forever won't wait

paints in grey

It was nearly a week later when Jimin caught another glimpse of the new patient.

The young adult ward at Silver Oaks Psychiatric Hospital was in no way unique. It had the usual touchy-feely posters lining the walls, the same therapy sessions, and the same hushed tension settling through the air as every other hospital Jimin had been in.

Not that there were all that many of them, but you know. See one and you've seen them all.

There was one exception to this, one thing that stood out: the outdoor garden. Sure, it was fenced in (ten feet of chain link with barbed wire at the top) and sure, there were scowling orderlies every twelve feet, but the blooming flowers and bright sunlight more than made up for it.

That had been when Jimin had first arrived. Now, the flowers were all dead and the leaves all fallen. Still, he often asked to be taken out to the garden, and when it was deemed that his behavior had been good enough he sat on a wooden bench, bundled in a fluffy parka. Sometimes he'd bring a sketchbook and pencils, drawing birds or the people he saw around him. Occasionally, he'd just sit and think.

It was an uncharacteristically warm morning, and Jimin wasn't the only one outside (though he certainly was the only one wearing a winter coat). A therapy group sat in a patch of sunlight, discussing coping techniques or maybe future goals. He was wishing that he'd brought his sketchbook along (a sparrow had landed on a nearby oak tree) as he heard the other side of the bench creak.

A side glance quickly told him that he did not know this person, and he shifted away from them, towards the bench rail. The person inhaled a long breath, and turned his head towards Jimin, as if to say something.

"It's a, um, a nice day."

Jimin paused. In the time that he had been here, only a handful of other patients had tried to talk to him. Of that handful, approximately 0 had ever mentioned the weather.

Jimin must've nodded in response, because he kept talking.

"I saw you from one of the windows and I thought that... I mean, I wasn't...Shit. Can I start over?"

Jimin finally turned to look at the other man head on, and the realization hit him full force. He knew this man. It didn't seem that the other man-Hoseok, that is-had recognized him as well.

With a slight nod of his head, Jimin stood up on shaky legs and rushed back inside, where he promptly fell into a chair. Nurses rushed to help him regain his balance and walk the short distance back to his room.

---

The next time that Jimin saw Hoseok was lunch that same day.

Jimin had spent part of the morning in physical therapy, with great improvement noted by his main doctor. The second part was spent in one-on-one therapy, with very little improvement as noted by his psychologist. Lunch soon arrived, and Jimin made his way down to the large school-style cafeteria. Today's carefully balanced meal included a choice of several sandwiches and various fruits and vegetables. He settled on a basic peanut butter with white bread (plus a bright red apple) and worked his way through the crowded tables to his favorite, the smallish round one at the back where no one else ever wanted to sit.

Hoseok was already sitting there.

Jimin searched around for another empty place, but none were to be found. Bracing himself for the worst, he sat down.

"Oh hey! It's you! Hope I didn't scare you off earlier or anything." Hoseok smiled as he spoke. "I'm Hoseok, by the way. You can call me Hobi if you want."

Jimin nodded. Did he really not remember him? You spend nearly three years in the same school as someone, but as soon as you graduate you lose all memories of them.
Then again, Jimin didn't know what Hoseok had been through. Everyone here was dealing with their own shit, and even though it seems like the sun shines right out of Hobi's ass, he wasn't committed for nothing.

"You really don't talk much, do you? Is that why you're here? Wait, I'm not supposed to ask that, am I?"

Jimin shrugged. He quickly tried to finish his food, only making it about a third of the way through his sandwich before the guilt began to set in. He set it down in defeat.
It wasn't that he refused to get better, no matter what his shrink seemed to think. It just wasn't as easy as it seemed. He hadn't lost the weight overnight, and he sure wasn't going to put it back on overnight either.

Hoseok continued to chatter on as Jimin was lost in his thoughts until the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and startling them both. Jimin stood and walked away from the table, throwing his uneaten food away as he walked out the door. To his slight dismay, Hoseok was still following him.

He had group therapy next. Each of the different groups was divided, first by age and then by disorder. Those with more than one type of disorder had alternating sessions between two groups. Jimin was currently scheduled for eating disorder group on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and anxiety disorder group on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
A quick glance out of the corner of his eye told him that either Hoseok was following him, or that he was also headed to anxiety group therapy.

By the time they had reached the room, it became obvious that the latter was true. A chair had been added to the usual circle in the middle of the room and there was a sense of unease, the one that hung around with every change in routine here.

People came in, found their places, shifted around, and settled down. The counselor was the last to arrive, carrying a folder nearly bursting with papers and a bag of dulled pencils.

"Hello everyone! As I'm sure you've already noticed, we have someone new joining us today. Hoseok, would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Yeah, sure!" Hoseok answered, nearly jumping out of his seat. "Hi there, I'm Hoseok. I've been here about a week. It's my first time at a place like this."

"Would you mind telling us why you're here? Don't worry, none of us are here to judge you."

Hoseok's face fell. "Yeah...I overdosed, a little while ago...Maybe two weeks now? I don't remember too much. Anyways, they brought me here, I tried to leave, they wouldn't let me, I tried to fight some people, and now here I am."

"Well, we can work on opening up later. For now, let's go around and share our own experiences, just so that everything's fair."

For the next hour, they went around the circle, each person detailing exactly how long they'd been in the long term ward, their diagnosis, and their tragic backstory. Finally, they got to Jimin, the very last person sitting in the circle.

Everyone stared at him expectantly. Jimin stared back. The counselor, sensing the problem, quickly explained for Jimin.

"This is Jimin. He's been here about two months, and I'm afraid that we've yet to get him to speak." He seemed hesitant to say anything else on the subject, not that Jimin would have cared. "Let's end this session early. I think we've done enough for one day."

Chairs scraped and voices murmured. All Jimin could focus on was getting out of that terribly stuffy room; taking the opportunity to leave and make his way down to the reading room.

He was only a few hundred feet down the hall when that same peppy voice piped up again.

"So like, you just don't talk? That's good, I thought you hated me. Hey, where're you going? Do you mind showing me around a bit? I don't think I even know how to get back to my room from here."

Hoseok's voice grew louder, surrounding Jimin until he couldn't breathe. Jimin broke out into a sprint, desperate to get away from the sounds, leaving Hoseok standing alone, confused.