The Bucket List | Doyoung/Taeyong

Chapter 1: The List

I would like to start with a quick note to set the tone!!

This work is very heavy, and potentially triggering. There are serious, lengthy, and often detailed discussions of bullying, homophobia, mental illness, self-harm, and suicide. Please proceed with caution.

It was a bit of a trial to write because of this, so I have to pause to thank my beta readers, Margot and Leon, for their tireless energy in editing this fic and for offering to share its burden. They are the best beta readers a writer could ask for, and, more importantly, the best friends in the world. I could not have completed something this difficult without their help.

All that being said, this work was also incredibly therapeutic to write. While it is a story of grief and loss, it is also one of joy, healing, and hope. I hope you will find it as comforting as you may find it heart-wrenching, just as I have.

Lastly, if you or a loved one are suffering from severe depression and suicidal ideation, please seek help if you can. I will be linking resources at the bottom of each chapter; please use them if you need them. Remember that life is always more than just the things you have lost. It is not easy and it is not mandatory, but to commit to the act of living is one of the best and bravest things anybody can do. If you have found the strength to do so today, you have my respect. And if you have not, but you're here anyway, you have my love in addition. Happy reading!

The A/C is humming louder than usual today, though it's no hotter out than it was when Doyoung was here a week ago. How often does A/C need maintenance? Maybe that's why; maybe the mechanisms inside are heating up, and he won't even know it before he's blasted backwards by the force of the explosion.

"Doyoung." Doyoung snaps his gaze forward, realizing he's been completely zoning out. "I don't think your parents are paying me to watch you stare out the window."

"Sorry, Dr. Cha," Doyoung mumbles.

"It's alright." His therapist leans back, relaxed now that she has his attention again. "You seem... distracted today, clearly. Your mind is distant. It's been nearly ten minutes and you've spoken about five words to me. What is it?"

Doyoung looks down at his lap where his hands lie limp against his thighs. His thumb twitches, chasing a loose thread along the seam of his shorts. "It's nothing," he says. "Like literally nothing. There's nothing in here." He taps his temple, looking back up. "It's like... radio static."

"Ah." Dr. Cha nods. "Say more. What kind of nothing is it?"

Doyoung thinks for a minute. He tries not to lie to Dr. Cha. He knows she's supposed to help. He wants her to be able to help him, though he doubts anybody actually can. But it's nice to pretend, so for the most part he tends to play along. "It's just... empty. Like most days. But more today than usual, I guess." He tilts his head to the side, trying to find another way to explain. The more words you use, the more ways I can find to help you, Dr. Cha had told him during their first session. "It just kind of feels like... there's nothing left." He snorts to himself softly. "That sounds bad, doesn't it?"

Dr. Cha offers him a small smile. "Yes," she says. "I don't think you'd be here if it didn't."

This is another reason why Doyoung tries not to lie to Dr. Cha—because she doesn't crucify him for telling the truth, or freak out and threaten to call his parents or the hospital. She knows when he's really in danger and when he's just expressing some latent frustration. It's the latter today; they both know it, so there's no need for panic or crucifixion.