Blue {DoTae} | complete

Twenty-nine: Better days

Warning: discussion of self-harm. Nothing graphic but it's there.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Doyoung had expected the waiting list to be much longer. Once he'd sent off his referral for therapy, he threw his phone on the bed and stepped outside to ponder on the garden bench, before having to traipse back in a few minutes later to grab a jacket because it was too cold for his liking. It had felt strange. He couldn't stop thinking about how someone else - whoever was going to read his form - knew about his struggles. A professional. And not just about his panic attacks or difficulty focussing on work. His inner thoughts, the bad voices, the drowning urge to count things or tap things or repeat every conversation he's ever had in his head instead of sleeping.

He hadn't been ready to receive an email a week later offering him an appointment. Taeyong had said he'd waited for three whole months, which according to other people's stories isn't that much time either. He can't help but feel guilty. Sure, the storm raging through his mind tends to be so dense and erratic that it definitely affects his ability to carry out day-to-day tasks. But there must be other people who have it worse than him. Doyoung's head races and his skin crawls whenever he gets that thought.

Taeyong had hugged him and pecked his cheeks and forehead, reassuring him that therapy is the best thing he could possibly do, and that he's so proud of him for taking this huge step in his life.

That thought still plagues Doyoung, day and night, right up to the very moment he gets out of the car outside the practice.

"Good luck, honey." His mother gives him an exaggerated thumbs up that only encourages the churning in his stomach but he forces a smile anyway, and slams the car door shut a little too hard.

She's going shopping. He's sitting down and talking about his thoughts for an hour. It's strange to think that he talks the least about what he thinks about most, and yet despite the weights on his shoulders he really doesn't want to talk about it all. He doesn't know where to start. His hand shakes when he signs his name on the patient information form, then his leg bounces up and down when he slouches into a chair in the waiting room.

"Kim Doyoung?" A lady around his mother's age, with features soft enough to contrast the immaculate grey suit she's wearing, calls his name and it takes a moment for it to register in his brain before he's jumping up and rushing to nod and apologise. "Nice to meet you, Doyoung. I'm Daeun. If you'd like to follow me, please?"

She leads the way down a corridor, its walls pasted all over with posters about coping mechanisms and stress management and emergency helplines, but Doyoung takes none of it in because his mind is whirring, foggy and overwhelmed by not knowing quite what to expect. Taeyong ran him through the basics, although everyone's treatment is different and his sessions could be nothing like his boyfriend's.

"Please take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea?" Daeun points to the dark blue armchair and smiles again, as though her features are permanently stuck into the expression. It's kind, though, and seems pure instead of a rehearsed customer-service smile. She's passionate, Doyoung can already tell.

"No, I'm alright. Thank you." Doyoung says. He stares at the grey carpet, counts his breathing, taps his fingers together. Everything to try to calm his racing heart.

"Okay. You can ask for a drink anytime." Daeun says. She takes a seat behind her desk and runs a hand through her greying hair that just reaches her folders. "Shall we make a start?"

Doyoung isn't sure if it's a question or not, so he nods anyway. He hears her chuckle lightly. He grits his teeth.

"Just to let you know, I'm going to be typing as we chat to make a note of the things we discuss. Is that alright with you?" Daeun looks at him and Doyoung meets her eyes for a short moment before shying away and nodding. "Great." A few clicks of the mouse later, she's asking more questions. She wants to know if he feels in danger, if he's at risk of harming himself or others, and Doyoung mumbles out a no.