The Bucket List | Doyoung/Taeyong

Chapter 6: List Item Five: Doyoung Watches Taeyong Consume Carcinogens

Doyoung's first friend was named Andrew. They were in first grade—or no, maybe it was second. Doyoung was delighted to have a friend. They did everything together, and Andrew didn't mind if he stuttered. Andrew liked to read, too, and preferred talking about their favorite books to video games. He didn't mind that Doyoung was skinny and nerdy and awkward. Doyoung thought maybe things would be better. He had a friend, maybe he could make more. Bleak, for a six-year-old, he realizes now looking back on it, but that's what it was.

And then one day when he got to school, Andrew didn't say hi to him. He didn't even meet his eye. Their teacher called for them to sit down before Doyoung could ask him what was wrong, and it took him until lunch to corner him, underneath the slide on the playground.

"Are you mad at me?" Doyoung asked.

Andrew still wouldn't meet his eyes. "No," he said. "But... the other kids are saying things."

"What things?"

"That your parents paid me to be friends with you." Andrew shifted foot to foot, uncomfortable. "Because you're rich and stuff. And 'cuz they think no one would want to be friends with you for real."

"Are they?" Doyoung demanded.

"Are they what?"

"Are they paying you?"

This startled Andrew enough for him to look up at Doyoung. "No!" he said. "No."

A stone settled heavy in Doyoung's stomach. "But," he said haltingly, "you don't wanna be friends anymore."

Andrew's expression turned guilty. "They won't stop," he said. "I don't want—I don't want them to say those things about me anymore."

Andrew's family moved away the next summer. Doyoung told himself it was okay, that it wouldn't have lasted anyway, so it didn't matter. Doyoung told himself thinking that would make it hurt less.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. It was proof that association with Doyoung was social suicide, and that by separating oneself from him, one could be spared the cruelest of the ridicule. Doyoung could hardly blame the other kids for shunning him. It was fear, after all. And they were so young.

"I don't think Taeyong is like that, though," Doyoung tells Dr. Cha. "I mean, I don't know if he's ever been like that. It's fascinating."

"He takes care of you," Dr. Cha sums up. "And you him, I think, in your way." Doyoung ducks his head. "Which is why I'm comfortable giving your parents my blessing sending you off camping this weekend."

Doyoung didn't tell her about the How-Would-You-Do-It conversation. He has a feeling her assessment might shift if he does, so he just nods. "I appreciate it," he says dryly. "But I'd also never break our deal. Fair is fair and all."

Dr. Cha nods, too. "I'll give your mom a call. I'm sure she'll want to hear from me," she says. "Anything else you want to tell me? We still have ten minutes."

Doyoung hesitates. "I had this, uh, dream, the other night," he says finally, and launches into a quick summary of the dream he had the night after the beach. "I haven't had nightmares like that since..." He shakes his head. "For like a year. I don't know. It was a good day. I don't know what triggered it."

Dr. Cha shrugs. "It could just be part of a learned survival instinct. Maybe your brain is saying, 'don't get too comfortable'. Because your whole life, goodness has been scarce. So when it comes, it feels like a trap. At least to a piece of your mind—a piece that is trying to keep you safe." She tilts her head. "Or maybe you're just sad, Doyoung. And sometimes it comes to the fore, even when things are good. Maybe especially then. You're carrying a lot. One good day won't erase all of it."