Life is but a Dream {ChenJi} | ongoing

one

"Just one more questionnaire, then you're good to go!"

Chenle doesn't need to look up know his therapist is smiling. White teeth and a crinkled forehead and perfectly trimmed nails drumming her knee. The clock ticks on through the silence and Chenle swallows, takes the pen to circle the numbers for the final time. Some answers are easy: he knows he hasn't been scrutinising himself in the mirror so much, knows he's been flexible with his food rules the past week. Others are harder: he's still wearing baggy clothes despite the arrival of summer and comparing his body to all his classmates', but he scores them lower without a second thought to maintain the illusion of progress. Then he slides the paper back to Julie with a meek smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

He sighs through his nose and wrings his fingers together, hoping the heat in his cheeks isn't obvious guilt. The entire predicament makes him want to laugh and ugly cry at the same time. Too many years of sliding down the slippery slope, a year of lying and sneaking around, a month of medication that only made him worse, two months in hospital, and a further six months in outpatient therapy have been whittled down to the final ten minutes of treatment. He wants to throw up. To rip his skin off his disgusting body and let himself rot away.

While Julie types on her computer and signs the paperwork to discharge him, Chenle thinks about where he started and where he is now. A circle, he sighs again. He's gone in a circle. He's lying to his therapist, will go home and lie to Johnny and Taeyong, his Dad and Appa; anyone can see that's exactly what he was doing when things first went downhill. The clock keeps ticking, each second passing with a pain in his chest and a lump in his throat to remind him it's real, that he'll never get the moment back. He feels dizzy from not eating all day, the kind of dizziness that comes with satisfaction and doom at the same time, and his next smile is grim, painful, and it strains his cheeks.

Julie congratulates him on his progress and Chenle drinks up the praise with the greediness of a fraud. He always does, and feels cold doing so. The shiver crawls under his skin and fills the emptiness in his chest and chills his bones. He always feels cold.

"And remember, you have the list of helplines if you no longer feel safe. Of course, I'll still be here too in case you want to refer yourself back to this service," Julie tells him in the voice that's as sweet and steady as always, firm but kind. "Have a wonderful rest of your week. Good luck."

"You too," Chenle replies. "Thank you."

Julie scans her card to let him through the corridor, the ticking of the clock fading behind them, then again to let him out the sliding glass doors. Chenle lingers for a second to thank her again before leaving and not looking back. He hears the doors slide shut for a final time. His heartbeat rings in his ears. He can't recall the last time his mind was silent.

The breeze greets him and follows him down the steps as he treads cautiously, as though the wind held the power to knock him over like the slightest sigh to a pyramid of cards. He's alone now. Out in the world, officially discharged, officially better, and all the times he tweaked his answers on the questionnaires come creeping back into his mind and he wishes he hadn't done such a thing. Because now what is he to do? Chenle tugs his hoodie strings until the neck closes around his skin, then releases them with a weighted exhale as soon as he sees the dark blue minivan parked across the street.

Squinting through the sun, he lets a car pass then shuffles across the road and slides into the passenger seat without giving Taeyong a second glance. His Appa, who has picked him up from every session without fail. Who visited him every day while he was in hospital.

"How was it, honey?" Taeyong asks him once he's belted in.

Chenle sniffs. "Okay." It's the only answer he ever gives to that question.