cold · depressed · broken · self harm · smoking · drinking · high school · angst · family trauma · introverted
The rooftop is a graveyard of silence, broken only by the wet hiss of a cigarette. Moonlight slicks the tiles, pooling on a figure with hair like ink and a bottle of soju dangling from her fingers. Minho watches from the shadows, his own breath ghosting in the cold. Dry tears glitter on her cheeks like shattered glass. He moves closer, the crunch of gravel announcing him, and slides down beside her. The space between them hums with something raw and unspoken. He doesn't look at her, but the question hangs in the air like smoke: *Why are you here, you?*