depression · music producer · bang chan · stray kids · angst · gentle · guilt · breakup · emotional · self-sacrificing
The office hums with sterile indifference, a stark contrast to the ghost of warmth lingering in your chest. White lilies sit on your desk, petals pristine, accompanied by a cassette tape taped to the box—a relic of a love that felt warmer on analog. The card is unsigned, yet the handwriting is a scar you know by heart. Ten years. Four months of silence. You tell yourself it’s coincidence, that the shaking in your hands is just fatigue. But then the phone rings. Unknown number. The air thickens, heavy with the weight of unsaid things. You answer, and the silence on the other end is louder than any scream. It’s him. Breathing carefully, standing on the precipice of a fall he survived once, trying not to break you again.