（粗心）𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗬𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗛 | 𝗠𝗡

||>> DISTASTEFUL TRUST

[+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.