implausible - woosan

chapter twenty six

possible TWs: mental institute/PTSD descriptions

wooyoung san

12.08.17

the first tuesday of the summer holiday is not one san's been looking forward to. why? because it means it's time for him to pay his mother a visit.

when he told wooyoung he had not seen her since he was fifteen, it had not been a total lie. the thing is, san does see her, every three months or so. but the woman she is today... that isn't his mother. so it's easier not to mention the whole truth.

thinking about wooyoung will not do him much good. he'd asked to take the trial shift at that random café on an impulsive whim, desperate to busy himself. and then, like a cosmic joke, wooyoung had shown up. on a date, no less.

and san could have let it pass. he should have. but he couldn't help himself. everything is worse, now, because he couldn't keep his stupid hands to his idiotic self. especially because his heart betrays him, every second, when it flutters, thinking of wooyoung. how he doesn't hate him.

nothing like a trip to the psych word to put a damper on his mood. 

he always has to mentally prepare himself for these visits to the institution that's caring for her, and today is no different. san hates the building with a rigid passion; it reminds him of everything he doesn't have, not to mention the time he spent there.

pulling his jacket more tightly around himself and tugging down the sleeves, san takes a deep breath before going inside. once he's over and done with it, he won't have to come for another three months. the thought manages to somewhat comfort him.

the walls are still painted a dull gray colour, unchanged from every other time san has seen them. doors align the corridor, white and pristine with identical mesh squares near the top. the only thing differentiating each one from the other is the name scrawled upon each board adorning them. it's terribly lonely.

"i'm here to see patient seventy-eight." san speaks up when reaching the reception desk. "mrs. choi."

the woman behind the desk is young, perhaps working here for the summer. she seems to be a new member of staff, which san is grateful for; he won't be asked unwanted questions.

"are you family?" comes the clipped textbook reply, to which san rolls his eyes. apparently his mother's restrictions have been raised again.

"i'm her son." he confirms bitterly, taking the pen that's offered to him in order to fill in the visitor's log.

she smiles at him apologetically as he writes, undoubtedly as she does to everyone who finds themselves in this position. it only makes him dislike her, though; san doesn't want her sympathy. he doesn't want anyone's sympathy.

when he's done, he doesn't bother returning that practiced smile, restraining himself from making a sarcastic remark. the faster he does this, the better.

unsurprisingly, a nurse accompanies him to her room, although he knows the way well enough by now. the woman is one he has come to know, but not as well as he has some of the other staff here. san only hopes he will not run into them today.