who's who

Cho Kyuhyun

our sarcastic and "evil" hero. has a crazy mom who thinks he's mentally unstable

Choi Sooyoung

a new student at school. innocent and intelligent, but socially inept

Lee Donghae

a suave lady's man. Kyuhyun's friend

Lee Hyuk Jae (Eunhyuk)

the class clown everyone loves. Kyuhyun's friend

Lee Sungmin

the cute (and seemingly innocent) boy the girls adore. Kyuhyun's friend

Dr. Hwang

Kyuhyun's psychiatrist

 

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FOREWORD

 

 

 

 

 

Apparently the response, “oh, fine,” to “how was your day?” means that you’re a “depressed emo kid that hates his eomeoni.”

At least, that’s the case with my eomma.

I’m generally not a talkative person and since my life is pretty much average, I don’t have much to say. Just because I live a boring life doesn’t mean that I’m depressed or “mentally unstable.” The only mentally unstable person is eomeoni.

(but if I tell her that then it’ll back up her theory more—the one of me hating her)

So, my over protective (crazy) eomeoni of mine thinks that something is wrong with me. Noona agrees (she’s just as insane) and says that I need someone to talk to, which leads my abeoji (who’s supposed to be entirely normal) to suggest that I go and see a counselor.

And somehow my eomma sent me to go see a psychiatrist.

The logic behind all of this baffles me. I mean, I’m not like a terrible kid. I’m not suicidal. I’m not depressed. Yeah, sure, I’m a smartass and I’m mean every once in a while, but what teenage boy isn’t?

But yeah, so because of my eomma’s cracked up logic, I am now sitting in gloomy, waiting room, freezing my off. Don’t the people who run this place feel how frickin’ cold it is here? It’s January for Christ’s sake!

Suddenly, a stout woman, with short jet black hair slides open the door looking down at me through her thick, black-rimmed glasses. “You Kyuhyun?”

She said my name as if I was the bane her of existence. And frankly I feel insulted. It was like I was some sort of insect or bug or worm or something that people would be disgusted by. Who was this ugly woman to judge me?

In the typical Kyuhyun-fashion, I reply, “Yeah, what’s it to ya?”

 Ms. Crabby-Appleseed’s eyes narrowed at me. “Don’t get fresh with me, kid. Dr. Hwang’s ready to see you.”

It’s not worth wasting my breath on this hag. I follow her down a narrow hallway into a small looking room. Once I entered, I lost the feeling of claustrophobia, for the room was huge. Old chairs scattered the area, with a puke-green couch at the center. The walls were a bleak white and there was a giant mirror the size of the wall itself on the far end of the room. I now felt uncomfortable and uneasy. The mirror looks sketchy; like a two-way mirror cops use. Before I could examine it any further, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Cho Kyuhyun,” a calm and soft voice says behind me.

I stiffened at first and then spun around in shock. Dr. Hwang wasn’t what I expected. For one, he was a she. Unless men suddenly started growing (do girls grow them?) s. She had long, wavy, chestnut brown hair that reached past her shoulders. She was dressed up in white, holding a clipboard to her chest.

My mouth went dry as I stared at her in shock. “D-Dr. Hwang?” I stutter, as she smiled.

“Yes, that is my name. Now that we were properly introduced, please, have a seat and we could talk.”

I felt myself unconsciously nod. I was intimidated by her. Most guys in my situation would be drowning in a fantasy for have such an…er…attractive person as their psychiatrist, but I guess I’m not like most guys.

…WHICH TOTALLY DOES NOT MEAN I’M GAY, OKAY?

Not that I have any problems with people that are, it’s just I’m not one of them.

Oh Lord almighty, this better not mean I’m gay and she’s going to find out in future sessions. Oh God, sick. No, no, no.

“So I’ve heard quiet a lot about you from your mother, Kyuhyun. She tells me that you’re quiet the comedian. When you speak to her, that is.”

“Sure,” I shrug, sitting on the ugly green couch. Although I felt intimidated by this woman, I felt a surge of confidence and continued to speak, “I mean it comes with the whole package.”

Damn it, I’m turning into Donghae.

She laughs at this, “Oh really? That’s some confidence you have there. Generally people who come here lack that confidence and it’s my job to show them the greatness they possess.”

I shrug again. “It’s not like I really need to be here. There’s nothing wrong with me. Eomma should be the one here, not me.”

Dr. Hwang smiles at this. “I’m notorious for showing people problems they don’t even know they have. Perhaps your eomeoni has other reasons for sending you here, and whatever the case is, I’ll be the one to fix it.”

I just stare at her without responding. I know for a fact that I don’t belong here. I know I’m not mental. I know I don’t need any help. My life is rather fine, except for the fact I’m here sitting in a psychiatrist’s office. Maybe that’s the real problem?

“Let’s begin our session, shall we?” How about, let’s not? “In order for me to evaluate you, how about I get to know you first? So how old are you, Kyuhyun?”

“Seventeen,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest.

“So you’re in your second year?”

I shake my head. “Ani.”

“Ah…your final year? Have you thought about what university you wanted to attend?”

“Dunno.”

She put her pen to her lips. “Do you have any friends?”

I give her an incredulous look. She’s joking, right?

“Uh, duh.”

She stares back at me. “Excuse me for not knowing you at all, Mr. Cho, but for all I know you could be the stereotype loner everyone avoids.”

“Well I do have friends. Three of them in fact.”

Dr. Hwang grins at this. “Tell me about them.”

How do I describe three idiots in front of a psychiatrist without sounding like an ?

Oh right, I am an so it doesn’t matter.

“Uh, well Donghae…he’s….” I picture the quote-unquotesuave dark-haired guy and find myself rolling my eyes “…he’s, um, he really likes the ladies,” I finish lamely.

She nods at this. “And the other two?”

I mentally see Eunhyuk trying to be funny with everyone around him laughing and Sungmin surrounded by girls who find him cute. Why the hell are my friends popular and I’m practically unknown?

…not that I have a problem with that.

“Eunhyuk’s an idiotic monkey that thinks he’s funny and Sungmin’s just a giant baby,” I say without realizing I lowered my filter.

.

Dr. Hwang raises one of her perfectly thin (not that I’m staring) eyebrows. “Do you not like your friends?”

I shake my head. “Of course not. I’m just exaggerating! They’re awesome dudes, ha-ha,” I force out a chuckle.

Really, it’s not that I hate them. I’m pretty sure I established earlier that I’m an right? I just treat them like that because it is who I am. Maybe that’s why I’m not popular, hmm….

“I see,” Dr. Hwang says after a long stretch of silence. She starts writing on her clipboard. I look over at a picture hanging nearby and I swear that the eyes just moved. What the fu—

“I’m going to stop answering questions for today’s session.”

I glance at the clock. Only ten minutes has past. What the hell? Eomma’s paying for this right? She seriously just got jipped off if she paid already.

“How the hell..? It’s only been ten minutes! How can you tell anything about me in TEN minutes?”

Dr. Hwang gives me a knowing smile. “That’s the thing. Most people that come here don’t tell me anything interesting their first session no matter how long it lasts. And that’s where I came up with the idea that lets you open your emotions up more. I’m going to give you a notebook, and as homework, I want you to write in it every day. At least once. You could do more if you’d like though.”

What.

What did she just say?

A notebook.

A notebook to write what I’m feeling.

Otherwise known as,

“A diary? You’re kidding right? Isn’t that mushy stuff for girls who have no one to talk to?”

“If you actually write in it, you’ll be able to understand your feelings more and discover things you never knew about yourself.”

Sure, and I learned how to fly in the 6th grade. There’s no way in hell writing in a diary could help me “discover” myself.

 “Okay, sure.”

Instead, I give her a fake smile and take this stupid green (it’s not even the nice looking green) notebook from her and walk to the door. As soon as I’m out of here, this thing’s going in the trash.

“Yah, and Kyuhyun?” Dr. Hwang calls. I stop in my tracks.

“Ne?” I reply, bored.

“My eyes are up here. I know you’re a teenage boy, but look there next time, m’kay?”

I spun around so fast I thought I’d pass out due to dizziness. I look at her mortified, and I’m pretty sure my face is on fire. “B-bwoh?”

She laughs. “Kidding! Kidding! I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at six o’clock.”

“Sure…”

Psh, yeah right. I’m not coming back here near this lady again.

And for the record, I wasn’t staring at her, erm…you-know-what’s.

 

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A/N: Fack my life. Why am I writing this? I should just slow down and write one story at a time.

Kyuhyun’s personality in this story is basically me in real life (minus talking back at adults), so writing this is easy.

It’s going to be told entirely in journal entries starting with the next chapter. It’ll be different than most diary stories you’ve read (if you have), so give it a chance (for one the use of pictures are going to be present)