nurse's office | minsung ✓

4

Jisung's footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, the sound bouncing off the cold, sterile walls as he reluctantly made his way to the nurse's office. His hands were tucked tightly into his sleeves, hiding the bruises and raw scratches that lined his arms. He hated this. Hated being forced into a place he didn't want to be, under the watchful eyes of teachers who probably just thought he was some messed-up kid who couldn't handle life.

It's pointless, he thought for the hundredth time, his feet dragging with each step. The nurse isn't going to fix this.

The very idea of being sent to the nurse felt ridiculous to him. What did they expect? That some antiseptic and bandages would magically fix the turmoil in his mind? That the cuts and bruises on his skin were all that needed tending to? No one ever seemed to realize that the wounds that hurt the most weren't the ones you could see.

As he approached the door to the office, he slowed to a stop, standing there, staring at the handle. His heart pounded in his chest, a steady rhythm of dread. He didn't want to go in. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to run, to leave this place and pretend nothing had happened. But before he could make up his mind, the door creaked open on its own, startling him slightly.

Standing there in the doorway was someone he hadn't expected.

The school nurse wasn't the typical old man or woman Jisung had imagined. No, this guy looked way too young to be a nurse. He was taller than Jisung by a couple of inches, with an aura that was far from the warmth or softness he'd anticipated. His hair was a striking shade of orange, almost auburn, the kind that made him stand out without trying. His gaze, however, was what really caught Jisung off guard—it was cold, stern, and sharp.

For a moment, they stood in silence, Jisung feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Then, the nurse spoke, his voice firm but not unkind. "Jisung, right?" His tone carried a weight that made Jisung straighten up, despite himself.

Jisung blinked, confused by how the nurse already knew his name. How was that possible?

"The teachers mentioned you might be coming by," the nurse explained, his expression not softening in the slightest. He stepped aside, gesturing for Jisung to enter. "My name's Minho. Come on in. Sit down."

Jisung hesitated, every fiber of his being screaming at him to run. But there was something about Minho's presence that made it hard to defy him. Reluctantly, he shuffled inside the small office. It was surprisingly cozy—nothing like the sterile, unwelcoming space he had imagined. The faint smell of oranges lingered in the air, strangely comforting in a school filled with the sharp scent of cleaning supplies.

He took a seat across from Minho, his eyes flickering nervously around the room, trying to focus on anything but the man in front of him. The nurse, meanwhile, sat down across from him with a neutral, almost calculating expression. His eyes, though cold, were somehow piercingly observant, as if he could see past Jisung's forced composure.

"What happened?" Minho asked, his tone neutral, like he was asking about the weather rather than the bruises and scratches that Jisung was trying to hide.

Jisung bristled at the question, his defenses going up immediately. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to explain the chaos that had been swirling in his mind for what felt like an eternity. Didn't want to lay bare the ugly truths about how isolated he felt, or how the world had shifted under his feet when his friends had drifted away, leaving him stranded. Instead, he just stared at the floor, biting his lip, refusing to meet Minho's gaze.

"I don't need to be here," Jisung mumbled, his voice barely audible. "I'm fine."

Minho didn't push. He didn't respond with concern or sympathy, which Jisung was oddly grateful for. Instead, he just watched him quietly for a long moment before speaking again.

"You don't look fine."

The words hit Jisung like a physical blow. He flinched, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. But Minho's tone wasn't accusatory or judgmental. It was...understanding. As if he could see right through the walls Jisung had built around himself, but wasn't trying to tear them down.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it right now," Minho continued, his voice softer this time, more patient. He leaned back in his chair, giving Jisung space to breathe. "But you're here. So, let's just start with that."

The silence that followed felt heavy but not suffocating. It was different from the silence Jisung had grown used to—the kind that filled the spaces between him and the rest of the world. Here, in this small room, there was no pressure to speak, no expectations weighing him down. Minho didn't pry or push, didn't demand answers that Jisung wasn't ready to give.

For the first time in weeks, Jisung felt something other than overwhelming dread. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it was something. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, and his hands, which had been gripping the edge of his chair with white-knuckled intensity, finally relaxed.

"You don't have to explain everything all at once," Minho said, his voice so soft now that it was almost a whisper. "Sometimes, it helps to just sit and breathe."

The simple words hit Jisung harder than they should have. Breathe. When was the last time he had really done that? His breath caught in his throat, but then, slowly, it came. In, out. In, out. The steady rhythm of it somehow made the room feel less suffocating, less overwhelming.

He looked up at Minho then, his eyes meeting the nurse's for the first time. And what he saw there wasn't cold or distant, as he had first thought. Minho's eyes were calm, steady, and oddly comforting.

Minho smiled, just a small, barely-there smile, but it was enough to make Jisung's heart skip a beat. It was the kind of smile you didn't expect from someone who looked so stern—like the surprise warmth of the sun after a storm. Jisung couldn't help but return the smile, his lips curving up, even if only slightly. It was the first time in a long while that he felt even a sliver of calm.

For the first time in forever, Jisung felt safe.

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