[WARNING: Occaisional references to self harm]

I carefully draw another line through the little box on the calendar.  4th of November. A week exactly until he comes back to me. 7 days. 168 hours. 10,078 minutes. Then we'd be together properly, we could start living this new life with each other.

So much has changed for me in the last year, and that was partly down to sunny haven rehabilitation centre...but mainly down to Lee Hyukjae, who - as messed up as we both were - has somehow become the love of my life.

_________________________One year ago____________________________

"Donghae?" My mum's voice was soft and careful, like everybody's was these days. Every single one of them talked behind my back, about not making me upset or I would go psycho again, I'd heard them before.

When I didn't reply and stayed with my knees tucked under my chin, sitting on the window seat of my room and looking out, she came in. Sitting next to me, she put her hand on my shoulder. I jerked away.

"Donghae please..." She begged, her voice cracking with hurt and regret. But no amount of regret was going to make her change her mind, let me stay here. No. She was sending me away to rehab, getting rid of me, and I wasn't going to forgive her for it.

A couple of months ago was the first time my mum had seen my cuts...the doctor had diagnosed me with bipolar and an addiction to self-injury on top of my insomnia, handing me a prescription for a pathetically small bag of pills meant to control all the symptoms.

Now here I was, leaving my house tomorrow for an uncertain amount of time. It had finally become too much for my mum and she decided it was worth all the ing money it cost to send me to sunny haven when she'd seen the advert in one of the magazines she loved to read. I saw the advert, all bright colours and attractive male doctors and empty promises. Useless.

"I got your suitcase out of the attic for you. Can you pack tonight? You're leaving pretty early tomorrow." She said, and I made sure to keep my gaze fixed on the wall. Out of the corner of my eye I watched her stare at me for a while before she gave up, pressing a kiss against my hair then leaving again.

The tears I'd been restraining slipped silently down my cheeks, and I leaned against the cold glass. The hopelessness I had become familiar with pressed down on me, weighing on my muscles and clouding my mind, lethargy ruling my body. I didn't have any friends left, but at least that meant I didn't have to say goodbye to anyone...just my mum, and I hadn't spoken to her for 3 days now. 

Of course I didn't get any sleep, I found it near impossible normally, let alone today, but my thoughts were plagued by white walls and bland food and straight jackets and snarling faces as I watched the moon make a path across the sky. Wasn't that what the place she was sending me would be like? A bit like a prison or a crazy home, I couldn't imagine it any differently.

So with this in my head, I slipped quietly downstairs and into a chair where my mum had left breakfast and a note saying she’d be back to say goodbye at midday. This was morning routine I was accustomed to, breakfast left like I was incapable of making it myself, a cheerful sounding note to make up for her constant absence. But today felt different; Everything was different today.

I was wondering around the house, at a loss for what to do until midday, trying to avoid thinking of the last little razor I’d hidden well enough that my mum  hadn’t found it yet…when I spotted my piano and notebook, with lyrics scrawled across it. Something in my brain sparked, and it was as if someone was gradually turning the brightness up on a screen. I felt alive again, and suddenly it was like I could do anything.

Now that I was on a high nothing could stop me, and I decided if I wrote a song about all my feelings and doubts that leaving home held (not that I had any in this brief moment, my head was crammed full of positive thoughts) everything would be ok. I wrote four, all in a major key to make it seem happier. After that I tidied the kitchen for my mum, then the bedrooms, then the rest of the house, then I tried baking cookies that went kind of wrong.

I continued like this for a couple of hours until I collapsed on the sofa in our now spotless living room, knowing the feeling was temporary and now fading, but I would enjoy the last remnants of feeling invincible. Every bipolar case was different, but mine unfortunately seemed to give me longer depressive phases and short highs. I hardly ever felt in a ‘normal’ mood.

The doorbell pulled me out of my thoughts and, thinking it would be mum, I sighed and got up to open it. It was only when the door swung open to reveal a cheery and smiling lady, a mini van with ‘Sunny Haven’ written on the side, and a sad looking boy with black floppy hair in one of the windows that I realized it was time to get picked up.

“I can’t go,” I told her bluntly, hearing the undertone of fear present in my own voice, “My mum’s not here yet, she said she’d come to say goodbye.”

“That’s ok sweetie, we can wait.” She said, that bright smile still pasted on her face, “Are you close to your mum then?”

“No.”

“How about your dad?”

“He’s…gone.”

The lady made a small ‘ah’ noise and pursed her lips awkwardly. I was slightly annoyed that she’d asked random personal questions about my life so soon. Were they already trying to dissect me, find out what was wrong with me like some laboratory experiment? They seemed to believe that if x happened to you and your personality was y then you ended up with some kind of mental illness.

They didn’t really understand how it felt to struggle to sleep, not knowing how you were going to feel the next morning, to go from virtually suicidal to on top of the world in a millisecond, it felt so confusing and complex, how do you begin to analyze this? To analyze human emotions?

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” I offered the apology in a flat, dead voice, but I didn’t care that it didn’t sound sincere…she hadn’t done anything to earn sincerity. For perhaps an hour I waited, bringing down my suitcase and sitting on the doorstep while the lady played on her phone and the boy in the van remained looking sad and bored.

Eventually I accepted it. My mum had either forgotten…or she wasn’t going to come. Neither was something I would forget.

“Let’s go.” I said suddenly and walked towards the parked vehicle, without looking to see if there was any expression of pity on her face, because if there was I didn’t need it. I hated that the most; people feeling sorry for me. Easily lifting my heavy suitcase – a bag containing my life now – into the spacious minivan, I jammed it behind the back seats before hearing a quiet voice calling me.

“Donghae? You’re Donghae right?” The boy asked, his hair falling over one of his eyes as he swiveled in his chair to look at me, “They told me your name back at Sunny’s and asked me to come. Want to sit here?”

I would have refused normally, but the boy had done nothing to me yet to deserve a cold rejection, and besides, if he was from the place that would be my home for the next few months at least…it would be a good idea to try and befriend him. Slowly, I sat down in the seat next to him and tried to smile. The boy looked relieved.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sungmin.” He said, smiling kindly and stretching out his hand for a handshake. His actions made his long sleeve fall back slightly, giving me a glimpse of the mass of scars on his right wrist, criss-crossed over each other, new over old…I averted my eyes quickly, shaking his hand and trying to pretend I hadn’t seen, but it was too late. He’d noticed my glance and bit his lip, tugging his sleeve up so only the tips of his fingers were visible.

So he self harmed too? I felt a wave of sadness that such a seemingly innocent and sweet boy was exposed to such a serious problem. Apparently Sungmin had decided to carry on as if it hadn’t happened though, because he straight away started talking in that shy but animated voice of his, letting me know about the layout and routine of their destination, as well as asking about my life.

Unlike the lady driving, I could tell Sungmin was just eager to be friends with me and find out about me, rather than studying and judging me, which made me willing to open up. We talked for the entire three hour drive, and by the end my spirits were raised despite the dark cloud of worry in my head. I felt I had made a friend, and considering I hadn’t made a friend in almost two years now…it was quite an achievement.

Contrary to my expectations, Sunny Haven Rehabilitation looked more like a posh holiday home than a jail. There was no denying that the white walls surrounding it and gate covering the entrance was meant to discourage escape, but apart from that…it looked like an old fashioned mansion, but also pretty and fresh, flower beds and trees dotting the large gardens surrounding it. I even spied a lake on the other side and smiled, wondering if you could swim in it. I had always loved swimming.

As we pulled up in the stony courtyard, Sungmin took my hand in a comforting notion, leading me to the little wooden door that I was told was the back door, and opening it without knocking. At first I was surprised but, after some thought, I realized this was practically Sungmin’s home.

“Hello!” He called out to no-one in particular as he opened the door. We were standing in a small corridor with doors on either side, little room numbers and plaques on each one. There were six rooms here.

“These are people’s rooms. There are four floors here, six rooms on each floor,” Sungmin explained, his face scrunched in concentration as he tried to do the maths, “So…24 rooms altogether. Only about a dozen have people in at the moment though.” I was distracted by reading the names on some of the doors. Half were blank, but room 2 had ‘Lee Minho’ written in neat black print, further on ‘Kim Hyuna’ was written on room 5, and ‘Ji Yong Zic’ was the name on the last door, although a messy hand had scribbled ‘G Dragon’ onto the wood below.

“I live on floor 3, room 14, if you ever need to find me.” Sungmin smiled at me, then stopped walking, “Ok, this is you! I got told to take you to the medical room when you got here for…paperwork and check ups I guess. Don’t worry about it Donghae, I’ll speak to you later ok?” Then he waved and skipped away, leaving me alone in front of the white door.

I opened the door and saw the standard doctor’s room: computer, white bed, draws and cupboards labeled with complicated names. Then there were a few embellishments, for example the stuffed bear sitting on one of the surfaces and pop music playing out of a radio in the corner. Perching on the edge of the bed awkwardly, I began to swing my legs back and forth, waiting.

I’d been doing that for a while when suddenly a man in a spotless white coat strode into the room brandishing a clipboard and a charming grin. His almost bronze coloured hair was ruffled but organized, the glasses he wore gave him the look of y intelligence. His face was honest, and seeing him in real life instead of the advert where I’d seen this man’s face before, he looked much more like a real doctor instead of a mere model pretending to be qualified.

“You must be Lee Donghae,” He said, flashing his pearly white teeth once again and tucking his clipboard under one arm to extend his hand professionally, “My name is Doctor Cho Kyuhyun. Welcome to Sunny Haven.”

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SO. That was the first chapter!! I'm kind of nervous about posting this because....I really hope I said the right things, I've never written anything like this before but I felt like I needed to write it omg. Hopefully I'll update soon but I can't promise, I really really really hope you liked it, please tell me if you did. See you soon!!

*Bites fingernails nervously*