I haven’t seen that horrified look on Irene since the day she found me frantically reorganizing our university library—and I’m talking thousands upon thousands of books. It’s the look that makes me feel kind of insane. A reality check of some sort. Like hey, maybe I’m acting too psycho for someone awfully sick in the head.

twitches when I come back from the bathroom. “What? I washed my hands,” I say defensively. We had this ongoing joke from the past because the ex that we shared didn’t wash his hands after relieving himself. He said it wasn’t necessary because a little shake was enough. To say the least, he was not in my pants for very long.

We both avoided a major red flag and luckily the entire population of viruses. Like I'm not even that type of OCD, but it gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.

My eyes travel from her face to her hands. She’s holding my phone. And I still don’t see the problem. I don’t blame her. Irene once questioned why my search histories were filled with gardening tools. You see, I don’t garden, so she naturally assumed I was planning on sending someone to an early grave.

Nope. I was actually obsessed with shovels for a hot minute. Long shovels. Short shovels. I’m not sure why I thought I needed to buy every single one. Irene called a serious intervention, and it was very much needed for my sake and my wallet’s sake.

“You’re texting Baekhyun,” Irene initially says this calmly. She’s processing. Then, she’s not. “You’re texting Byun ing Baekhyun!”

I titter, picking my calluses. “We work together.”

“Okay.” Irene lets out an incredulous laugh. “Do colleagues normally t?”

“What?” I snatch my phone from her and scroll through my messages with Baekhyun.

Baekhyun: How big do you want it

Me: Big enough to fit comfortably in my hands

Baekhyun: Got it. Text me when you make it.

Me: We’re getting handsy, Byun

Baekhyun: Not if I get to it first

I can see how she misinterpreted that. “We were talking about a book. The first edition of Micellar Lives was printed today, o.”

Irene scrunches her nose. “Okay, but nonetheless—I need to intervene.”

“Intervene? Why?”

She sighs. “Stop picking your nails, and we’ll talk.”

I look down at my calluses that have begun to open and bleed. “Oops.”

“I think you know.”

“Hard to say,” I feign.

“You’re getting dangerously close to crossing the lines with him,” she warns.

I purse my lips before saying, “um—would it be helpful if I were to include the exhibitionism?”

“You guys are ing in public?!” Irene slams her hand on the coffee table so hard that our teas tremble and spill.

I squint at her. “I don’t think psychologists are supposed to yell at their patients.”

“I don’t think coworkers should be engaging in public especially ones that have bad blood.”

“We’ve only done stuff. It’s not like he’s bending me over and railing the life out of me,” I mutter. I’m way too comfortable with disclosing this type of stuff with Irene. Then again, between her and me, we have no boundaries. I also know every aspect of her life like the time she was simultaneously on coke and caffeine to get through her dissertation. 

“Doesn’t make it less true,” she chastises. “Besides, it’s not a matter of if, but when. Do you get the seriousness of this situation?”

Frankly, I’ve been too busy and in over my head to feel shame. And the confusion on top of my supposed hatred for Baekhyun? I’ve been putting a raincheck on dealing with those thoughts. It’s always better when I don’t overthink.

Yet, a part of me knows I should feel shameful.

“I don’t like thinking. It makes me nervous,” I tell her, leaning back in the comfortable armchair that is ironically making me feel more uncomfortable because I’ve finally decided to visit Irene’s office as a patient.

“You can’t keep trying to shove your feelings down when it’s convenient for you.”

“I honestly don’t see the harm. No one’s been hurt. It’s nicer that way.”

Irene holds up her index finger with a stern look etched on her face. “Nicer for you?”

I open my mouth, but she interrupts.

“Babes, Chanyeol cries to me every time he drinks. Do you wanna know why? Because he misses his sister. He has all this pressure to keep the family together. A dad that is away for half the time. And don’t even get me started on you. When you pretend you’re okay because it’s nicer, you end up shutting everyone out. You isolate yourself. Literally. No texts. No phone calls. You might as well be strangers.”

She’s so terribly right that it hurts to breathe. I want to curl into a ball and never talk to anyone again. Which is so ing ironic. “I’m sorry, Rene. I just—I’m trying to get better.”

“I know you are,” Irene says. Her stern expression morphs into a gentler—more compassionate one. “That’s why you’re here. In my office. I’m proud of you.”

“But?” I drawl.

She leans forward, clasping her hands. “We need to talk about you and Baekhyun because it looks like you’ve forgotten.”

I hold my breath because it’s still hard to talk about it. I don’t think I ever want to talk about it, but I’m going to have to put on my grown-up pants and deal.

“He leaked your guys’ tape.”

The words are like cement blocks crushing my windpipes. “It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

She snorts. “How else should I say it? Wait—I got it. Byun Baekhyun illegally distributed ography that contained you, and you didn’t press charges.”

“You certainly have a way with words,” I comment offhandedly, wondering if I can somehow disappear into the ground.

“Frankly, I don’t get you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“We’re past that. You’re having with him.”

“I’m not having with him—“

“Hold on—sorry. I meant that you will have with him.”

I make an indignant noise. “Okay! I won’t. Christ.”

“Sad to be the bearer of bad news, but Jesus certainly isn’t helping you out.”

“Why are you my therapist again?”

“Because I’m your only friend,” she deadpans.

I sit in silence because I can never win against Irene. She’s like me but way more intense. Her pretty face is only a front. She’ll chew you up and spit you out. Of course, I say that in an utmost loving manner. “Do you think I’m—“ I swallow. “Projecting in the worst way possible?”

“I don’t know, honey. You’re literally sleeping with the enemy.”

“Oh please. Save the dramatics. I might be in publishing, but that doesn’t make me a heroine. He’s not some villain that I can wave a magic wand at—in my case, bludgeon to death—for him to disappear.”

“No. But you can separate yourself from him. Starting with—oh, I don’t know—maybe keeping your hands to yourself?”

“May I suggest that you get laid?”

Irene briefly rolls her eyes. “I like my own bed, thank you very much.”

“Is Chanyeol too busy—“

“Yun! We’re talking about you, for ’s sakes. You aren’t a seamstress. You can’t be weaving your way through conversations and changing the flow at your liking.”

“I’m a grown woman, and he’s attractive. Can you blame me?”

Irene shakes her head. “Would a grown woman avoid serious discussions because it makes her nervous?”

“Hey! I’m mentally ill.”

“And you’re in my office, so what’s your point?”

“Why can’t you just let me be a girl boss? I can do this. I can do casual, and I can surely dump him when I don’t need him to fulfill my ual fantasies anymore.”

Irene rolls her eyes for the nth time. “Yun. There are plenty of attractive and normal guys. Especially. Ones that don’t leak a ing tape of a high school girl on her graduation day.”

“That bad?”

“I sound harsh. I know. But I’m just worried about you. You’ve liked him before. What’s going to stop you from falling for his charming bad-boy demeanor again?”

“Don’t crucify me like that. You make me sound so pathetic—ugh. I wasn’t in love with him. He was just—quite a character in high school.”

“Let me further exemplify your point, Yun. I think you mean a major A-grade with no regard for personal boundaries.”

“Well, I have no personal boundaries either so PEMDAS?”

Irene looks like she wants to mull me with her car. “You’re either stupidly optimistic or just a whole ‘nother breed of idiot. Your standards for men are complete . Would you take him home to see your mother?”

I smile with a deadness that rivals a cemetery. “Well, Rene, that’s a good point, but you see—my mother abandoned me so I guess I can’t very well check that box off, can I? So what I’m saying is might as well make the best of it. If I’m destined to drown in my own stubbornness, so be it. I guess you’ll be the ones picking up the pieces again.”

“This isn’t coping, Yun. Avoidance is your fastest ticket to regression. You don’t want to go back to that state where you’re too occupied with your compulsions to take care of yourself. Chanyeol still has nightmares about finding you half-dead in the bathtub.”

“Well, I definitely won’t off myself before I take the chief-editor position. After? Now, that’s another story for another day.”

Irene gets up, waving her hand for me to follow.

“Where are we going?” I ask when she leads me out of her office after grabbing her purse.

She doesn’t even bother glancing at me when she says, “taking you out for lunch because I know damn well that you can’t answer my questions if and when I ask you about your last meal.”

I beam. What would a mentally ill gal do without her bestie? In my case, definitely deceased.

[a/n] man. this chapter makes me laugh. irene is so done with yun. i mean i don't blame her. i just wanted you guys to see that people with mental health disorders can be high functioning. sometimes, they can be dumb and make bad decisions yet succeed in other aspects of their lives. we love imperfect characters because they're more interesting anyway. no baek in this chapter, but you'll see him in the next one!