kim joon goo x male!reader
in which where goo is given a mission to be his best friend's wingman, except-with his newfound feelings, he purposely does a bad job at it.
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CHAPTER ZERO, PROLOGUE the woeful blues of a lonely rich kid
"How have you been feeling, M/n?"
Lowered relaxing classic music played in the background inside the spacious room with minimal design and furniture, in the center of the room are two individual sofas facing one another with a small rectangular glass table in between.
The most notable feature had to be the entire view overlooking the big city, the second being the discrete amount of living plants found in one setting.
"I've been feeling blue lately." The client in question admitted with a very distinct frown, his figure laid comfortably sprawled across the sofa like a makeshift bed.
The music in the background felt more somber than relaxing to M/n's vibe.
"How so?" His therapist questioned patiently, tilting her round frames down to glance at the boy graced with casualness.
"Lately, I've been feeling awfully lonely." His tone was dramatic, adding flour to his antics despite the supposed serious situation.
"You don't suppose it's because of your family's busy schedules?"
M/n scoffed at that, "I don't feel any lacking with my familial relationships at all!" He exclaimed. "Mom pampers me too much like a little child and Dad keeps on pestering me about bonding in golf or joining him and his friends for a yacht trip or something." He sighs heavily, shaking his head at his rant.
The furrow on his brows were unmistakable, his ramble being far too genuine.
"Seriously, they're too doting. "
That wasn't something one should usually complain about in therapy sessions but the therapist didn't bother to comment on it. As anyone could see, her client was a special case.
He wasn't exactly troubled with serious problems— he just needs someone to explain his worries for him and present solutions he doesn't bother thinking about on his own.
This was a pretty common scenario for rich people, M/n being no exception; rather a prime example.
"Then what poses for your loneliness, M/n?"
The male paused to ponder, eyes shifting towards the table where he sees two cactuses placed together like a pair.
"I'm afraid I awfully crave physical affection."
His therapist arched a brow at this before letting him continue.
"Sometimes, I have to hold my own hand just to quench the terrible gut-wrenching feeling."
His dramatic tone made it difficult for her to truly take him seriously but she tried nonetheless, after all, his parents were paying her generously to endure his flare of eccentricity.
"You're, what most teenagers call nowadays, 'touch-starved'." She gave him the term.
He paused and thought about it before eventually nodding. "I suppose," he agreed.
"What else has been bothering you?"
His eyes darted towards the cactuses with narrowed eyes.
"Those damn plants. It's like they're staring at me mockingly."
Her eyes followed his gaze and unironically saw the two cactuses of her decoration that came in as a pair with linked pots in complimentary colors.
"I see. . ."
"And. . . And sometimes, I sit in my private jet and think about how I wish I had someone to talk to intimately." He ducked his head backwards with the back of his hand placed against his brow like a damsel in distress. "Most days, I even stare at my Breguet No. 160 and think about how I wish I had someone to spend time with."
Her sweat dropped at this.
"Oh." She glanced down at her clipboard, writing nonsensical notes just for the aesthetics despite knowing exactly what case he was suffering from. "It sounds to me you are certainly lonely."
"Tell me about it." He shook his head.
With the butt of her pen tapping against her chin, her round eyes stared curiously at the male.
"M/n, have you ever considered taking in a romantic partner?"
