Daesung did not know how long he had been at the facility. He just knew that, outside his window, the leaves were starting to change color, and the air felt as cool and crisp as a stiff sea breeze.

And he felt that he had aged about a million years on the inside.

The other residents were nice enough. He had made a few friends, something he had not anticipated. Minah, a short girl with a fringe and intense, dark eyes, had made him a friendship bracelet during art therapy and had given it to him in Group. He had thanked her with sincere gratitude and, upon hearing the catch in his voice, she had searched his eyes intently with her own wide ones. Her dry hand curled around his and squeezed.

Daesung was ashamed to admit that he sometimes forgot why he was there in the first place. That was a big part of the Program: complete isolation. He was not to have any contact with the Boy Who Had Got Him in Trouble. Each resident enjoyed periods of relative solitude as well as forced bonding combined with occasional (read: routine; everyday; tedious) bouts of brainwashing. They got plenty of fresh air, also mandated by the Program.

And they weren’t to leave campus grounds without supervision.

Many of the designated chaperones were alumnae from the program. They carried an air of superiority that Jihun — a clever, suspicious boy in Daesung’s Group — resented and often railed against. 

“They act like it’s so damned easy,” he seethed. “But let me tell you something, Smiley. I don’t think there’s a quick fix at all. I think the Program is selling a snake oil cure, and our chaperones know it and they’re getting their cut.”

Daesung didn’t know what was so wrong with believing there was a cure. Didn’t Jihun want to get out someday? After all, they had signed a contract not to leave until they were better.

“That’s just it, Smiley,” said Jihun. “It’s a constant struggle of discipline. It will always be that way, and they know it. They’re just trying to cash in before our parents figure it out.”

But for all his talk, Jihun never made any efforts to escape. Late at night Daesung heard him murmuring and tossing fitfully in his sleep. In the moonlight that streamed through their window, his face was contorted with frustration. To his roommate, he sounded like he was praying. He knew that Jihun took the Program as seriously as everyone else in attendance, whether voluntary or coerced (but they were all minors, Daesung thought, looking around at all the grim and haggard faces in the mess hall at breakfast time).

And for all that the young man called him “Smiley,” since first entering the facility, Daesung had rarely smiled.

                                                                        *****

“They have beautiful, modern dormitories with balconies and a gorgeous lake view. And they have horseback riding lessons available as part of the therapy! Ooh, I forgot to mention that the whole place is surrounded by mountains for hiking. With chaperones, of course. Doesn’t that all sound like fun?”

Seunghyun shrugged. His mother’s incessant chattering was nothing new to him. She was a real estate agent, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to pitch ideas to him using her work voice. What was new, he noted, was the slightly higher tone she employed when she was nervous. Mama Choi didn’t want him to resent her, he thought derisively.

He had long ago gotten over his sulking and had resigned himself to attending what his parents called “sleepaway camp.” His father was uncomfortable with the whole situation and had excused himself from seeing his own son off by conveniently going away on business. So it was just Seunghyun in the car with his mother and her seemingly unending stream of one-way conversation.

“I don’t think those mountains are for hiking.”

“Sure they are. I saw kids on the cover of the brochure, climbing a mountain. Looked like they were having the time of their lives.”

“I think their secondary purpose is for hiking,” Seunghyun said, not missing a beat. “But they’re primarily for preventing residents from escaping. You called them ‘kids,’ but you might as well call them by their technical term: ‘residents.’ That's what I’ll be.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be there that long-”

“You have no idea,” he said flatly, and that was the end of the discussion. Mrs. Choi may be strong-willed, but Seunghyun took after her both in appearance and personality, and he was not going to back down. He knew he was right. She was abandoning him in his time of need, and he refused to make it any easier for her to forgive herself.

They continued the drive in silence. The scenery flashed by, blurred images of green foliage with autumn colors peeking through. A blue and white sign to the right of the road read “Quiet Waters Rehabilitation Facility: Exit 22.”

The knot of dread in the pit of his stomach — the knot that he had been pretending did not exist all week — expanded about three sizes. Seunghyun curled up on the passenger seat, trying to protect himself from imaginary blows. He groaned faintly.

Mrs. Choi informed him that there were antacid tablets in the glove compartment. Seunghyun only groaned louder.

                                                                        *****

Chair legs squealed against the floor as someone stretched. In the distance, a door slammed. Daesung shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Soojin was unsurprisingly late again.

Group therapy, known simply as “Group,” took place in a basement with concrete walls, dark corners, and high windows. Sunbeams streamed through the smeared glass, illuminating floating dust motes. Residents sat in a circle of orange plastic chairs that looked as though they had been removed from a middle school cafeteria. Many of them had gaping cracks covered with duct tape, and a few even had swear words scrawled across their backs. This was a side of the “camp” that wealthy parents and donors didn’t get to see.  

Minah sat on one side of him and Jihun, the other. On the first day she had watched him enter the room and had deliberately switched seats to get next to him. She could sense auras, she had told him, and his was special and warm, like champagne bubbles. Daesung had never tried champagne or any other alcoholic beverage in his life, but he knew a compliment when he heard one, and he had rewarded her with a small smile.

“Where is that woman,” Jihun hissed.

Soojin was Quiet Waters live-in therapist, notorious for being late as well as unorthodox in her practice methods. She often wore vegetable-shaped earrings, shared stories of her personal life, and discussed pop culture with her young charges — but never in a patronizing, forced, desperate-to-connect sort of way. For the most part, the residents genuinely liked her. There were rumors that seemed to generate among the staff that she would have been fired if the facility could find anyone else willing to live in the dorms as an on-call therapist.   

Luckily for Soojin, absolutely no established, respectable therapist wanted her job. And even though she was late to Group and staff meetings and meal times, she was never late in the event of an emergency, such as a suicide attempt: of which there had been two since Daesung had entered Quiet Waters. Hence the need for a therapist in the dorm, along with a fully equipped medical response team. Jihun wondered aloud if there were hidden cameras in the bathrooms.  

“Good morning!”

They heard her before they saw her. The door swung open – its unoiled hinges squeaking in protest – and a tall creature of a woman strode in, red leather heels clacking a rapid staccato beat across the floor and arms clutching a stack of notebooks with a disposable cup of tea perched precariously on top.

“Don’t be shy,” Soojin said. “Come on in. Everyone, please welcome Choi Seunghyun.”

A boy who was somehow taller than Soojin, even in heels, strode in. He did not look shy to Daesung. He walked with purpose, with his head held high and chest forward. There was a defiant glint in his eyes.

“Tell us about yourself, Seunghyun,” she said cheerfully, not even looking in his direction. She had snuck her tea cup onto her seat and was busy passing journals back to the residents, who immediately flipped them open to read her comments. That was all the prompting the boy seemed to need.

“Hello, my name is Choi Seunghyun,” he said. His voice was deep, like an aspiring politician’s. He looked around the room, eyes piercing even in the dimly lit room. “I am from Seoul. I prefer the city. I look forward to getting back as soon as possible. Thank you.”

“Hold on, don’t you have any interests? Hobbies? What kind of music do you like?” Soojin asked as Seunghyun started to sit down.

“Rap,” he said immediately.

“Well, you’re in good company. There are plenty of residents who also enjoy rap. I’m sure you’ll make fast friends and have lots to talk about.”

Seunghyun’s face indicated that he did not believe anything the woman was saying. Jihun nudged Daesung in the side with his elbow and smirked at him. He delighted in moments when people seemed less than charmed by their sweet and lovable therapist. Daesung was not sure why, since he rather liked Soojin, but he figured it had something to do with Jihun’s conspiracy theories. Seunghyun’s hawk eyes flickered over to the pair.

Upon Soojin’s prodding, residents took turns introducing themselves. Jihun reluctantly shared his name, hometown, and interests. Then it was Daesung’s turn.

“My name is Kang Daesung. I am from Itaewon. I don’t mind the country or the mountains. I quite like the seaside. I enjoy singing. I like many different types of music, ranging from R&B to trot. Thank you.”  

He sat down, surprised. He had not meant to say all that. He had certainly not meant to come off as snarky in any way, shape, or form towards the newcomer. And yet his introduction had been such a pointed opposite of Seunghyun’s that Daesung cringed inside. But when he finally dared a glance at the boy, he saw that his intense gaze had come to settle on Daesung. To his shock, his eyes reflected outright amusement and a hint of admiration.

“Well, I just had no idea you liked to sing!” Soojin cried. “You’ll have to sing for us sometime. Minah?”

The girl stood to introduce herself. Daesung looked away from the new boy, blushing for some reason.  

                                                                        *****