Part III (585 words)
The Proposition

“This is Dr. Kim,” the familiar voice begins from the other line. “Is Lee Taemin-sshi available?”

Taemin bites his lips nervously, worrying the soft flesh there. “This is he.” He pauses for a second, contemplative; he was sure he told Kibum that he was not going back—had Gwiboon misunderstood? “Look, Dr. Kim, I—”

“I’m aware that you won’t be scheduling another session,” Gwiboon cuts him off, reading his concern plainly although they were not even face to face. There is a hint of a smile in her voice, which throws Taemin off guard. “I am actually calling for a different matter.”

She takes Taemin’s stunned silence as a signal to continue. “I realize that maybe psychiatric help isn’t for everyone, but Kibum sounded very worried when he asked me for that favor… so I want to refer you to a good associate of mine who I think will be able to help you.”

Irritation sparks inside Taemin. “Look, I don’t need another doctor. I’m perfectly fin—”

“He’s not a doctor,” she adds hastily. “He’s a retired therapist, but he is extremely good at what he does.”

Silence stretches as Taemin contemplates the suggestion. He remembers Kibum’s concerned expression, those pleading eyes that just wanted the best for him; and if Taemin was truthful to himself, he wanted to get over this fear as well. He would not be able to live with himself if Kibum, or anyone for that matter, had to witness him breakdown again.

What if it happened another time? What would he do then? He shuddered at the thought.

With a resigned sigh, he inquires, “If he’s retired, what will he do exactly? And how do I know that seeing him will help me?”

Gwiboon does not say anything at first, a thoughtful hum echoing through the receiver. Then she finally replies, “I know we just met Taemin-sshi, but… trust me on this, just this once.”

After hanging up the phone, Taemin stares at the piece of paper containing the retired therapist’s number, twirling the slip in his hands with unwavering concentration as he read the name over and over—Lee Jinki. He was debating whether or not he should call at all, if taking this step would cure the fear he had been living with for almost a decade now. It was a constant presence in his mind, haunting him every time night fell, and ever since his session with Gwiboon, he found this part inside him that desperately wanted it gone.

“You’ve been staring at that paper forever,” Kibum suddenly says, breaking Taemin’s concentration; the younger looks up, expression mimicking a deer in headlights.

“Huh?” He had not even realized it.

Kibum smiles knowingly. “What is it?—a cute guy’s phone number?”

He watches curiously as Taemin crushes the paper tightly in his hands, the younger turning bright red at the comment. “Hyung!” he whines. When Kibum’s expectant expression does not falter, Taemin adds quietly, “It’s nothing. Really.”

At that, Kibum’s face falls, but before he can say anything more, the chime signaling the door had been opened reminded the two that they were still at work, and they both look up to see a customer entering Taemin’s café. The two of them exchange a quick glance, deciding who would go—Taemin volunteers first, and as he heads over to tend to the customer, he slips the crumpled paper in his back pocket, mentally reminding himself to call the number later.

No harm in trying, he reasons.