Illness tells us what we are – Italian Proverb

I stepped off the plane into the terminal, a messenger bag hanging at my side with my CD player inside, the headphone cord leading up to my neck, where I'd set them. I saw Jack across the way, walking towards a man in a bright blue shirt, with khaki pants and a clipboard. Upon closer inspection I could see that on the right corner "Whispering Pines" was embroidered into the shirt. Figuring this was my destination, I approached the man who stared at me blankly for a moment.

"Name's Jayce Taylor. Am I on your list?" I said, pointing to the clipboard. He checked it and nodded. "All right, let's get this show on the road, I need to get there and fix my hair."

He glared at me, obviously annoyed by something about me, and I had a feeling it was my flamboyance. "We're waiting for the rest of the guests."

"Inmates," Jack said under his breath, coughing. I smiled, realizing how cute his whole rebel-without-a-cause act was. But don't get me wrong, this isn't some wayward love story of a gay boy falling for a straight boy. And Jack didn't seem like the relationship type anyway; he probably spent every night in a different girl's bed. But that's all just speculation really, for all I know he could have been married. Listen, the point of this paragraph was that I wasn't going to fall in love with this guy. No, it would be a very different boy that caught my heart. But now I'm getting ahead of myself.

I looked up and saw another girl walking towards us. She looked a couple years older than me, maybe. Twenty-one tops, but that would be surprising. She had on a short black kilt, a style of skirt I'd noticed to be quite popular that year, and a red shirt. A black messenger bag was strapped across her body, and I noted that every heterosexual man within a fifty mile radius was probably drawn to her chest.

So I wasn't all that surprised when Jack called out, "So, Theory, back so soon?" and then pulled her into a tight embrace. He kissed her quickly and spun her around. I couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous watching them. I had only had one relationship in the past year, and it wasn't exactly that positive of an experience.

"Wait, Jack," the girl, who I assumed was Theory, said, suddenly serious. "Why are you back here? Have you been relapsing?" I glanced at her and noted concern lingering behind her sparkling sapphire eyes that hid underneath sections of straight, layered brown hair that framed her face. She stared, waiting for an answer.

"No, MOTHER. I'm just checking back in to keep myself from relapsing. And, of course, to see you." He picked her up into another hug, his arms clinging to her like his life preserver – and maybe she was. She fought against him for a moment until he set her down, both with wide smiles on their faces. He subtly placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before whispering into her ear.

Her smile widened just a bit, as if screws had been let out to allow the maximum possible smile. "Nice to know you still feel the same; but seriously – not in front of the staff. I can't lose this job, it's hard to find another work opportunity when you were too doped up to take your SATs all four times you were supposed to." After a moment she glanced in my direction, as if noticing me for the first time – which was probably the case, she was completely absorbed in Jack. "And who is this handsome young man, Kelly?"

Jack looked back in my direction. I hate it when people talk about me as if I'm not there. "I'm Dutchy," I said, taking the intiative in order to prove my conversational competence. "And I take it your name is Theory?"

"Well, Ashton really, but that's my nickname. Call me what you will. For instance, Jacky-boy here tends to prefer 'sex goddess,' but that's just him." She smirked as Jack fumbled to cover up what was obviously a great story I'd have to ask someone about later. "Anyway, what're you in here for?"

And thus began the discussion I was sure we'd have many more times after this, explaining what exactly it was that we'd done to get locked up. Jack and his alcohol, Theory and her previous drug problems, me and my – well, me and my everything.

"Anyone else coming, Mr. Snyder?" Theory asked the man with the clipboard. "Or can we be off now?"

The man seemed annoyed that a girl whom he found so unfit for society – he was certainly glaring at her scarred arms – was attempting to do his job for him. "This is everyone. Now c'mon, let's get going. Mr. Kelly and Miss Oxford can explain the rules to you en route, Mr. Taylor."

When the three of us were seated and belted into the back of the van, the two veterans began to brief me on the "Code of Conduct" at Whispering Pines.

"The rules are as follows," Jack said, sounding an awful lot like the headmaster at the Catholic school I'd been booted out of two years ago for being gay. "Any person caught on premises with ANY harmful substance – be it their own vice or that belonging to someone else – they will be immediately expelled from the program and once again sent to court."

"Because we all know that when people have drug problems it's in their best interest to send them away from rehab, now isn't it?" Theory said with an edge of hatred in her voice. "Anyway, moving on… Inappropriate conduct between guests is strictly prohibited. Boys must stay in the 2nd story hallway and girls must stay in the 3rd floor hall."

"Other than that, you'll just have to figure it out on your own, because I don't really care if you know them or not," Jack said, then turned away from me, obviously not too hot on the concept of going back to Whispering Pines.

I noticed him staring at my highlights and glitter for a large percentage of the first half-hour of the drive, prompting me to question him about it. "What're ya staring at?" Hey, I never said I was eloquent.

"You're just so… so… gay." Hell, he might beat me out for the prize in eloquence. When he saw the blank look on my face he hurried to cover it up. "That's – that's not how I – I meant you're really open about… Hell, don't take that offensively."

Theory interrupted this almost painful display at this point in an effort to save Jack's last shred of dignity. "What my idiotic comrade is trying to say is that Whispering Pines isn't exactly the most accepting of different people," she said with strategically chosen words.

"You'd make one good lawyer, you know that?" I told her. I didn't know what else to say. I wasn't offended, exactly, but I'd never really considered that I would have to watch myself here as much as I watched myself at school. I mean, aren't druggies supposed to be accepted of people's differences? It's not like they're model citizens. "But thanks for letting me know ahead of time. I'll just roll with the punches though, eh?"

"Just le me know if you need to borrow more, um, masculine clothes," Jack offered awkwardly. I didn't give him a look because I knew how uncomfortable it made him, and because I knew he meant the offer seriously and well. Who knew, perhaps someday I really would need it.

"We're here!" the man shouted from the driver's seat as he parked the van in a large concrete lot. Multiple spaces were left empty, so it was obvious there weren't too many people coming in on this particular day. "Now get your stuff and get in there," he said gruffly. He picked up a couple bags and I noted that he intentionally grabbed those of Theory and Jack, leaving me to carry all of my own. Theory definitely wasn't lying about the homophobia thing, was she?

But whatever, it wasn't as if I hadn't grown accustomed to these sorts of things. And I really never concerned myself with other people's thoughts on any aspect of me, especially my sexual orientation; quite a bit more stress pertained to what they were planning to do about my drug problems. I searched the hallway, and everyone's eyes seemed to be dead, so obviously craving an escape into the wonderful world of vices. This was going to be a long three months, I told myself, wondering why I'd ever picked up that phone in the first place.

Before I knew it I had managed to locate room 311 the police code for indecent exposure – hot and hastily knocked on the standard issue rehabilitation white door. "Kallias?" I called, attempting to pronounce the bizarre Greek name of my new roommate as I stared at the piece of paper in my hand where it was written.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm in here," rang out from inside the room, followed efficiently with a "what do you want?" I could tell he was probably still lying on his bed which I imagined would be a standard mental institution style bed and making no move to let me into the room we would share.

"It's Jayce," I informed him. When he didn't respond, I continued, "Your new roommate."

Feet shuffled and locks clicked before the door flung open to reveal Kallias Diopolus, the boy I would be living with for the next three months. After catching sight of him, however, I suddenly did not mind so much. His dark hair formed adorable – well, I don't know what the word for them is. They weren't curls so much as waves. Whatever they were, they were gorgeous, as was his chiseled face beneath the round glasses he was wearing. He was dressed relatively nicely, a well-ironed button down and some pricey jeans, and I could tell he was probably one of those high-end pretty-boy cocaine addicts who finally got caught by the police and were only here to prevent it from marring their parent's society appearances. And yet, a haunting history was evident in his eyes, in the way his lips weren't quite able to smile. Hopefully, within the following three months – preferably on the earlier side of that – I might come to understand why.

But, snapping back to reality… So Kallias showed off our room, which looked a lot like a cross between a college dorm and a hospital – pretty much what I'd predicted. The walls are all ER white, as are the bed sheets, but there was a small private bathroom and a kitchenette in the room as well. I didn't really know what to make of it, actually. Most of the time you can tell a lot about a place by its bedrooms, but they didn't seem to want to give anything away ahead of time.

"So, truly, how bad is it?" I asked Kallias as I set my suitcases down on the unoccupied bed. Sitting down on the bare mattress I continued, "I mean, you figure it'd be total hell, since its rehab and all, but I'm being a bit of an optimist and hoping it's tolerable. Jack didn't seem to hate being back."

Kallias seemed to have a bit of a grin on his face, "Jack came back? Knew he couldn't stay away. Then again, I talked to him a couple days ago and he said he was clean – so I don't know if when he said he relapsed he really did. That would be hard to believe." With that his half-smile grew, until he continued, "Want the truth about Whispering Pines, though? Atrocious."

"Wait, Kallias, but then why would he come back?"

"First off, don't call me Kallias. I'm not exactly on good terms with the people that gave me that name. I much prefer Specs. But that aside, Jack came back because he's entirely in love with Theory, and she works here. When he left a while back we told him he wouldn't last six months without coming back for her. And, of course, we were right."

He paused for a while and it was quite evident that there should have been an awkward silence ensuing. But instead, I felt completely at ease being stuck in this room with a stranger. Of course, it did help that he was an insanely attractive stranger. "But either way, it's time for group counseling right now, so we'd better head out."

And thus began my first day of rehab…

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A/N: I still haven't gotten to the part where it's really going to start to change, but I am still hoping this is better. And, unlike when I first started rewriting this, I actually intend to finish it. Oh, and this isn't relevant that much except to later chapters, but I got rid of all of the CC characters that I don't actually know because I wasn't sure how people I got information from two years ago would feel about me continuing to use their characters, so don't get upset that I cut you, I cut everyone.