The white walls of the room surrounding him seemed to slowly crack, as if it were to crumble down on him as he heard the hushed whispers from behind the door. His mother's voice was clear and he heard every single word while his doctor's voice was just filled with disappointment. He wasn't sure whether he was disappointed in him or his mother. He thought it could be both.

He flinched as his mother came into the room, eyes sending daggers to his thinner frame. He felt the room going hot in a second or maybe it was just his mind playing. He felt small, belittled when his doctor came inside and said, "Well, Jongin... Your mother thinks you don't need my help. What do you think?"

His lips quivered, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. After all, what could he say? He muted himself for the past month and only talked by stamping post-it notes on walls for his mother to read which she never did. It all ended up in the same place everyday, the dustbin.

She looked at the teenager in front of her then towards the elder man, "He won't talk to me, what makes you think he'll talk to you?" She yanked the younger's hand and said, "Come on, we're leaving this place!"

He struggled under the grip, his eyes portrayed of horror and terrified. He looked over to the elder man and hoped for some sort of aid, the elder shook his head as he mouthed a sorry and that there was nothing he could do because she was his legal parent and guardian.

The latter stopped wriggling as the grip on his wrist loosened, he took the chance and ran back to the doctor, hugging him as he whispered, "Thank you, Dr. Lee."

The elder smiled as he patted the younger's head, "You have my number. If it ever comes back, you can call me."

"Jongin!" his mother yelled, he looked at the doctor once more before he slowly walked back to his mother's side. A string of curses escaped his mother's small, plump lips. His head hung low, too scared to even dare to look up at her. Ever since his father left, his mother became more rougher at the edges but Jongin never really told anybody about it, besides Sehun.

The ride in the car was quiet for the early five minutes until his mother asked, "Do you want to talk about it, Jongin?"

He looked at her then to his thighs and the fingers that were tracing lines on them, he shook his head. "Why, dear?" she asked yet there was a hint of anger and coldness wrapped around it.

He doesn't answer and shook his head, only this time with a shrug. His mother sighed, "Well, okay, Jongin. If you need time, I'll give you time."

That's the last thing that I want right now, he thought. His mother continued her chatter, "I'm going to enroll you in a new school, okay? So, you can get new friends, a fresh start and new environment."

His eyes rounded as he looked at her, shaking his head vigorously. The elder lady raised a brow, "Jongin, you know I'm doing this all for you. You're only feeling lonely, that's why you're being this way. Maybe a fresh start could bring out something in you."

Dad never made me feel lonely, Sehun never made me feel lonely. Only you do. He wanted to say that so bad but he wouldn't want to know what the outcome would or could be. He shrugged his shoulders once more as his head hung low. All he need is Sehun but he is not there anymore, gone. Not for a little while, not for a short time but forever and time is starting to become his enemy.

"The new school is really good, I've seen it and the kids are all so friendly and warm. You could get along fine," she said with confidence, but none of that convinced the son of hers. He shrugged once more before he looked at the stowage and saw a piece of receipt with a pen.

He took it and leaned forward as he placed it on the dashboard, hoping to write on the smooth surface so his writing won't come out too ugly for his mother to read. He placed the cap back on the pen and showed the receipt to his mother, she turned to look then continued driving.

Five minutes passed, not a word. Ten minutes passed, not even a glance. They arrived home, not even a look. He regretted his decision of writing it down now.

His mother called him out for dinner, walking out of his room half-heartedly; he sat at his respective place, at the end of the table. She asked, "Why so far away? Come closer, dear."

He flinched, he really didn't like it whenever his mother started using dear, sweet heart or pumpkin. It just didn't fit her. She was never the type to spoil you, never the type to read bedtime stories nor was she the type to kiss your boo-boos.

He walked over and changed seats, sitting at the middle part of the table. He didn't want to be too close with his mother when she had her cigarette in between her fingers. The smell reeked the whole house at times when she had a bad day or when she was stressed. That night when his father left, that was the night his life changed and turned upside down.

Back when he was small, he'd get spanked if he was in trouble or if he accidentally broke a plate. He thought it was normal and it was to make him behave, but then it was growing worse. He would get a time out and not receive snacks when his homeroom teacher called and asked about the bruises on his back. There were even days where he was locked up in his room and wasn't allowed to come out until she said it was okay. Those days were the worst ones because he had to pee in the bottles and he didn't get to eat.

His mother threw away the cigarette in the ashtray and asked, "Why are you like this, Jongin?"

He shrugged as he picked on his food, it was pasta and it looked half-cooked. She looked at him and sighed, "Why aren't you eating? You're already thin, I could snap you like a twig." He blinked his eyes, his body shuddered at the last remark. With a heavy heart, he took a forkful of the dreaded pasta and shoved it down his mouth.

The woman smiled before she said, "You'll be in your new school by next week so you can have this whole week off while I clear out your old school data. Maybe you can go say goodbye to your old friends whenever they're free."

He nodded his head, he wanted to throw up. Not because of the food, but because he really wanted to. Now, his life will really be a living hell.

author's note:

hello my dear delights! yes, i shall call my readers as delight from now on because my u/n depicts of happiness & delight. (/shot.) i'm really sorry that this took a whole ing lot late than i promised. ugh. i feel so bad that it's so short and so lame. ; ; i promise to get back at you, real soon. ㅡ lana. Xx