shelter ;

It’s Doyoung’s house and yet he’s late. Sanghoon watches the nanny rush the boy in, bowing profusely in an apology that Sanghoon doesn’t need. He stays seated in the armchair, a thought coming to mind. The past couple of times they’ve met, Doyoung has been accompanied by either his nanny or his father’s assistant? Advisor? Sanghoon’s curiosity is at its peak and he has a question for the older woman. Who wrings her hands together after he’s asked her to stay for a moment, letting Doyoung poke at the chessboard on the table with his own curious hands.

“Where is his mother?” Sanghoon asks quietly. And why do you look terrified? 

The nanny wrings her hands together again, she never stops tugging on her fingers, actually, something Sanghoon notices as he waits for an answer. She looks worried, maybe she doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and give off the wrong impression. She shouldn’t worry though, he would never make an assumption about someone without looking into their eyes. Sanghoon hasn’t met Doyoung’s mother yet. 

“She went shopping, she’s typically home in time for dinner, don’t misunderstand, Mrs. Lim is a good mother, she’s just —“ 

“I never said anything about her being a bad mother.” Watching this old woman worry herself over her choice of words amuses him, he quickly feels pity for her and holds out a hand, please stop. Her stammering to clean up whatever she was implying isn’t needed. Shopping isn’t a crime, stealing is. She walks over to Doyoung and smooths her hand over his inky hair. “I’ll come back to fetch you when you’re done, Doyoung-ah.” The boy more or less ignores her, the subtle nod of his head the only giveaway that he heard her. 

— 

“Have you ever seen one of these before?” Sanghoon asks once they’re alone again, the boy has moved pieces around a little and Sanghoon scoots them back in place as he waits for Doyoung’s answer. “It’s called a chess board, chess is a fun game. I think I might have been your age when my grandfather taught me how to play.” Days in the hospital felt so long until the familiar face with the creases in his eyes would pop in and make a young Sanghoon’s day more bearable. They would play until visiting hours were over and grandpa would promise to come around the home more often once Sanghoon was discharged. “Would you like me to teach you?” 

Doyoung nods. Sanghoon makes a mental note to write down the lack of verbalization he has. Doyoung can talk, Doyoung can use his words, Sanghoon knows that, he’s heard the boy speak; only when he absolutely has to, the doctor has noticed. Every time they meet Sanghoon notices something new when it comes to the young boy. Today he learns that he’s an incredibly fast learner, getting the grasp on chess fairly quickly. 

“You know… the more you play, the better you’ll get and you’ll win,” Sanghoon says after moving his Pawn, he’s taking it easy on the boy. Who lights up at the mention of ‘winning.’ Interesting. 

“Do you like winning, Doyoung?” 

Doyoung nods eagerly, sitting up a little bit straighter. They continue to play, Sanghoon teaching Doyoung tips and tricks he’s learned over the years. It’s down to Sanghoon’s Rook to Doyoung’s King. Sanghoon doesn’t take mercy on the novice players at the park, losing is the only way you can learn to play better in his mind. Sanghoon doesn’t take who he’s dealing with into account when he traps the King at the edge of the board, easily getting a checkmate and winning. Grinning to himself he sits back in his seat. 

“Checkmate.” 

Doyoung blinks owlishly at Sanghoon, a pink coloring his cheeks as he looks at the King piece on it’s side. “I lost?” 

Sanghoon nods, opening his mouth to speak, he wants to tell Sanghoon it’s okay, that he’s still learning. He also lost the first game of chess he ever played, that practice makes you a better player. He doesn’t get that chance though.

Doyoung screams, catching Sanghoon off guard as he flips the table between them, sending chess pieces flying, gaining the attention of the people outside the room. The Advisor barges in, staring between a sitting yet perplexed Sanghoon and a standing, livid Doyoung who lunges at the psychiatrist, launching into his lap he attempts to wrap his hands around Sanghoon’s neck, the colliding force against his adam’s apple makes him cough in pain as his mind catches up to what’s happening. 

The Advisor snatches a kicking and screaming Doyoung, Sanghoon coughing as he tries to catch his breath. Doyoung is a very sore loser and Sanghoon reaches for his pen, jotting down what transpired with a trembling hand. He’s never been strangled before, and he’s spoken to prisoners who have done worse to people, the glass wall a transparent protector as Sanghoon interviewed them for his research while he was in school. 

Sanghoon isn’t afraid of Doyoung, this is only the beginning. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” He insists, motioning for The Advisor to put a squirming Doyoung down. “He’s not going to hurt me, are you Doyoung?” Sanghoon asks in a controlled voice, keeping eye contact with the boy. Whether it’s a lie or not, Doyoung nods and The Advisor puts him down slowly, getting on his knees he takes the boy’s arms, “why did you do that?!” He scolds, shaking him with his words. Sanghoon realizes he needs to remember this as vividly as he can for his notes. This session was far from a breakthrough, Sanghoon isn’t a quitter though. A simple scolding isn’t going to stop Doyoung from hurting people and Sanghoon wants to say that but he stays mum until the boy has been ushered away. They still had twenty minutes left in the session but he won’t mention that. Sanghoon also notices that The Advisor never instructed Doyoung to apologize to him. Which isn’t needed but it’s interesting enough to the doctor to keep note.

“I am so sorry,” The Advisor implores as Sanghoon cleans up. He lets out a short laugh as he stands up straight, looking at the other. “It’s fine. The chess set is cheap, don’t worry.” That wasn’t what he was referring to and Sanghoon lets out another laugh. “Oh, Doyoung? Well, isn’t that what I’m here for?” 

‘Better me than his sister’ Sanghoon thinks darkly. 

“You don’t understand… you’re the third person we’ve had to come try and fix him.” The Advisor admits shamefully. 

Being left in the dark about things is something Sanghoon is learning to expect when he’s there. This is something they should have told him weeks ago, this is something his boss should have told him when he called him about this case. 

“You’re our last hope, his parents have been looking at behavioral centers overseas, there is a program for kids in America they’ve been eyeing ‒” 

“I never said I was quitting.” Sanghoon cuts in, taking in the way relief washes over The Advisor. 

“Thank you, Doctor. We truly appreciate you trying to help little Doyoung, he was such a sweet baby, we don’t know what happened…” 

“Do you think it’s my fault?” 

If the voice startled Sanghoon, he doesn’t give any indication. Continuing to put his things away in his bag, the session with Doyoung just needed and the little boy was taken off to play or eat, Sanghoon tries not to think about Doyoung once their time is up for the day, it’s how he comes down. “Pardon?” Sanghoon knows what the other man is referring to, he just wants to hear what he has to say. 

Sanghoon stands up straight, he takes in the shame in Youngsik’s posture, keeps his face neutral. This happens more than Sanghoon would like to admit: people just assume they can get free therapy by striking conversation with him after they’ve found out his profession. Sanghoon is curious, kids like Doyoung with his… temperament are typically born that way but environment can play a hand, this new insight into the people who help mold him whether they realize it or not? Very valuable to Sanghoon.

“…Doyoung’s mother and I fought a lot more than I would like to admit while she carried him, she hated me, and with good reason. Do… Do you think that caused him to be this way?” 

Sanghoon blinks, this is a tightrope he’s teetering on, Sanghoon doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, making a precious situation even more damaged. It’s a question he expects from a parent, nature versus nurture and the pesky thing called genetics. Sanghoon’s eyes glance down at the piece of paper in Youngsik’s hand, he just put it there moments before he asked the doctor for his opinion. Sanghoon makes a mental note to write this down, everything he can learn about Doyoung’s parents the better. 

“I don’t know yet.” Sanghoon answers honestly, he’s not going to lie to this man. He takes the look of disappointment in stride, he understands, they want instant answers when that’s what they’re used to but this isn’t an ordinary situation. He shifts the weight from foot to foot, adjusting the hold on his briefcase, he was supposed to be gone ten minutes ago. Sanghoon gathers his thoughts, he can’t just say anything. Youngsik is being very human with him right now. Gone is the powerful and secretive CEO who wants this done in the shadows, Sanghoon has a perfectly good office he could talk to Doyoung in, with a couch and all the board games and other material Sanghoon uses with children yet he’s making this trip daily to come to his home (if that’s what you would call it, so cold - Sanghoon could visit his parents if he wanted to freeze.)

“Doyoung is an incredibly bright boy. I think lithium will help, we’ll monitor his blood, keep an eye out for tremors. How’s your daughter doing now?” 

Youngsik sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s better, the nanny said her stitches have dissolved just about but they haven’t been in the same room at the same time since… the incident. I don’t want her growing up scared of men ‒”

The conversation is cut short by The Advisor’s arrival, pausing in the doorway, he glances between the two men. “I’m so sorry Sajangnim ‒” he begins to bow deeply, Youngsik motioning him to stop. “My meeting is soon, I didn’t forget. I’m glad you’re here though.” Youngsik hands over the prescription. “This needs to be filled, let them know this needs to be done in a timely manner.” He turns to look at Sanghoon once again. 

“You’re dismissed, both of you.” 

Sanghoon can’t recall what he was dreaming about as the shrill chime of his work phone rouses him awake instead of the gentle ring of his alarm. Bleary eyed he blinks as he stumbles around his bedroom in search of the current bane of his existence. It’s tucked in the front pocket of his briefcase left on the couch in the living room. Three missed calls and a fourth currently ringing, Sanghoon sighs, steeling himself, feeling very awake now. “Hello,” he greets in what he calls his ‘phone voice.’ 

“It’s about the boy.” 

Sanghoon pulls up to the gate, “I was told you would be made aware of my arrival?” he says as he rolls his window down, waiting for the security guard to let him onto the property, rain drops run down the man’s jacket, the familiar logo on his chest catches Sanghoon’s eye, reminding the psychiatrist how important it is that he does not fuck this up. 

It’s only the second time he’s been here but he knows the routine. A generous pat down for anything he can use to record his time in the home. “What happened to romance, huh?” he teases as he watches the security guard run his hands up Sanghoon’s thigh, “don’t you at least want to get to know me first? What’s your sign?” His quiet laugh dies off as he clips on his visitor’s tag, the pocket of fun is over as the anticipation begins to kick in as he sees the advisor to his client’s father getting closer. 

“They want you to come more often starting today,” he explains in a hushed tone as they walk down the long hallway to the room where Sanghoon met the boy for the first time last week. “Once a week won’t be enough, I fear.” Sanghoon nods as he looks around, at the frames that decorate the walls, exquisite art adorn the walls trinkled in with subtle reminders that a family does live here and he’s not visiting a museum. After what feels like forever, they come to a stop at the door. 

“Did something ‒” Sanghoon’s question is cut off at the faint sound of a child crying, The Advisor's eyes slip closed, Sanghoon thinks the man is praying as he waits for an answer. “They want you to come and help him every day,” The Advisor finally admits as he retrieves a key from his pocket, unlocking the door, Sanghoon puts his hand over his to stop him from twisting the knob, he doesn’t care if the noise catches the interest of the little boy, he’ll deal with him in moment. “I didn’t agree to daily check-ins, I have other clients to help.” Sanghoon explains. He was already apprehensive about doing these home visits in the first place, The Advisor’s previous bullshit he spewed was that the family didn’t want it to get out that the boy needed help so Sanghoon had to drive out of his way to this spiraling estate. They want him to make this trip every day? 

“You’ll be compensated for travel, Sajang-nim also said travel arrangements could be set in place to insure your timely arrival. This has already been discussed with your office, they’re dispersing your clients to your colleagues ‒” 

“No, you’re joking. Are you kidding me?” Sanghoon drops his hand and turns, putting some distance between them as he shoves his hand down his pocket to get his phone, putting it to his ear after dialing. He taps in the extension quickly when prompted and he doesn’t wait once he’s heard the call picked up. 

“You’re renting me out?” He hisses in a greeting to his boss. 

“They woke me up as well, Doctor.” His boss replies in his own weary tone before yawning. 

“It’s Sunday‒” 

“Sanghoon, do your job, stop thinking about yourself and do your job.” 

His boss hangs up, Sanghoon stands there with his phone to his ear for a beat before walking back over to The Advisor after putting his phone up once more. A look is shared and Sanghoon decides to compartmentalize everything he feels from this moment on. He has a job to do. 

“So…” Sanghoon readjusts his hold on his briefcase as he mentally prepares. 

“What did Doyoung do?”

                                                       ‒

Sanghoon stares at Doyoung who's engrossed in the coloring he's doing right now. Sangcheol is only a little bit younger than this kid and he can't fathom the idea of his nephew doing the things this kid has done in his short time on earth. Sanghoon hasn't written much down yet, just notes on the boy's body language and what he can see from the paper he's drawing. 

"Do you know why I'm here again?" Sanghoon asks, finally breaking the silence between them, Doyoung doesn't look up, continuing to passionately scribble with the red crayon. "Do you remember me?" He tries and if Sanghoon was less diligent he would have missed the nod of the little boy's head.

Progress?

"You asked me a lot of questions..." the little boy replies as he colors. "I didn't like it." 

"I'm just doing my job, Doyoung. Your parents asked me to come and talk to you, they want the best for you.”

It says something when you're willing to go above and beyond for your child, they care or they would have shipped Doyoung off to boarding school in Europe and made him someone else's problem, he's supposed to lead the company one day and they want his behavior to improve before it escalates and the empire his father's father meticulously crafted falls to ashes. 

"Why?"

Sanghoon jots something down and sits up in his seat. 

"Doyoung, let's talk about what happened early this morning, would you like to tell me about what happened with your sister? I heard her crying in the hallway earlier." 

Sanghoon’s words must register in Doyoung’s mind, the scratching of the color pencil suddenly stops and the little boy looks up at Sanghoon. 

Doyoung has the darkest eyes Sanghoon has ever seen. An onyx that dampens out any light that might shine. 

“I told her not to touch my stuff.” 

Sanghoon nods, hand moving furiously as he writes. There is a stark contrast in the sound of Doyoung’s voice and the look in his eyes, the young boy speaks as if he’s done nothing wrong, no guilty lilt to his voice. “Doyoung, you know Jiyeong is younger than you, she’s still learning boundaries, do you think she just wanted to play?” 

“I didn’t wanna play, I told her to leave me alone, she never listens to me ‒”

The pencil in Doyoung’s hand snaps in half and they stare at each other. Sanghoon refuses to blink first, the only way he thinks he can get to this kid is to show him he isn’t afraid of him. 

“Do you feel bad for hurting your sister? These floors are hard, Doyoung.”