Chapter Text
Namjoon nods. He understands Jiyoon’s pain. They usually have sessions for Jiyoon’s depression and social anxiety but these past few weeks they’ve been targeting the things that make her spiral. It’s what he does best and it’s also his job. Being a psychologist, a therapist, is a daily practice of separating himself from his patients’ problems. Days like these arrive. Where being unattached becomes difficult. It’s difficult to be unattached to thoughts that still live in the corners of your mind, he thinks as his eyes stray to the pale green ceiling of his office. Namjoon relates to Jiyoon.
He relates too well for his own liking.
A long forgotten chill seeps into the crevices between his ribcage. Dr. Kim, 27, soothes the chill in his chest with a shiver and a deep sigh. Today’s been a difficult day. The session with Jiyoon went downhill after he asked her about the idea of coming-out. Right now, Jiyoon’s face is scrunched with tear tracks and self-hatred. She’s scared of it, she told him. Scared to the point of crying.
Namjoon has the sudden urge to scream. He wants to yell how her thoughts aren’t necessarily true, that she isn’t unnatural for being who she is. Wants to fold her into his arms so she feels that she isn’t alone, that everything isn’t so far away. He just wants her to be okay. But Namjoon is her therapist, not her brother or her friend. It would be unprofessional and unethical of him.
“Jiyoon-ah. Can you take a deep breath for me, please?” Namjoon helps her keep a rhythm by moving his hands up and down. Up. Down. A bit slower now. Up, then down. “Can you tell me where these thoughts came from?”
“It’s just. I mean it’s abnormal isn’t it? It’s...it’s not okay for me to be… for me to be like this. What would my mom think of me? I showed my best friend the site you showed me last time. And...and she told me that she doesn’t believe people like that exist!” When Jiyoon starts rambling, no one can stop her.
Namjoon lets the teenager talk because this is a therapy session. He wanted her to stop crying, which she’s still doing, but at least she started talking in full sentences. The chill curls inside of Namjoon like a cat settling to nap.
“Jiyoon,” He hands her a cup of water. Taehyung, the other Dr. Kim from across the hall—the one who works with children—told him it works with his patients. “Come on. I know it would be insensitive of me to tell you to calm down if the topic of coming-out causes you this much panic. Is asexual still a word you want to associate with? You agreed last time. How do you feel about it now?”
Jiyoon’s stops abruptly and stares at him. Through him, rather, like an empty shell.
“Look, I understand you,” He continues. “I really do, Jiyoon-ah. I thought of the same thoughts you have now. I struggled to accept them but I did. It’s going to be a dark journey, but you can always trust the light at the end of the tunnel. You’ll get there. And if your label changes, who gives an f? As long as it makes sense to you, that's all that should matter. The important people, the really important ones, would choose to understand instead of hurting you. This isn’t your fault, it’s just the way you are. It’s just the way I am and all the people on the forum are. Our identity is valid, okay, Jiyoon-ah?”
Jiyoon starts sobbing even harder than before. “Thanks. It’s still difficult and...and new, but I’m sticking to the label we found. Just. Thank you so much. I know my mom complains about how I don’t tell her anything but I’m just so scared. And I... I think I’ll be scared for a long time. I don’t want to be scared.”
Namjoon agrees with her. He’s still scared of letting other people know about his sexual identity nine years after he settled with being asexual. Namjoon looks at her over his glasses. He remembers being like her. He remembers the headache from trying not to cry, and the headache after his body feels emptied of his tears. He remembers wanting to rip at his seams to see if he’s all wrong inside. He wanted to stop being himself, wanted to be what society viewed as natural.
“You’ve been through tough stuff before haven’t you, Jiyoon-ah? Despite all of the crap you experienced you’re here right now. You’re here right now. You got through the bad stuff, and you’ll do it again.” He says with a gentle grin that he thinks is encouraging. “Whenever you think you’re unworthy or unnatural or any other hurtful thoughts about yourself, I want you to stop and write it on a piece of paper. I want you to crumple that paper and throw it in a trashcan. I want you to throw the hurtful stuff with it, okay? Thinking like that about ourselves is also a form of self-harm, too. Just because your thoughts can justify it doesn’t mean it’s true.”
His patient, still sobbing but less troubled than before, promises him that she will. He believes she will. Jiyoon wants to get better and he believes she can do it. We all need at least one person who believes in us.
They end the session by scheduling Jiyoon’s next visit. Namjoon hands over a pack of wet tissues before he tells her mom to enter the office. He feels a bit better, having helped somehow. He bids them goodbye, saying he still has a couple more patients to meet.
The chill remains in his chest.