An uneventful week passed.  Every day was similar to the previous, and even though I gradually started talking to the others more and more often, I was still sad and lonely.  Sure, having Ryeowook and Heechul and everyone else there meant I had people my age to talk to for once, but the fact that they were there didn’t change the circumstances very much.

No matter how much Sunny and the others tried to romanticize this place, it was just a mental hospital.  And I despised it.

However, that didn’t mean I didn’t want to make the most of my time.  If I thought about it, I had more freedom here than I had at home.  At home, I was always trapped in my room with only private tutors and stacks of textbooks and file folders for company.  At Incheon Psychiatric, I was trapped in a room with people I almost considered friends by now.

It was kind of sad.

Guess which one I prefered?

It was Sunday, and according to Ryeowook, it was the day where all of us who had displayed good behavior throughout the week got to leave the hospital for a few precious hours.  We could only pick from three or four nearby locations, but it was better than nothing.

This week, the others elected to go to a small café a few blocks away from the hospital.  Sunny said it would be fun, but I wasn’t sure how to interpret that because she had a way of making things sound more exciting than they actually turned out to be. Truth was, I had never been to a café before because my parents had thought they were a waste of time, so I didn’t know what it would be like.  But it couldn’t hurt.  Besides, Ryeowook had told me he was coming too.

Later on in the afternoon, Leeteuk gathered all of us together in the hospital's main lobby.  It was warm outside, so I was wearing a simple t-shirt and black jeans, very similar to what I had been wearing when I had first come here.  The other kids were dressed similarly, but Ryeowook was still wearing his customary oversized sweatshirt, which covered his entire upper body except for his fingertips.  We had all been instructed to keep our nametags on.

When Jungsu had finished taking a head count, he led all of us outside.  Another social worker that I didn’t know the name of followed our group, eyeing us carefully as we all walked to the café.

As if we needed to be watched like that.

It wasn’t a very long walk: only twenty minutes or so.  While we walked, I took in everything in sight: the street stands, the sidewalks, the people passing us by.  It had been a while since I had gone out, and I stared at everything as if I was a curious child.

The café was a modest one.  There were ten or so tables scattered around the entire place and comfortable looking beanbag chairs in the corners.  There were houseplants and sacks of coffee beans everywhere on the shelves and the floors.  It had a cozy feel to it and smelled strongly of baked goods and coffee.  Well, I guess that was to be expected.  But the entire experience was new to me.

Jungsu ushered all ten of us-- Hyuna and TOP had stayed behind-- to a corner of the café and had us write down our orders on a piece of paper.  We were each allowed to choose one baked good and one drink.  The paper passed through five pairs of hands before it came to me, and I took it, suddenly very puzzled and worried.  I had no idea how or what to order.  What if I ordered something that I didn’t like?  How was I supposed to know what was good and what wasn’t?

“Uh…”  Leeteuk was waiting for me to write something, and I didn’t want to make myself look like an idiot in front of him and everyone else in the café.  The people who had already written down their orders were talking amongst themselves or looking around the café.  Two or three of those who were still waiting were looking right at me and I was suddenly frozen in place.  My heart rate sped up in and I felt my breath becoming shorter.  No, I said to myself forcefully.  Not here, not now.  I took a deep breath, tore my eyes away from them, glanced down at the menu, and wrote down the names of the first two items I saw.  Shoving the clipboard towards the person directly next to me, I took three more deep breaths.  Then I heard the faint sound of scribbling next to me and turned to see Ryeowook holding the pen and paper.

I was taken aback at the sight of Ryeowook ordering food out of his own free will.  Or was it his own free will?  I looked, but his eyes didn’t appeared distressed or pained like they usually were when it came to food.  He finished writing and looked up, catching my gaze.  Our eyes met for a second, but then I glanced away, slightly bothered that he had caught me looking.  When all of us were done writing, Leeteuk ordered for all of us, reading off the piece of paper.  The rest of us waited outside with the other social worker so that there would be room for other customers.  As the others talked, I stared at the street and watched everyone walk by.

The air smelled slightly of pollution, probably from all the cars and trucks outside.  But it smelled different from the sterile cleanliness of the hospital, and I was happy about that.  The sun was bright, there were wispy clouds in the sky, and there was a slight breeze.  It was a nice day.

It had been a while since I had gone outside.  It was dejecting to think that I would only get to go outside once a week.  My head drooped slightly and I bit my lip as I tried to imagine what it would be like if I got to go outside as much as I wanted to.

I felt someone touch the edge of my fingertips and I jumped in surprise.  I relaxed when I saw it was just Ryeowook, who was still standing next to me.

“Hey,” he said simply.  I nodded a greeting in return and managed to work up a small smile.

“Hey,” I said back.  I continued staring at the passerby.  On the outside, I knew that we probably seemed like normal people to them, but we weren’t.  After all, we were all here for a reason.  Because we had problems.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two boys walking by.  Both of them were wearing school uniforms.  One of them looked several years older than the other.  They were talking and laughing with each other as they headed into a bookstore on the other end of the block.  My eyes grew wide and my chest nearly collapsed in on itself as I remembered Sungjin.  I had to fight to keep myself from crying in public.

Suddenly, I became aware of Ryeowook’s hand, which was touching my left hand once more.  His gaze was fixed on the spot where the two boys had been, and he absent-mindedly twined his cool, slim fingers with my own.  I gave him a startled look and began to pull my hand away, but decided against it.  His thumb slowly rubbed over my palm as we both stared off into the distance.  I inhaled and exhaled a few times, and when I could talk again, I turned back to Ryeowook.

“Why are you touching me?”  I asked, my voice sounding sharper and meaner than I intended it to be.  But Ryeowook looked up, unfazed.

“You look sad, hyung.”

I raised my eyebrows.  I didn’t need anyone to sympathize with me.

“And your point is?”

“Physical contact usually helps.”  He tightened his grip a little bit, and to my surprise, I didn’t do anything to stop him.  As the seconds ticked by, I found that I actually liked it.  His hand was soft and warm, and although we didn’t say anything to each other, his presence was comforting.

But when Leeteuk came out of the café with several paper bags full of food and drinks and beckoned us forward so that we could get our purchases, I practically yanked my hand out of Ryeowook’s, suddenly afraid of what Leeteuk might think.  Both of us probably looked weird to him and to everyone else around us, I wasn’t sure whether or not we were allowed to be touching others, and I wasn’t gay.  I saw Ryeowook tilt his head to the side and give me a strange look, but he said nothing.

It wasn’t until I had reached Leeteuk that I realized I didn’t remember what I had ordered.  I stood there for a while, my mouth slightly agape as I searched my memory, but there was no sudden moment of realization.  Leeteuk looked at me and grinned.

“What’s wrong, Sungmin-ssi?”  He asked.  “Do you need anything?”

“Uh…” I looked down at my shoes, feeling my face turn red in embarrassment.  “I… I don’t remember what I ordered,” I muttered at last, feeling frustrated and annoyed at Jungsu even though it wasn’t even his fault.

Leeteuk smiled and glanced down at the piece of paper.

“It’s no problem.  Let’s see…”  His finger moved down the list and it stopped about halfway.  “You ordered a chocolate croissant and a caramel macchiato.”  He rummaged through the large bag for a bit and handed to me.  I took them rather grudgingly and muttered a word of thanks.

Most of the tables directly outside the café were filled.  I searched for Heechul, but he was sitting at a table with Sooyoung, Tiffany, and CL.  There weren’t any vacant seats at his table, or any of the other tables.  I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to ask any of them to go to the trouble of making room for me.  My eyes darted around nervously and I tightly clenched my food in my hands.  Feeling a slight tug on my sleeve, I turned around to see Ryeowook again.

“Do you wanna go over there?”  He asked, nodding towards a few benches on the opposite side of the street.  I hesitated for a moment.

“Are we even allowed to do that?”  I looked at Leeteuk, who had his back to us.  He was busy handing out food to everyone else.

“Yeah, as long as we don’t go too far and Myungsoo doesn’t lose sight of us.”  He glanced at the other social worker.  I hesitated for a few more seconds but shrugged and crossed the street with Ryeowook.  My body tensed up as I found myself in the middle of a crosswalk, surrounded by cars and motorcycles, and Ryeowook peered over at me without saying anything.  Neither of us spoke until we had reached the benches and sat down.

Ryeowook unwrapped something, which turned out to be a blueberry scone.  He took a bite of it and chewed thoughtfully as he stared at the rest of our group back at the café.  I watched him finish the scone bit by bit, forgetting about my own food.  It was strange for me, watching Ryeowook eat without looking absolutely miserable.  As though he could read my thoughts, he paused mid-bite and turned to look at me.

“What?”  He asked, the slightest bit of accusation in his voice.  I quickly looked away.

“Nothing,” I said in an unconvincing voice.  I mentally berated myself.  Ryeowook had returned to eating his scone.

“So what if I’m eating?”  There was a smirk in his voice.  “So what if I like to pretend that I’m normal sometimes?”

Flustered and confused, I couldn’t think of anything to say so I looked away and took out my own food.  The croissant was better than I had expected.  It was light and buttery and flaky, and the sweetness of the chocolate didn’t completely overwhelm the overall taste.  The entire thing was gone within two minutes and I found myself left with nothing but crumbs on my fingertips and an empty paper wrapper.  I brushed them off and picked up my caramel macchiato, taking a sip.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”  I heard to my right.  Ryeowook had what appeared to be a vanilla latte in his hands and he was watching me with a small smile.  I nodded and turned my gaze back to the others, who were eating their own pastries and chatting with each other.

“Ryeowook?”  I found myself asking.  He looked over curiously.  “I thought you hated eating,” I blurted out without registering what I had just said until it was too late to take the words back.  He made a small sound of amusement and I almost regretted asking, but I really wanted to know more about him.

“Most of the time.  Not all of the time, though.  I still need to survive, I guess.  Like I said, I like to pretend I'm normal."  He paused and scoffed gently.  "But we're not, aren't we?"

I still didn't know how to interpret his words.

“But why do you hate eating?”

He looked over sharply but I forced myself to hold his gaze, even though his eyes had narrowed.

“You don’t know what it feels like?”

I shook my head no.  I honestly didn’t.

"Lucky you, then," I heard him mutter under his breath.

Ryeowook hesitated and I watched as a flood of emotions filled his dark orbs.

“I just don’t like it,” he said at last.  “I used to.  But I just don’t anymore.  I’m afraid of gaining weight, I guess.”

“But you’re not fat.”  I looked Ryeowook’s body up and down, and I saw him shrink away.

“Just not as much as I used to be.  You know Shindong?”  He asked.

I thought for a minute before the image of the plump cafeteria worker popped into my head.

“Yeah.  What about him?”

“When I was losing weight, I exercised too much for my own good and starved myself.  I guess it just became an addiction.”  He made a face at the ground.  “I used to be as chubby as Shindong.  If not chubbier.”  

I looked at Ryeowook again in utter disbelief.  As my eyes traveled over his body for the second time, he literally winced even though I hadn't touched him.  So I stopped looking at his body and looked at his face again.

“But you’re still not fat,” I said, taking in his hollow cheekbones and sunken eyes.  “You look like you weigh half as much as I do.”  Ryeowook just shrugged and lifted his vanilla latte to his lips again.

“It’s your turn,” he said after finishing half his latte.

“My turn to what?”

“To tell me something about yourself.  I told you something first, so it’s your turn now.”

“What do I say?”  I asked, bewildered.  “There’s nothing to say about myself.”

“Well, you must be here for a reason, right?”

All the events that had occurred when I had first been brought here replayed themselves in my head and I suddenly remembered my family.  Or at least what family I had left.  My dad was gone, as well as Sungjin, and my mom hated me because I had to go here.  I felt my throat close up for a moment, and almost on cue, Ryeowook’s free hand slipped into mine.

I didn’t pull away, but I gave him a strange look and he made a similar face back.

“I’m not gay, you know,” I said in a hushed voice.  “Well, not that being gay is a bad thing.  Like I support gays but… I’m not…”

Ryeowook chuckled.

“Me neither.”

“What?  But…” I looked down at our hands and he snorted.

“But?  It’s called skinship between friends, you idiot.”  His voice became placid again.  “Yeah?  Keep going.”
 

I hesitated.  I hadn’t told any of the others yet because even though we were all trapped here, I still had my pride.  And my family’s reputation.  And my own insecurities.

“But only if you want to,” Ryeowook’s voice was quiet.  “I just thought it might be good for you to vent.  You always look like you have something on your mind but I’ve never you seen you talk to anyone about it.”

“My dad was the CEO of Samsung,” I blurted out.  Ryeowook’s head suddenly swiveled to look at me.  His eyes widened but he didn’t say anything.  “Yeah,” I muttered.  “Lee’s a pretty common last name and Sungmin’s a pretty common first name, but yeah, I’m that Lee Sungmin.  I’m guessing you already know most of the story now that you know who I am.”  Ryeowook nodded slowly and squeezed my hand gently.  To my surprise, I kept talking.

“So my dad died before I was ten and I was pressured to go to school and somehow take charge of the company at the same time.  But I couldn’t do either of them and my mom started hiring private tutors.  Other people took over my dad’s position and my tutors started preparing me for when I would become CEO.  That wasn’t what I wanted though.  I wanted to join SM Entertainment at one point.  Crazy, right?  Like, could you actually imagine me up onstage, performing with DBSK and everyone?”  Ryeowook’s eyes grew wide but he still said nothing.  My chest felt tight again but I forced myself to keep going.

“Anyways, I told my mom about my dreams, but of course she didn’t agree.  Because I was supposed to be CEO, not an idol.  My younger brother Sungjin was the only one who actually supported me and told me to do whatever I wanted to.  There was a dance instructor at his middle school and every day after school, we both went there so I could practice.  And then one day we were walking to practice and there was a drunk driver and he--”  I bit down on my lip as hard as I could and I felt drops of blood appear.  My hand started to shake, but Ryeowook’s fingers continued to my palm at a slow pace.  Gradually, I calmed down and frantically swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Not sure if you saw it, but about two weeks ago, there was a news article about how I had been poisoned by one of the maids in our house.  And about a week after that, there was an article about how a car hit me and pushed me into a river.”  Ryeowook nodded again.  “That actually never happened.  My mom, being the type of person she is, somehow forced the press to publish a different story.  Truth was, I was too overwhelmed with everything so I overdosed on pills and tried to jump off a bridge.”

“She wouldn’t want everyone finding out, would she now?”  Ryeowook asked.  I shook my head and he took both my hands in both of his.

We sat there for who knew how long, finishing the rest of our coffee and just staring at the outside world.  After a while, Leeteuk yelled across the street to us and signalled that we had another ten minutes until we had to head back

“Strange, isn’t it?”  I suddenly heard Ryeowook whisper.

“What is?”  I wasn’t in the best of spirits, but at least I wasn’t crying anymore.  Ryeowook’s hand had never left mine.

“That we’re supposed to tell these kind of things to them.”  He nodded towards Leeteuk and Myungsoo’s general direction.  “But if you really think about it, it’s not as strange as it might seem.”

Ryeowook’s hand had stopped moving and he sighed softly.

“When I was younger, people at school used to bully me because I was fat.”  His eyes had suddenly filled with tears and even though his voice was steady, he was talking a lot more slowly than usual.

“I was nothing but nice to them.  I offered them help on homework when they needed it and helped them with the chores we all had to do around campus and asked them if they were okay whenever they were crying for any reason.  And they all laughed at me for trying to fit in with them.  No matter what I did, they hated me.”

A single tear trickled down his thin face and I found myself brushing it away before I was fully aware of what I was doing.  Ryeowook didn’t react immediately but one corner of his mouth slowly turned up, although his eyes remained doleful.

“There’s also something else,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?  What is it?”

He didn’t reply right away, but when he did, he looked directly into my eyes and bit his lower lip.

“I’m not trying to be an attention ,” he said in a barely audible voice.  “I’m choosing to show you because I trust you not to tell the others.”

I nodded and Ryeowook adjusted his grip, sliding his fingers down to my wrist.  Inch by inch, he gradually guided my hand over to his right wrist.  My eyes grew wide.  I already had a premonition of what he was going to show me and I looked back at him, startled.  He looked up at me for a fraction of a second and then looked back down at his own lap.  He nodded, just barely moving his head, and with his permission, I slipped my fingers under the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

I gasped as soon as my fingers made contact with the first scar.  Slowly, I edged my fingers further and further up his arm.  I lost count after thirty and looked up at him, my tears welling up in my eyes and nearly pooling over.  He didn’t make eye contact again, but I could see tears trickling down his cheeks.

I was terrified of what I would find if I saw his skin in full view, but my curiosity overwhelmed me and I took a deep breath, rolling his sleeve up so that his forearm was exposed.  I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep myself from gasping out loud.
 

Every inch of his pale skin was covered in paler pink scar tissue.  There must have been hundreds.  Some were tiny and thin and looked as if they had been delicately carved out with needles.  Others were huge and looked as if they had been created by steak knives.

I heard Ryeowook swallow and looked up from his scars to see his face completely wet.

“I don’t want your pity,” he said slowly.  Despite his tears, his voice was relatively calm, with only the slightest tremble to it.  “Just like you don’t want other people to pity you because your brother died, I don’t want you to pity me because of my scars.”

“I don’t pity you,” I found myself saying.  “I want to help you.”

Ryeowook looked up at me again and began to wipe his tears away with his other sleeve.  I rolled his sleeve back down, hiding his scars from view again.

“They say that broken people can’t heal each other.  And that two wrongs don’t make a right.  And all that other clichéd .”

“Who says that broken people can’t heal each other?”  Without even realizing it, I had taken the initiative and slipped my hand into Ryeowook’s.  “The person who broke you can’t heal you.  But who’s to say that other broken people can’t?”

I blocked out the sound of Leeteuk yelling that it was time for us to go back to the hospital.  Ryeowook managed to smile through his tears, and I smiled a faint smile back.  I wanted to heal him.  And I would do whatever I could to make that happen.

Hi my readers/subscribers ^^ omfg this is so many months overdue... I'm really really sorry D; but I'll try to update more often now that it's summer and school is over... and hopefully I'll find more inspiration for this fic XD

Thank you for reading, comment, subscribe, and upvote if you haven't already, and have a lovely day everyone ^^