man·ic
/ˈmanik/
adjective
1.relating to or affected by mania.
2.showing wild, apparently deranged, excitement, and energy.

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"Rain....fucking rain", you mumble to yourself as you peer at the sky. The sound of the windshield wipers against the glass act as a metronome, keeping time to the rhythm of the rain cascading above you. You sigh as you turn the dial to increase the temperature in your vehicle. Traffic is nearly at a standstill and your patience is wavering.
Being late to work is the least of your worries though.

Finally, you pull into your designated spot and exit the car, half running to avoid being soaked. Failing miserably of course with only a newspaper to protect you.
"Ah, Good Morning Doctor" chimes Mr.Young, the facility's security guard. "Caught up a creek without a paddle I see" he smiles and gestures towards my dripping newspaper umbrella. You return his smile a shrug as You toss the wilted paper into the trash. "Good Morning" you call back as you trot towards the elevator.

You had been working at the wellness clinic for about 3 months but still hadn't made an effort to get to know any of the staff beyond small talk in passing. You preferred it that way. Opening up and becoming too personal kept you good at your job. The more objective you were, the better you were at being on your toes with keeping it straight with your patients and that you believed was the best way in treating them. Though you weren't a medical doctor, you knew mental health and healing the psyche was just as delicate. Admittedly so, you also just didn't have the ability to form any personal relationship after...

You're knocked out of your thoughts as the elevator doors open to your floor. The clean lavender scent fills your senses as you approach the reception desk. You greet your assistant at her desk warmly, grab the appointment log, and enter your office.

The day went slowly and routinely. Charting and dictations in the morning, sessions in the afternoon. You were about to wrap up for the day when you notice one more patient on the log.

A faint knock on your office door pulls your attention from your computer screen briefly as the doorknob turns.

"Come in!", you call over the monitor.
A tall figure emerges from behind the door and you continue to tap at your keyboard, finishing an email. The figure lingers in the doorway as if waiting for your acknowledgment.

"Please come in...Namjoon right?" You lean over to scan your appointment log once again, confirming your patient's name. "Have a seat and make yourself comfortable. I'll be right with you". You click send and slide away from your desk, turning towards your mini-fridge.

"Would you like something to drink? I have water, Sprite, apple juice..." you pause awaiting a response. When silence persists you stand up and turn around, your eyes met immediately by the tall figure.

He stands in the middle of the room, his hands tucked into his pockets, head tilted slightly as he scans you.

You suddenly feel like an exposed nerve as his gaze travels from your eyes, down your frame, then back up. There was something unreadable about his eyes and his stance. He made you nervous. After a short but seemingly long pause, Namjoon smiled politely and declined then took a seat on the long couch green couch you offer to patients.

"Ahem ok", you clear your throat, grab a bottle of water, and shut the fridge.

As you walk over to take your seat in the armchair across from him, Namjoon gazes around the room. At this moment you notice how young he appeared in the face. His skin glowed a smooth tan shade, decorated with elaborate black ink from his wrists extending up to his forearms and disappearing underneath the rolled sleeves of a black fitted t-shirt. His shoulders were broad and you suspect the tattoos either end or begin just below his collar bone. His face his soft yet chiseled, lips full and pressed together in a line, forcing two magnificent dimples on either side of his face to emerge.

"Shit...he's handsome", you think to yourself.
His eyes settle back on you as you swallow, remembering you're a professional for a moment. "

"Ok hello, I am Dr.Song. I understand you were Dr.Ivy's patient before he retired. I filled his position and took on a few of his patients. So today we can use this session to just get to know each other" you say quickly as you flip through a small stack of manilla folders.

"They hired you to replace Ivy?" Namjoon huffs. You don't appreciate his tone but you try not to be offended.

"Yes..why is that amusing?" You smile kindly, trying to avoid looking directly into his eyes.

"Oh no disrespect, you just seem really young is all. Ya'know, to be as qualified as Ivy" he replies while leaning back and stretching his arms along the back of the sofa, bringing your attention to his enormous thighs wrapped in distressed black denim.

Down girl

He seems very comfortable for someone in a therapy session and that tells me he's been to more than a few. You were used to people equating your age for inexperience but you had the diplomas, degrees, and the debt to prove it. You entered college at 17 and worked tirelessly all the way through grad school to receive your doctorate in Psychology by the time you were 28. You took great pride in that.

"I get that a lot, so"  you lightly tap the open file and begin to skim over Namjoons file.

"Kim Namjoon,26, bipolar disorder, manic depressive episodes, treats with ...." you rattle off Dr. Ivy's notes somewhat quietly.

"Sheesh, You make it sound way sexier than old Ivy did" Namjoon snorts and runs his hands through bleach dyed blonde hair, styled handsomely off his forehead. You smirk and continue to run your pen down the sheet.

"You were diagnosed at 21 after some violent episodes and have been seen regularly for therapy since. How are you feeling today mood-wise, on a scale of 1-10?" You look up at him and can't help but shrink a bit under his intense stare.

"Seriously? The scale of 1-10?"

"Yes" you nod.

"Uhm...I don't know. Maybe an 8" Namjoon stretches and sits up, elbows resting on his knees.

"8 is good, how long have you been at an 8?" You scribble on a new sheet.

"Maybe a couple of days, I can't say. I hope you don't mind me saying this but you have the most beautiful skin"

Caught completely off guard, you look up at a distracted Namjoon whose eyes are no longer on your face, but traveling down your exposed neck.

"Err...Thank you...Uhm..so tell me how long you tend to stay on the incline with your good moods?" You continue, trying to contain the blush that's bubbling up.

"It depends, I can go weeks on a high. So no ring huh? Single?"  You can't help but laugh at his boldness.

"That's good. Do you have a specific routine or activity that affects how long you stay on the up end? What do you do for a living?" You lean back in your chair. His light flirting wasn't at all daunting, despite how obviously handsome he was.

Namjoon smiles cheekily and responds" I'm a musician during the week. I have a residency at a club in the city. And  I occasionally do porn on the weekends for extracurricular"
You nearly choke on your drink and liquid dribbles down your chin.

"Oh, shit I'm sorry " Namjoon laughs as he leans over to grab a kleenex from the coffee table next to you and hands it to you. The close proximity allows you to inhale his scent and you feel warmth pool somewhere deep within you.

"Oh no, it's fine" you reassure him, embarrassed as all hell. You pat your bottom lip and chin then glance up at Namjoon, who is staring shamelessly at your lips.

"That was a joke by the way...the porn on the weekends. That's a joke" Namjoon explains when you furrow your brows. Unintentionally, a look of relief washes over your face.

"That's your prerogative " you exhale and continue with your questions.

Throughout the session, a strange type of tension grew. You could almost taste it in the air. When you spoke to you, Namjoon's gaze was fixed on your eyes, boring into you then occasionally to your lips. You bit them out of habit and he'd gasp silently, probably hoping you didn't notice.

What am I doing??

When he spoke, it took everything in you to keep your eyes from traveling down his long toned tattooed body. His lips were taunting you, pink and full. His smile dazzling, dimples captivating. When you crossed your legs to secretly squeeze your thighs together in yearning, Namjoon acted oblivious to it.

But he noticed...

The session ended and you both stood to shake hands, touching for the first time. That's when you felt it. The attraction was imminent. His strong long fingers gently stroked your knuckles in a way that sent bolts of electricity straight to your core. Blushing you release his hand and he smiles. Bowing to you respectfully as he turns to leave.
Don't look at his butt don't look at his butt don't you dare look at his butt

When your office door closes you slump into your chair and fan yourself. Flicking water on your face and neck.

What the hell was that.........