"If someone loves you, they'd never put themselves in a position to hurt you."
Warning: some mature content/strong language
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1st place in Solo Taehyung category at the MagicShopAwards 2019
2nd place in Solo Taehyung category at the PurpleLightsAw...
"From the first moment that we touched, your arms felt like home."
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FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
Seconds seemed to pass like hours as the vintage grandfather clock by the wall counted down the last moments until striking 2 pm. Several framed children's drawings hung on the sky-blue walls, each and every one of them painted in bright and happy colors. A cheerful and energetic tune chimed from a small TV placed on a coffee table by the wall.
Even though it was evident how much effort had been put in decorating the place and making it aesthetically pleasing for a kid, the letters engraved on one of the doors could make your insides twist.
"Dr. Song - Child Psychiatrist"
The little boy hugged his navy-blue backpack close to his chest as if he was clinging on a life-saving jacket. Sitting on a beige leather couch, his legs hung in the air as he swayed them impatiently. His coffee-brown orbs repeatedly darted to and fro the receptionist typing something in her computer wordlessly and the massive ebony door a couple of meters away from him.
"Dr. Song". The boy stared at the letters that sparked overwhelming fear and anxiety in his little heart. Scrunching his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut and his chin started trembling as if he was about to start crying.
"You're a strong little man, aren't you?" The view of a man smiling warmly and ruffling the little boy's light brown hair appeared in his constrained mind. "I have some errands I have to run today so I won't be able to accompany you to your appointment with Dr. Song. You're a big man now, a man of your own, you'll be okay, right? Don't forget, daddy loves you."
The boy opened his eyes again, inhaling sharply. His small hands tightened the grip around his backpack as his shoulders started shaking. It was the first time he was alone without his father in that very same waiting room. Usually, the strong, towering figure of his dad and his large palm enveloping the boy's tiny one offered comfort and courage.
These weekly appointments had started two weeks ago when his dad explained to him that there was a man, a very smart and knowledgeable man that had wanted to speak with the little boy. He promised it would be fun and exciting, leaving out the word "doctor" on purpose.
"He's going to ask you some questions and I need you to answer them. I need you to be very frank with him, alright? His only goal is to help you, to help us. You want that, right?" The memory of his father's beaming smile made the anxiety in his chest feel less severe, less crippling. The boy's eyes started tearing up, as a lonely teardrop made its way across his pale cheek, leaving a damp trail.
The boy hissed and started frantically rubbing his eyes and straightened up in his seat, a quiet sniffle coming from his freckled nose. His dad had told him that he had been old enough and had to be strong now, he had to be a man. He wouldn't want to disappoint his father or embarrass him by crying in the doctor's office like a baby. He was no longer a baby.
