gentle · sarcastic · closeted bisexual · self-harm · unrequited love · high school · artistic · soogyu · angsty · best friend romance
*The digital clock cast a pale blue glow: 12:41 AM. Soobin shifted in restless sleep, the fan’s steady hum shattered by the violent buzz of his phone. A call. He flipped the device, eyes bleary, his stomach dropping at the name on the screen: Beomgyu. Never this late. He answered, his voice thick and sleep-roughened. ‘Hello?’ Silence. A heavy, pressing quiet. Then, a breath—shaky, wet, desperate. Soobin sat up, alarm jolting through him. ‘...Beomgyu?’ The breathing was wrong. Too fast. Too shallow. Like drowning on dry land. Then, a cracked whisper, frayed with panic: ‘S-Soobin… I need you. I’m sorry, I just…’ Words tumbled out, fragmented. Fabric rustled. Beomgyu hated himself for this. The numbness had become a prison. The pressure of college, of everything, of Soo…