at him strangely.
«A boy getting beaten up?» the man asked him, with an incredulous look.
Han didn't know what to say and simply nodded. His palms were sweaty, his knees bounced restlessly.
«And why didn't you react?»
Han gulped, feeling anxious: «I don't know, I thought he loved me...»
«Oh...» the therapist cut him off, «You are gay, I see.» he nodded and wrote something in the notebook, on his face the expression of someone who understood everything.
Han was shocked. His knees had stopped shaking, his eyes never left the face of the man he was paying to make him feel better.
«And how many times did you let this happen?» his tone was almost ironic and was starting to irritate the boy.
«I didn't count them. It lasted months» he replied dryly, clutching the armrests of the chair.
«And why didn't you dump him before?»
And here it is. That question.
The question Han had hoped no one would ask him, the question he had no answer to, the question that tormented him and that made him fear that a similar situation could happen again.
He felt his voice die in his throat and a sense of shame overwhelmed him.
Why? Why hadn't he had the strength to leave Eun before?
He felt himself drowning in his negative thoughts, a tear welled up in his eye - just one, he was used to hold them back.
Why? He was weak, that was the reason.
He had deserved it. He deserved what happened to him and if it wasn't for Seojun he would never have gotten out of it.
Weak.
«Why are you crying now?» the man seemed almost annoyed.
Han still had some rationality left, untouched by that whirlwind of negative emotions. He got up from his chair and, without saying a word, he just left.
He went home crying, feeling worse than before, and on his way back he decided that he would never return to that place again. He was wasting his mother's money on something that was only making him feel worse.
«Baby, how it-» Haru stopped mid-sentence, «Are you crying?!» he asked, noticing his son's face wet with tears.
The boy took off his shoes, trying to silence his sobs, and hung his heavy jacket on the coat rack.
Luckily he had the strength to understand that man wasn't doing his job well. He didn't make him feel in a safe space and for a therapist it's the bare minimum. And despite feeling destroyed and judged, even though the man reminded him of his father and he had somehow hoped for his approval and understanding, after Eun he had promised himself: he would have no longer allowed anyone to treat him like shit.
«It's a waste of time and money!» he blurted quickly wiping his face with his hands, the pain gradually replaced by anger, «That man is an asshole.» he added.
Haru hugged him, apologizing for having chosen an incompetent therapist, but she didn't give up. She tried again, begging him to try another therapist.
«Please, my love, try for me.» she whispered, stroking his black hair as tears streamed down her face.
Han sighed and looked away, hating to see her cry. He hated making her suffer, he hated making everyone around him suffer.
And as his eyes filled with tears again, he noticed a letter leaning against the hall cabinet.
Haru followed his gaze, smiling slightly, «Minho came by, again.» she explained softly.
Han knew that Minho stopped by his house the week before and, honestly, he couldn't understand why. Hadn't he hurt the older? Hadn't he rejected him? Why didn't he just leave?
He grabbed the letter in his hands and opened it; his heart was drumming in his chest and it wasn't just because of the road he had walked crying and at a rapid pace.
The paper wrapper contained only a note, written in a chaotic handwriting that must have been Minho's. And there wasn't much written there, just one sentence, in the center:
"I miss you"
A sigh left Jisung's lips. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at his mother.
«Okay, I'll try again. One last time» he accepted, leaving. He quickly disappeared into his room and, without even thinking about it, he took his new empty diary - as Minho still had his old one - and kept the note there.
"Do you really miss me, Minho?"
. . .
A few days had passed and Han was on his bed staring at the ceiling in silence, thinking back to the new therapist who had managed with her delicacy to make him open up right from the first meeting. She was a young, kind woman and Han had immediately felt safe around her.
They had arranged two meetings a week and, even though it was difficult to get up, get dressed and leave the house, even though it was difficult and painful to talk about himself, he couldn't wait for the next encounter to arrive.
It was impossible that just one session had brought back even a modicum of energy to him, but Han found himself getting out of bed and going down the stairs to head for the kitchen.
Haru didn't say anything seeing him enter the room and sit down in the seat that, like every evening, was ready for him. She just smiled, brought dinner to the table and sat down in front of her son, while a few tears fell silently down her face.
They ate in silence, both alternating a bite with a few tears and a few glances, but they ate together.
After the third session, Han knew it was time to gradually resume a normal life. He already had resumed having dinner with his mother, who looked at him happily. It was time to go back to work too.
So, without any warning, one morning he entered the Little Cupcake café, looking around timidly, as if that place no longer belonged to him. Nothing had changed in the room, except perhaps the position of one of the tables.
Chan was sweeping the floor when he noticed the boy at the entrance. Jisung almost disappeared inside his big coat, his face slightly sunken due to the little food he had ingested lately, his small hands holding his backpack and his knees touching in his usual anime pose.
«Han!» the older exclaimed, dropping the broom and meeting those sweet eyes. He didn't ask any questions, he just hugged the boy tightly and said «I'm so happy to see you, Jisung»
«Me too» Jisung murmured in an almost inaudible tone. Then he broke away from the embrace and went to put on his yellow apron, carefully washed, ironed and placed in his locker.
Chan smiled as he watched the youngest's every move, almost as if he still didn't believe the boy was really back. A small part of him had started to lose hope day by day.
And before returning to work, he took out his cell phone and quickly typed a message.
Orange Hyung
"He's back"
Elle's note:
Hi babieeees, very very short chapter, but I felt like it should be that short this time. Dunno why.
Do you like it?
<3
Moon
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