INEVITABLE; taehyung [✓]

12;

"so, tell me, why are you bulimic?" my counselor was extremely blatant in asking straight-forward and blunt questions about my depression, my scars, and my bulimia; which made me both uncomfortable and not in a mood to speak to him any further. he had managed to pry some useful information out of me, information that happened to be quite well known amongst everyone that knew me well, but was like solid gold to him.

he sat in a leather chair parallel to the couch i was seated on, his legs crossed properly, clicking his pen in one hand and his clipboard clutched tightly in the other. he pursed his lips in thought, his menacing eyes watching me as i began to fidget in my seat. i was, one, beginning to sink down into the extremely soft couch, and two, extremely uncomfortable.

since my mother discovered i was bulimic, she decided to take the doctors advice and send me to options- a local organization that fed off of depressed teenagers with a dream of being happy once more. as for me, well, i had no faith whatsoever in options.

the facility was a small house, unlike then normal counseling offices such as pathways, which were wide in scale and had various rooms. as for options, well, there was a long hallway with four or five rooms spanning out from it. i was placed in room four with an older man, who i was to call my counselor.

his name was dr jensen. he had graying hair, which was as to be expected of an older gentleman. he was also balding on the top of his head, but hid it with hair in a can, practically a type of spray paint for your scalp to stand in as hair, giving the illusion that you weren't in your fifties and balding. he was always clad in a precessional physicians coat, a bright white one with a golden name plate pinned onto the left side, and always wore khakis and dress shoes. he carried a backup pen in his coat pocket, in case he lost his other pen.

options was designed to pull preteens and teenagers out of their depression, anxiety, or disorders. they had a counselor for each department, spanning from depression and anxiety to anorexia to bulimia. which was why they had five rooms, each one had a certain specialist assigned to the room to help fit that category. anorexia in room one, bulimia in room two, depression in room three, and anxiety in room five. but, room four, where i was placed, was the jack of all trades. it was the special room, as options called it, where the counselor within it specialized in any degree of counseling, helping anyone who had all of the disorders.

and sadly, i did.

so, on monday's through thursday's every week at three o'clock sharp, i was expected to be seated in the beige colored couch parallel to dr jensen.

the thing about options that stood out from all the other counseling offices was the sentimental counselors. the counselors at the other offices were usually short with their patients and acted as if what they said wasn't true nor of any importance to them- but they were there to listen. as for options, their counselors took time to speak with their patients, even if it spanned out longer than the appointment time. although i didn't speak barely a word to my counselor for the half an hour we were sitting in the small, cluttered room, staring blankly at one another as he asked blatant questions about my disorders.

"jenna, we can't go on like this anymore." dr jensen spoke up, going our normal, which was sitting in quiet all session.  "i can't help you if you don't speak to me. and, we can't release you until i think you're ready. all you've told me is that your sister died and that's why you're sad, nothing more."

i brought my legs onto the couch and crossed them, resting my elbow on my knee and placing my chin on my palm. i gazed blankly towards dr jensen, who checked his watch before pressing his lips into a thin line, he placing his clipboard and ink pen on his side table. "our session is over." his voice was low and quiet, as if he was disappointed by our session. every session was the same, but it seemed as if he had faith in this specific session.

seems like he's given up hope on me, just like everyone else i know.

i gathered my things and stood up off of the couch and proceeded towards the door, but stopped in my tracks when my eyes landed on his clipboard- seeing my file was still on the top. i looked around, checking my surroundings to see if anyone was watching me, and as i realized the coast was clear, i quietly tiptoed towards the clipboard and grabbed it, my eyes scanning the words scribbled sloppily on my file.

"patient name; jennavive ashton parkinson

age; 20 years old

disorders; bulimia, depression, anxiety, grief

notes; still refuses to speak, only stated that she was sad because of her sisters passing. though she won't speak, i have hope."

i let out a shaky sigh, disappointed at what i had become. i was disappointing everyone around me; my mother, my doctor, miyoung, taehyung, dr jensen, my sister. everyone had given up on me, and i had a feeling both taehyung and dr jensen were on the brink of giving up.

i placed my file back where i found it, leaving the room, holding in my tears as i left the building.

//

"you want some ramen?" miyoung extended her bowl of half-eaten ramen noodles in my direction, placing her chopsticks over the bowl. i grabbed the small, yet hot, bowl out of her hands along with the chopsticks. i mimicked her actions from earlier, trying to re teach myself how to use chopsticks. i placed the chopsticks between my fingers, guiding the bottom one with my thumb- which caused it to drop into the bowl of ramen. i fished it out of the bowl and placed the pair of slightly dampened chopsticks on top of the bowl, handing the ramen back to miyoung before i ruined it.

"how was it?" miyoung asked, picking up her chopsticks expertly and beginning to chow down.

"good!" i was more cheery than i intended to be, which caught miyoung slightly off guard. she saw through my obvious white lie, though, sending a side glance my way as she continued to eat her ramen.

"you didn't eat any, did you?"

"i didn't." i looked down, pressing my lips into a thin line, grabbing onto the corner of my phone with my thumb and pointer finger, slightly swinging it back and forth.

miyoung learn forward and placed her bowl on the coffee table, a few small pieces of noodles remaining along with the broth. she slouched back into the couch, wiping her mouth off on her sleeve. she sighed, setting a hand on her stomach and patting it lightly. "i feel like... i'm pregnant."

"what have you and minho being doing behind the scenes, miyoung?"
is
miyoung shoved my shoulder playfully, rolling her eyes at my comment. "we broke up a century ago." miyoung narrowed her eyes at me, smirking devilishly. "what about you and taehyung?"

"we've only met twice. he doesn't like me like that, we barely know one another."

"whatever you say," miyoung grabbed her bowl off of the table and handed it to me, and i sent a confused gaze her way, raising an eyebrow. "take that in the kitchen for me."

"i hate you."

"i love you too."

//

i have a friendship like miyoung and jenna's lmao