BLOSSOMED | SEOKSOO FF

PART 31

The next sessions marked a turning point for Seokmin. He sat across from Dr. Wonwoo, his usual defensive posture softened, his eyes no longer darting around the room like a cornered animal. This time, he seemed willing—hesitant but willing—to confront the demons within him.

At first, his confessions trickled out haltingly. "I—I know what I did was wrong," he muttered during one session, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not just to Jisoo but... to everyone. My mother, my brother, myself."

Dr. Wonwoo’s calm gaze never wavered. "And how did it make you feel, Seokmin? The control, the guilt, the anger—how did it feel to carry all of that?"

Seokmin hesitated, his fists clenching on his lap. His initial instinct was to deflect, to push away the vulnerability clawing at his chest. But then he remembered Jisoo's words. Prove them that you can love me. Actually love me.

"It felt... like drowning," he admitted, his voice cracking. "Like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew where Jisoo was, who he was with. And even then, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough."

The words came faster after that, tumbling out in fits and starts. He confessed the guilt he felt every time he hurt someone, every time he crossed a line, every time he justified his actions as love.

"There were moments I knew I was wrong," Seokmin said, his voice raw. "But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I thought if I just held on tighter, everything would be okay. That I could make him stay."

Mingyu, who had been quietly observing from the corner of the room, leaned forward slightly, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. "And now? Do you still believe that?"

Seokmin shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. "No. I see it now. I wasn’t protecting him—I was trapping him. Hurting him. I became the thing I swore I’d never be."

Dr. Wonwoo nodded approvingly. "Acknowledging that is a step forward, Seokmin. Growth doesn’t happen overnight, but this? This is progress."

As the days turned into weeks, Seokmin began to embrace the process fully. He no longer resisted Wonwoo’s probing questions or Mingyu’s gentle encouragements. When the sessions became too overwhelming, he allowed himself to break down instead of bottling everything up.

One particularly grueling session had Seokmin recounting the incident with Seongwoo, his voice trembling as he admitted to the murder.

"I told myself he deserved it," Seokmin said, his hands trembling. "But it wasn’t about Jisoo—it was about me. I was angry, and I wanted to feel powerful."

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, his calm, analytical expression unchanging. "And now? Do you still feel powerful?"

Seokmin shook his head vehemently. "No. I feel... empty. Weak. And ashamed."

Mingyu chimed in, his voice warm but firm. "That shame? It’s a sign you’re starting to see the truth, Seokmin. It’s not supposed to feel good—it’s supposed to push you to be better."

Outside the sessions, Mingyu made an effort to check in on Seokmin regularly. Whether it was helping him with small tasks or simply sitting with him during meals, Mingyu’s steady presence became a source of comfort.

"You’re doing good, man," Mingyu said one afternoon as they sat in the hospital garden. "Wonwoo’s impressed, and trust me, that guy doesn’t say that lightly."

Seokmin managed a small, tentative smile. "I’m trying. For Jisoo. For myself." He whispered to himself with a faintglimmer of hope. "For us."

Mingyu clapped him on the shoulder, his grin as bright as ever. "That’s all anyone can ask for."

Back in the sessions, Wonwoo and Mingyu reviewed Seokmin’s progress regularly.

"He’s not there yet," Wonwoo said during one of their debriefings. "But he’s moving in the right direction. He’s starting to let go of the lies he told himself for so long."

Mingyu nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It’s going to be a long road, but I think he’s finally ready to walk it."

Seokmin’s growth wasn’t linear—there were setbacks, days when the guilt threatened to swallow him whole, days when he wanted to give up. But each time, he reminded himself of Jisoo’s words:

"Prove to them that you can love me. Actually love me."

It was a slow, painful process, but Seokmin was finally learning what it meant to love—not with control or obsession, but with patience, kindness, and accountability. And for the first time in years, he dared to hope.