[+Park Jimin]

"Baking?" he asked in a tone that sounded much like 'really? you sure bout that park?' Jimin nodded, confirming his decision. The silence that stretched in between the two was one of comfort.

"Baking," he said firmly.

The doctor's shoulders drooped low as he sighed and shrugged.

"Alright. If that's what you want." he wrote it down on his notes. "The class meets twice a week, on Mondays and Wednesdays. After a month we shall see if it has helped you."

 Jimin fiddled with the linen edges of the blankets, slowly registering everything. The doctor continued, his head sagging. " In the meantime, your afternoon interaction time with a supervisor has been raised by ten minutes, understood?

"Yes sir," Jimin responded, his expression was that of slight unison. "gamsahabnida (thank you)."

 One question didn't yet manage to melt through Park. So, he voiced it out "No floor crew?" There were usually four orderlies with him in case he got violent. Instead, he got a spineless supervisor.

"It's my job to help." The doctor rose from his chair, his brown leather notepad sticking close to his chest. 

"Oh and also, I recommend you write your emotions out in a journal to help you manage your emotions better. I shall provide one for you." 

Dr. Kang walked towards the door,  the pad of his fingers punching in the code on the number pad. The door slid open and he exited without a backward glance. 

The dancer breathed out a sigh of relief before sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. He ran his hands back over his hair, sweeping his soft wavy sunburnt hair back.

The silence began to press in against him and it reminded him of the eerie fact that he was alone. The only company he had were the doctors, therapists, but never patients. He wasn't trusted enough yet to be around patients for long.

 His Interaction sessions were 15 minutes -now 25- and he always had the same four muscular orderlies hovering around him, ready to take him down if they needed to. A few had tried befriending him by joking or offering to play a game of chess or checkers.

 Jimin didn't know why, but they just annoyed him, got a wave of apprehension mixed with irritation washing over him. They were there to tackle or sedate him, not to be his friend. He would have loved having a friend. 

Someone who'd have a genuine concern for his overall well-being. He'd try letting himself lose sometimes but seconds wouldn't tick by before he'd rewind the whole scenario down and go back to being the absurdly silent Jimin he always was. 

His eyes whizzed to a spot on the door. Would stars embroider his destiny and have the antique patient come out of his shell with the help of the baking classes he'd be attending?

 His antisocial aggressive, easily annoyed shell.

 Being around his own species somehow, always got his shackles rising. Maybe it was a bad idea to take the class. The soft pad of his index finger was horizontally rubbed against the surface of his lower lip. Should he just..control X it?

The door slid open again and Jimin turned to see the brunette step in with a black and white patterned composition book in one hand and a small paper cup in the other. Jimin's darkling fears seeped into his mind, a wave of anticipation washing over him.

 The flower-like boy accepted the book, eyebrows piquing at the cup his doctor was holding

"The pharmacy told me this might help with your hostile tendencies." the doctor announced out to him, his spine straight as he observed Jimin's physical features, closely taking in each of his instinctual habits. 

So far he knew that the aggressive patient bit his lips often was eloquent with his manners, and had a wholesome understanding of art buried in him.

 Some flowers weren't always allowed to bloom. 

The doctor raised his chin skywards, continuing as he fixed his glasses "Experimental really considering it's an anti-anxiety medication, but it's worth a shot."

Jimin took the cup, tossed the two small blue pills into his mouth, and swallowed them down. Many questions floated past him. It was a curse, to have his heart pounding that hard.

 A curse to have blood coursing through his veins at a speed that could get his vessels bursting open every time he felt anxious. He could sometimes feel it in his ears. Oh lord! He was almost on the verge of having an aneurism. That too for no reason at all.

The doctor tossed a black pen onto Jimin's lap.

"Your journal is subject to inspection any time we feel you might be harboring violent actions to a person," Kang added, then set his hand on his hip. "I don't want to read it. They're your private thoughts and believe it or not, I do have some trust in you."

Jimin snapped his head up and looked at his doctor with wide eyes, his heart did not just displace and locate itself somewhere in his legs. It was funny at this point. His voice did not hint at malice either.

 Someone actually trusting him was shocking. It was rain marrying snow as they both let each of their divinity crash and collide, bursting open flakes of hail onto each sensitive nerve endings of your skin. It was indescribable. The weight of the words he let out shook Jimin's universe.

The doctor's lips were pressed tightly shut before he nodded his head continuing "In any case, I'm going to get you into that baking class." 

The weather outside had now softened, streaks of sunlight hitting the court, its surface bestrewed by grass.

 " See you Monday and not any day sooner, hopefully." he turned his back and exited, not waiting for Jimin's reply.

Jimin watched him leave, then turned to the composition book and leafed mindlessly through the paper. He uncapped the pen, flipped to the first page, and began writing.

Hello Jagiya. What am I supposed to write on you? My feelings and thoughts? Jagiya, things have been gut-wrenching for me, there's a lot that I cannot explain. 

I'm madly frustrated right now and panic has been my only mother all these years. I saw this man and ...and I can't quite lay a finger on his whereabouts. My memory screams out the fact that know him somehow!!! 

 Motherfucker, who are you ?!!! 

Fury vibrated through his very being as the tip of his pen ripped through the pages while he overdid the exclamation marks. 

I trust my gut feeling that I have indeed seen him. Ya Allah! Who was that man? Speaking of trust.

Dr. Kang said he trusted me. In a matter of a few sly seconds, another Jimin stood before the seated dancer. He looked exactly like Jimin, except he looked peculiarly pleased and inwardly seething. 

He had crimson red eyes and his body stood tall, a false charming smile was plastered onto his face. Overall, he was thin and pale as the chalk cliffs of Dover in a full moon. The red-eyed creature had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back.

 "I haven't been trusted in a while Jimin. Maybe that's supposed to help me?  "The docile-looking Jimin questioned the creature opposite to him." The doctor trusts me to not punch some bastard so I should respect that Jimin," he claimed.

 Upon hearing that, the red-eyed Jimin snickered, eyes turning an inky black as he cackled, palms by his cheeks. 

["Last time you were trusted with something like that Park, you ended up with one hell of a police chase, several court visits, a restraining order, cell time, and if I remember correctly" his gaunt index finger sharply pointed at the flower-like boy," you got an all-expense-paid trip to this place." ]

He smiled, every limb in his pale body at peace.

 The recipient of such a comment held his head in his palms. This reflection of him scared fear away, it was never the other way around.

 The seated flower-like boy wiped the salty liquid streaming down his red cheeks, letting out small sobs as he wiped his pink button nose time and again with the pad of his thumb. He nodded agreeing with the red/often black-eyed creature.

" Guess they don't want people like me in public. They might as well lock me in with other mentally unstable people. "

His body doubled over in pain, hands covering his ears tightly in useless attempts to silence the voices down in his head. It played over and over in his brain like a video record on loop.

" I mean it's not like I wanted to kill her, it was an accident. I loved her. She had my child in her womb, why would I kill her?" He questioned to no one in particular. Jimin's red-eyed look-alike had disappeared long back.

Jimin dropped the pen, his face pale and blank. His breathing was shaky and so were his hands.

 Why weren't they ever under his control?

 His face was now contorted in pain, lips remaining downturned. What kind of dissatisfying enigma was this? He pressed his flushed sweaty palms against his tear-filled eyes.

 He held some things back for so long and thanks to a pen on paper they had now broken free.

"Mian haeyo...jagiya (i'm sorry...baby) " he sniffled quietly. He repeated the phrase over and over again in an endless chain of pleas, praying it reached her ears in heaven.

Maybe there was something to this journal thing after all.

AN;

i've realized one thing. i write on anything, i cannot have a specific topic that i'll write about. This leads to me snarling at myself every time I sit writing my plot idea. you're amazing, always.