Therapy (Part 1)
Title: Therapy
Author: Redeim
Rating: PG13-ish
Pairing: mentions of GDTOP
Summary: AU TOP’s past
Random Notes: I couldn't leave making GD the only emo one. So here's one with TOP. It seems to be all over the place to me. Had to split into two parts cause the comm is dumb
I remember pretty vividly being dressed up by my sister as a young kid. Hell, even now, with five more inches and 30 pounds more on her, she can still dress me up. It’s awkward now, however. My voice changed, and my features became more masculine.
I bet no one would believe me if I told them I sounded just like GD as a kid. Before his voice changed. GDYB JiYong, I mean.
My sister raised me, really. She’s only about three years older than I am, but she raised me. From what she told me, our parents had us in daycare as soon as my mother was done with maternity leave. We were from a dirt poor family, both our parents had to work pretty much 24/7. They never knew on my first day of kindergarten, I was teased for the next six years because I was in a dress and I didn’t know there was something wrong with that. I went to a middle school away from home to avoid anyone that would know me.
I think that’s when I started becoming depressed, even before I knew what the hell the word meant. The first day of kindergarten, definitely the onset of depression.
Kids are mean, really. There was this one boy, all tough and thinking he was all that.
The teacher had everyone come up in front of the class and introduce themselves and say one thing about themselves.
“Hi, I’m Choi SeungHyu-” I had started.
“You mean you’re a boy?” The kid snarled at me.
“Y…. Yes.” I stuttered back to him, tugging on the skirt.
“Then dress like one!” He growled.
I hid in the cubby area for my first day ever of school and when I found out his name, I stole his cookies from his lunch box.
Middle school wasn’t as bad, except my voice changing killed everyone and I went into silent mode.
“SeungHyun, can you answer this?” The teacher pointed to English on the board.
“…” I didn’t say. It was easy anyway. If it weren’t for (obviously) failing the oral quizzes, I would have passed that class with an A.
The day I did decide to answer, I was just beginning seventh grade. My sister was getting really worried because I hadn’t talked (except minimal things: I’m hungry, I’m tired…), so when I told her I got laughed out of class, she asked me (in her annoying (by that I mean beautiful), sing-song voice. I wish girls had their voices change), “What for now, SeungHyunnie?”
“I gave an answer.”
“In English class, I suppose? You like that class.” She asked me and I nodded. “What was the answer?”
“The book is on the top of the (squeak) shelf.” I covered my mouth shyly, like I had in class. (I squeaked at probably every word in class, it was 10 time more embarrassing.)
My sister had just smiled and told me I’d get over it soon and gave me dinner.
By the time I got laughed out of seventh grade, I got fed up with everything. My last day of seventh grade, I never came home and instead ran away, running into the urban area of Seoul. I know my sister was looking non-stop for me, but I don’t think my parents even knew I was gone.
I pause my reminiscing as the others grab my attention, and tell me I’ve been eating the same spoonful of rice for like, fifteen minutes. I laughed nervously and tell them I was spacing out. I finish my meal and look to the candy jar.
Candy sure looks good… A past me thinks.
Now, SeungHyun, one piece of candy and you know you’d go straight to the gym after words. I argue with myself.
I glance over to the other members and snatch a mini snickers before retreating to my room, collapsing onto my desk chair and resting a foot on the desk. I stared at the ceiling. I hated reminiscing, really. A life on the street is not an easy one, and before that, all I’ve had was ignorance from my parents and an overbearing older sister. (who I really do appreciate, I swear. I mean, she did raise me.)
I close my eyes and toss the unopened candy onto the desk. I hear it land and peek an eye open, seeing it fell next to my computer.
Which reminds me, after finding a school to return to for eighth grade; I got teased for my eyes. As a kid, they weren’t as… what did they call it? Ah, smoky.
Everyone said I wore mascara.
I do not wear mascara.
Or eyeliner.
Or any other freaking eye make up.
I hate my eyes, really.
I spent my nights in a cardboard box for a good two weeks after running away. Then, an angel found me.
Okay, so he wasn’t an angel. But he became my best friend as soon as he uttered the words, “Hi, want to stay at my place?”
Normally some random guy coming up to ask if I wanted to live with him would seem sketchy to me, but really, I was cold, hungry, and just craving for anything.
Except for that garbage can and anything inside of it; especially after that drunk guy puked in it last night.
His name was KiJoon. I still keep in contact with him. It’s much harder now though, for obvious reasons, and I wish I had more time to spend with him.
I hear the others go off, something about leaving me to rest so I don’t faint again and I kind of wonder how long this vacation will last because it’s going on December already and I fainted on my birthday. I shrug and sink lower in my seat.