Jongin hated Mondays when he was in school mostly like every student that he knew did as well. After all, a day that started the nightmare that a full week of classes was had to be one of the worst things to ever exist however, now things were a little different.
Now, he hated Mondays and then he hated Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Sunday was supposed to be an off day, reserved to the pain caused by all the other days so what he could see as a resting day, was actually just another one to add to the torture.
Sometimes, when he entered that huge building, he still wondered if the fact that he was going to be in and out of there for a long time would make him get used to that characteristic smell; if he was ever going to be able to ignore it, but somehow, he had a feeling that time was only going to make it worse.
Two months after what happened, he already knew how to wheel around the hospital's corridors as if that place was his second house. In a way it was, and he hated it.
His father made sure he got to the hospital in time, as he always did – twenty minutes before the scheduled time, even – because he knew just how much of a hassle it was to unfold the wheelchair and picking him up to help him sit on it. It was his own father and even so he was so embarrassed that he just wished he could dig up a hole, throw himself inside and never come out.
The rehab sessions were a pain – quite literally – but days when the therapist didn't ask him to try and move his legs and just did it for him were the best. It still hurt, but at least the massages felt good.
He wheeled through the corridor after the two hour session was over, slow and lazily because he did have to move a little and he was so numb from the effort that he just wanted to sleep – or jump off a bridge, that was a possibility as well.
He decided to wait outside just like his father told him to; 'why don't you go to the garden for a moment' his father told him 'try to relax a little... it's pretty” he said and Jongin nodded, simply because if he stayed inside for another minute, he'd suffocate. So he went on his way, still slow and lazy, squinting his eyes at the change from the darker interior to the bright light from the sun. He looked around, picking a spot that was empty, trying to avoid people to even want to come talk to him and stood there, rearranging the small blanket draped over his useless legs and waiting for that little peace and quiet that he seemed to have lost along with everything else.