“Indeed, I do have an internship - it’s quite the trauma,” he smiled, running fingers through his hair in an effort to cool down. As Jongdae regarded Jongin, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy was, well, elsewhere. He would pause, and his underlying threats screamed ‘fear me fear me’ - perhaps Jongdae ought to fear him. It was slightly unnerving. He just came out of therapy, what did I expect? For him to be completely sound of mind? It’s not as if I’m perfect - whatever’s wrong with him, he probably doesn’t sprout feathers at the first sign of danger. It almost made Jongdae laugh, that he could be the judge of anyone, least of all this harmless boy.
“Passed a test? This ought to go on my resume, I hope the hospital accepts tests from strangers and/or patients,” he chuckled, rocking on his feet absently, dismissing all concerns as flippantly as Jongdae usually did. “I wouldn’t mind at all, there’s only so much enjoyment a man can get from staring at the walls and assisting the elderly patients to the bathrooms.”
He glanced around briefly before nodding to Jongin’s suggestion. Sunlight dappled the cemented ground with a green cast as two lines of tall trees over looked the street. It was not only lighter on the eyes, Jongdae was keen to keep in the comfort of the shade. Better not to send Jongin straight back into the hospital with dehydration or, as he suggested, sun stroke. He walked slowly beside his new companion, not entirely sure where exactly they were headed - he vaguely hoped it was somewhere that might sell sugary food.
“Oh, an accident? That’s lack-lusting, you ought to say something like ‘oh, I’m secretly an ice man’, like the one from Batman, you know? That would be much cooler than bleaching cream - which, by the way, be careful with that, it doesn’t sound healthy on your hair and if it got in your eyes, ah, that would burn,” he shook his head thoughtfully, watching his feet as he walked and talked until now, when he lifted his gaze again to look around idly.
“Therapist - I could never be one of those. I barely know how to order my own thoughts, let alone organise someone else’s. Oh no, I’m aspiring to be a ‘real’ doctor,” he held up two fingers, “twenty two - and you?”
