#dy1.

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.”