Sorry for the late update! Do expect another soon! (: 

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The few days after Minseok's most severe argument with his mother were filled with silence. He was still furious with her, and she was too afraid to speak with him. Their busy schedules aided in separating them, and erased any footprints of one purposely avoiding the other.

Of course, Mrs. Kim continued to keep an eye on her son, whether he noticed or not. Even if he wished she didn't, he could not stop her from doing so. It proved to be difficult with Minseok rising at dawn and leaving for school long before she stirred awake. He returned early as well, locking himself in his room and not daring to take a step out. Mrs. Kim would return home to a silent house, eat dinner by herself, and climb into bed, feeling as if she lived alone, but knowing she didn't.

After days turned to weeks, she resorted to preparing Minseok's breakfast and school lunch in the evenings, setting it out on the kitchen table in hopes of her son seeing it in the morning. During her lunch break, she'd rush home to whip up a quick meal for Minseok to return to after school. Sometimes the food were untouched, and sometimes the empty dishes were back in their rightful places.

But that wasn't enough for the aging woman. The too few glimpses she caught of her son frightened her. Minseok had definitely lost some weight. His sleeves were too loose, along with his jeans, and she had never seen such sharp cheekbones. Mrs. Kim could not let this go on any longer. How could a mother and son live like this, avoiding each other and fearing each other? This wasn't right.

But what should she do? How can she help her son if he didn't want to be helped?

The first person she could think of was Minseok's doctor. Maybe the doctor could read some of Minseok's signs as a disorder, and hopefully suggest solutions.

A phone call took place a few hours later, when her call finally reached the doctor's office, and they arranged a meeting in two days.

On the morning they agreed to meet, Mrs. Kim caught her son bustling through the living room, sifting through old mail and papers on the shelves.

“Minseok-ah? What are you looking for, dear?” He might have found what he had been looking for, for he snatched a small sheet of notebook paper between a stack of folders, eyes glazing over the words printed.

The teen snapped his neck in her direction, eyes wide and his lips parted. Surprise jolted through his mother, but she hid it well by swallowing her gasp. How pale he was! As if he had seen a ghost, or as if he was terribly sick! She itched to reach forward and feel his forehead. In this condition, he shouldn't even attend school!

Minseok straightened himself and shook his head. He crumpled the paper, shoved it into his pocket, and left the house without looking at his mother and speaking a word.

Mrs. Kim sported a grim expression on her way to the hospital, clutching her purse close to her ribs. Her platform heels clicked softly against the linoleum floor, florescent lights flickering above her head. The nurse guiding her to the doctor's office knocked on the wooden door.

“Come in,” a female voice called, muffled behind the block of wood. Mrs. Kim entered. “Eunkyung-ssi, it's good to see you again. How are you?”

“I'm doing fine, thank you.” She took a seat on a cushioned chair, smoothing out her skirt and hair to look presentable in front of the person with the answers to her son's behavior.

“Are you sure? It looks like you haven't been getting much sleep.”

“That's what I'm here to talk to you about, Dr. Jo. It has to do with Minseok-ah.”

The doctor leaned forward, placing her arms on the desk. “Minseok-ah? Is there something wrong with him? If you would like to schedule a physical che--”

“No, thank you, Dr. Jo. I don't think this is something physical.”

Mrs. Kim reported the symptoms she observed from her son: the periods of his refusals to eat (even if she substituted ingredients with healthier choices) that were followed by the overnight disappearances of large amounts of food, the addition of a scale in the hallway bathroom, and Minseok's sudden change in fashion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“He's completely changed his wardrobe! All of his favorite summer t-shirts and shorts were boxed and tossed into the attic. He's taken a liking for beanies and hoodies. It's like he's trying to dress invisible. I don't understand.

“And just this morning, he was searching for a piece of paper in the living room. You don't know how he looked, Dr. Jo, as if he hadn't eaten or slept in days. Yet he had the energy to search for that little paper... His eyes were bloodshot, crazed! I didn't know what to do. I was frightened, to be honest. Why is that paper so important to him? What do you think is wrong with him?”

“Eunkyung-ssi, this isn't really in my range of knowledge. These types of problems you're concerned with should be gone over with a psychologist, not a doctor,” said Dr. Jo, eyebrows knitted behind her reading glasses. She thumbed through the files of Kim Minseok on her desk, then shook her head. “It looks like he has an eating disorder, but I'm not positive. I'm sorry I can't help you much further.”

Mrs. Kim bit her knuckle. What was she to do now? If a doctor can't help her, than who can? She couldn't afford to see a psychologist, let alone pay for Minseok to have sessions with one. Tears began to well up again, and she blew her nose in the tissue the doctor offered before.

“Is there really nothing you can do? No prescriptions?”

Dr. Jo's frown deepened. “If you're suggesting that I give Minseok anti-depressant drugs, Eunkyung-ssi, then I can't do that. I will remind you that it is not my job to cure mental disorders. I also don't think giving your son drugs will solve the problem either. This is a serious matter that I believe needs the appropriate treatment. He needs to see a psychologist, please. I am worried as well.”

When Mrs. Kim didn't answer, the doctor rubbed her temples, releasing a drawn-out sigh. “I think I may know someone who can help you. Let me find his contact information.”

Several minutes afterwards, Dr. Jo was seeing Mrs. Kim out as the latter woman continuously thanked her. “Thank you, Dr. Jo! Thank you so much! I don't know how I could ever repay you...”

“Just tell me when Minseok gets better. You're doing the right thing, Eunkyung-ssi.”

When Mrs. Kim arrived home, the first thing she did was give the person the doctor recommended a call. The clock read one in the afternoon, so Minseok was still in school. She had enough time to speak with this person before he comes home. She must not let Minseok find out just yet. He would disagree and possibly throw a fit.

“Hello? Park Jiwon speaking.”

“Hello, Dr. Park. My name is Kim Eunkyung. Dr. Jo recommended you to me to speak about a problem regarding my son, Minseok. She believes Minseok might have an eating disorder.”

“Ah, then you've come to the right person, Eunkyung-ssi. Let's make an appointment for you two to come in and...”

“If you don't mind, Dr. Park, may I come alone? My son doesn't know about this; I haven't told him yet.”

“I see. Very well then, we will discuss that in person. Are you free next week? I'm available at eleven in the morning.”

***

Jongdae greeted his best friend's mother, complimenting her new hairstyle. “What's the occasion, Mrs. Kim? Are you going on a date?” He winked, kindling a laugh from the older woman. She shook her head “No” and offered him a seat on the couch.

“Do you mind sparing a few minutes of your time, Jongdae? There's something I would like to talk to you about.”

Jongdae didn't sense the nerves radiating from her. “Sure, Mrs. Kim! Minseok's still sleeping, right? A few more minutes wouldn't hurt. He likes to sleep in anyways.” Then, finally catching a few nervous movements, he asked, “What's wrong?”

Mrs. Kim exhaled a deep breath before locking eyes with her son's best friend.

The few minutes she asked for turned into an hour, and Jongdae was shaking by the end of her confrontation.

“Mrs. Kim, you're saying that Minseok has an eating disorder?”

“Yes. I know it's hard to believe, but I've been watching him for awhile now.”

“Why do you say that all of a sudden?” She blinked, not quite understanding where this was coming from. “You just noticed this now? I've realized he has a problem months ago. From the first time he refused to eat to the times he broke down because of the hurtful words your friends threw at him.

“And not only was he affected by them, but he was struggling—still is, actually—with low self-esteem issues. Don't,” he paused to breathe, features scrunched, “please, don't tell me you only noticed that now.”

Mrs. Kim shook her head, slamming her fists onto the table. “No, of course not! He's my baby, Jongdae. My only baby. How could I not see it in the first place? Do you think I like sitting by, watching my friends insult him? No! And I didn't stand by and watch either, I shut them up.”

“But they still hurt him,” Jongdae whispered, anger boiling at the tip of his control. “And he won't forget what they said, not for a long time, Mrs. Kim.”

“I know. That's why I need your help, Jongdae.” She retrieved the folder of information Jiwon gave her from her purse and spread them out before the frustrated teen. “I talked to a therapist that can help Minseok. His name is Park Jiwon and he has a masters degree in psychology, as well as other subjects. Not only that, he has experience with other people who had the same problem as Minseok.”

Jongdae wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You're sending Minseok to a psychiatric hospital?!”

“Jongdae!”

“Then what is it? Sticking him in a foreign place, forcing him to talk about his problems when he doesn't want to while they put him on medications to give him the illusion of being happy... That's throwing him in a place where people will treat him as a crazy person!”

“Take a look, Jongdae.” Mrs. Kim handed him a brochure. “This isn't a psychiatric hospital. This is a support group. They can help him here, Minseok. They can give him what he needs, the proper treatment.”

“And you believe this Park Jiwon guy can really help Minseok?”

“I do,” she answered softly, grasping one of Jongdae's palms. “I can't do anything at the moment. He is upset with me. He won't speak to me or even look at me at all. I'm lost. There's nothing else I can do right now. But I'm not going to stand by and watch my son kill himself. This person says he can help, so I'm going to give him a chance. It's the last option I have, Jongdae. Please understand that.”

“I can help him,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I'm Minseok's best friend. That's what I've been doing all this time. I know how to make him feel better. It's my job.”

“And it's my job as his mother to do what I believe is best for him.”

“Mrs. Kim. Please don't send him there. I know what he'll say. He won't like it. He'll be even angrier. Just leave it to me. I promise I'll try to do what I can to help him. Just—please, don't do this.”

“I know you think I'm taking away your best friend, but...”

“Give me a month. One month, that's all I'm asking. If he doesn't get better by then, then I'll help you convince him to attend group.”

Mrs. Kim took Jongdae's words into consideration. She watched his facial expression as he struggled to keep himself composed. He's living with the fact that his best friend has an eating disorder, and he can't do much to help him. Poor boy. Look at how his hands are shaking.

She knew how much Jongdae cares for Minseok. She has seen them together. And the Minseok around Jongdae is the Minseok she wanted back. Perhaps Jongdae could heal him. There was only way to find out.

“I'll give the therapist another call and put our arrangement on hold. One month, Kim Jongdae, that's it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kim!” Jongdae pulled his vibrating cellphone out of his pocket. “That's Minseok wondering where I am. You won't regret this, I promise!”

“Take care of him well, Jongdae.”

“I will. I won't let you down.”