Rehab.

People describe it as if it’s a holy land. Spoiler alert, it’s nothing even close to that.

Patients vomiting in the hallways, food fights happening almost everyday, at least one person having a meltdown during group therapy. You name it, and it probably happens there.

Nam-gyu was new. So were you. You’d both been conveniently placed in the same room, everything already being unpacked and organized when you got there.

On the first day of rehab, you both were instructed to stay in your rooms for the day. You both complied, sitting on your beds on different sides of the room.

But you didn’t say anything to your roommate—nor did he say anything to you, the only noise coming from him being incoherent mumbling. You suspected maybe he was going through withdrawals or something.