the doctor will see you now [SOOQI] | ✓

you get my heart racing like an epinephrine drip.

The mother is standing behind her child, hands firmly clasped onto the little boy's shoulder as she accentuates a never-ending tirade to the doctor in front of them.

Every question that Soojin asks the kid with her measured smile, his overly-frantic mother replies in his stead with displaced urgency and almost hysteria. Maybe Soojin should've directed these two to Miyeon instead, she's the pediatrician.

"His ADHD is getting worse." The woman insists to no end as Soojin continues to study the kid, who's been quietly sitting behind her this entire time. Funny.

They've been inside the exam room arguing (or, at least, the mom is arguing and not giving Soojin the chance to speak) for around fifteen minutes already, and yet the kid is being well-behaved as his eyes stare up at Soojin with curiosity. The boy is focusing on her, and he isn't fidgeting in place or making any excessive physical movement—just silently observing. He hasn't interrupted their talking at all. Not even once.

Sure doesn't look like the behavior for an eight-year-old kid diagnosed with ADHD.

"With all due respect, ma'am, he seems fine to me." Soojin says while looking blankly at the mom, who then casts a glance towards her son. The boy just blinks at them.

"Well, he's fine now. Maybe he's shy in front of you. But at home, he's very loud and keeps running around. Sometimes he gets really, really, impatient and throws tantrums. And then, he would just stop."

Soojin straightens up and cracks open the patient file again. She clicks her tongue irritatedly at the general physician diagnosing this kid with ADHD when everything the mom's describing is simply normal behavior in children. Annoying, loud, and petty. Seems about right.

Her gaze trails back to the patient. The little boy isn't staring at her anymore nor is he staring up at his mom either. No, the kid isn't even blinking. He's just staring lazily with jaded eyes pointed somewhere at the floor, his head bobbing back and forth repeatedly as he ignores whatever his mom is starting to say.

Furrowing her brows in thoughtful contemplation, Soojin reaches out to gently take a hold of the boy's shoulder. He doesn't look up from the contact, seemingly unaware of the touch or the talking.

Soojin purses her lips and doesn't tear away from the kid, until he eventually blinks the haze away from his eyes and stares up at her again. Just as curiously as before.

"Does this happen a lot?" Soojin stands upright again and turns towards his mom. "How often does he blank out like this?"

"Sometimes, yes. I just told you already." The woman stresses in a condescending tone. "His doctor says that it's ADHD—"

"It's not ADHD." Soojin interrupts while struggling to keep her temper. She looks down at the kid and then towards his mom, whose face is growing more and more confused by the second. "We'll need to run an EEG test, but this looks like absence seizures to me."

"But, he... he hasn't been seizing!" The mom stammered. "That's impossible!"