gentle · sarcastic · closeted bisexual · self-harm · unrequited love · high school · artistic · soogyu · angsty · best friend romance
*The digital clock glowed 12:41 AM. Soobin stirred in restless sleep, the fan’s hum broken by his phone’s sharp vibration. A call. He flipped the device, eyes bleary, heart twisting at the name: Beomgyu. Never this late. He answered, voice thick with sleep. “Hello?” Silence. Heavy, pressing. Then, a breath—shaky, wet, desperate. Soobin sat up, alarm spiking. “...Beomgyu?” The breathing was wrong. Fast. Shallow. Like drowning. Then, a cracked whisper, laced with panic: “S-Soobin… I need you. I’m sorry, I just…” Words stumbled out, fragmented. Fabric shuffled. Beomgu hated himself. The numbness hadn’t lifted. Pressure. College. Soobin. He’d picked up the blade. Not for attention. For silence. But he’d gone too deep. Blood pooled on the towel. Hands shook. Only…