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"I bled for him, onto him, and in that crimson flood, I found both my ruin and my salvation."
As they arrived back from the trip, Yotha let out a soft sigh, glancing at the dorm building ahead. The trip had been… emotional. For once, they’d opened up to each other, truly opened up. Gun had said he’d wait for him, that he wasn’t going anywhere. It had been reassuring, comforting even, but now, as they stood in front of the building, Yotha couldn’t help but feel that uneasy knot tightening in his chest again.
Gun was unloading a small bag from the trunk, his movements casual, as if the trip hadn’t shaken him as much as it had shaken Yotha.
"You both rest now, okay?", Arm said as Yotha hug him. He was really thankful for Arm's help otherwise he would have been really lost
"Thanks P'Arm", He whisper as Arm pat his back
Gun also said bye to Arm, who left from there cheerfully. Watching him, Yotha tried to gather his courage. After all, Gun had promised, right? Promised he wasn’t leaving. Promised he’d wait.
“Shall I help you with shifting your stuff… in our room?” Yotha asked, his voice steady, but only because he forced it to be. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his nails digging into his palms.
Gun paused, glancing at him briefly before shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll move right now.”
Yotha blinked. “Oh.” The word slipped out before he could stop it, small and uncertain
Gun seemed to notice the change in tone, but he only smiled softly, as if trying to reassure Yotha. “I don’t want to trouble Faifa or Kong. They’ve already shifted rooms so many times because of me. I think it’s better this way.”
Yotha nodded slowly, his lips curling into what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Yeah… makes sense,” he said lightly. “Don’t want to trouble them again.”
Gun’s smile widened, and he reached for his bag. “Exactly. Thanks for understanding.”
But Yotha didn’t really understand. Not completely. He wanted to, desperately, but no matter how much he tried to reason with himself, the voices in his head were louder. He doesn’t want to move back in with you. He doesn’t really forgive you. He just said those things to be nice. You’re still a burden.
He clenched his fists in his pockets, his nails digging deeper into his palms. He hated how easily his mind spiraled, hated how much weight those voices carried. Gun’s reasoning had made sense—it did—but it still stung. Before he could stop himself, the bitterness slipped out.
“So… Faifa’s better?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.
Gun froze for a moment, then chuckled, shaking his head as if the question was absurd. “No,” he replied simply, his tone casual, as if the idea itself was laughable.
That should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. The way Gun dismissed it so easily only made the voices louder. See? He doesn’t even feel the need to explain himself. It’s not worth it to him. He’s happy where he is.
But Yotha didn’t press further. Instead, he forced the bitterness away, plastering a smile on his face again.
“Good,” he said lightly, his tone even now. “Just making sure.”
Gun laughed softly, clearly not catching the tension behind Yotha’s words. “Don’t worry so much,” he said, grabbing his bag and heading toward the building. “Let’s get inside.”
Yotha followed silently, his steps steady, his face calm. But inside, he was spiraling. It’s fine. This is fine. He’s probably right. I’m overthinking this. He’s just being practical.
The thoughts didn’t stop there, though. They twisted and tangled, dragging him further into that familiar pit of insecurity. But if he really wanted to be with you, he’d make it work. Practicality wouldn’t matter. You wouldn’t matter. Faifa’s better—he always has been.
By the time they reached the dorm, Yotha had managed to bury the bitterness again, pushing it so deep inside that even he could barely feel it. He nodded at Gun as they reached the door, his smile easy and practiced now. “I’ll let you get settled,” he said casually. “See you later?”
“Yeah,” Gun said, flashing him another small smile before disappearing into Faifa’s room.
As the door closed behind him, Yotha stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway. His smile faltered, the tightness in his chest growing heavier with each passing second. He shook his head, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Don’t think about it. Don’t make it worse. He’s happy. That’s all that matters.
But as he turned to head back to his own room, the voices followed him, their cruel whispers echoing in his mind. You’ll never be enough.
Yotha dragged himself into his room, his steps heavy and slow. The air in the dorm felt stifling, like a thick blanket pressing down on him. When he pushed the door open, the silence greeted him—Kong wasn’t there. Of course, he wasn’t. Kong had probably gone out to give him some space after the trip, or maybe he was with Faifa, or even Gun. Yotha didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t care.
He dropped onto his bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. His gaze fell to the floor, his mind spiraling back to that one moment. *“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll move right now.”* Gun’s voice played on a loop, the words cutting deeper with every repetition. He hadn’t even hesitated. He didn’t even consider it.
Yotha ran a hand through his hair, gripping the strands tightly as if the slight sting would pull him out of his thoughts. It didn’t.
He replayed the scene again. The way Gun had smiled when he’d said it, so casual, so… unaffected. It had been nothing to him. A simple decision. Practical. Logical. Yotha knew it made sense. He knew Gun was trying to avoid causing trouble for Faifa and Kong. But that didn’t stop the ache in his chest. It didn’t stop the voices in his head.
He doesn’t want to be with you.
He’s happy with Faifa.
He forgave you because he’s kind, not because he wants you.
You’ll never be enough.
The thoughts grew louder, each one a knife slicing through his resolve. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do something to make it stop, but all he could do was sit there, his hands trembling in his lap.
His fingers twitched, his nails dragging lightly over the skin of his forearm. It was a distraction, a way to focus on something other than the chaos in his mind. But it wasn’t enough. He pressed harder, his nails digging into the flesh, leaving faint red marks in their wake.
Why do you always ruin things?
Why aren’t you good enough for him?
Why can’t you fix this?
The questions echoed in his mind, each one heavier than the last. His nails dug deeper, the sting spreading across his arm. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
He didn’t even realize he was scratching harder, his nails scraping against his skin with a force that would leave marks. The pain was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the voices. He pressed harder, his breathing growing uneven as he focused on the sensation.
Maybe if it hurts enough, the thoughts will stop.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in the cycle of pain and self-loathing. His arm burned, his nails now scraping raw skin, but he still couldn’t stop. Tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t wipe them away. He didn’t deserve to.
The door creaked open, breaking through the haze in his mind. He froze, his hand hovering over his arm as he turned to see Kong standing in the doorway.
Kong stepped inside, pausing as he glanced at Yotha sitting on the edge of the bed. Something about the way Yotha was hunched over, his shoulders tense and his head bowed, sent a wave of unease through Kong.
“Hey,” Kong greeted casually, tossing his bag onto his own bed. “You alright?”
Yotha quickly straightened, his head snapping up as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp, a little too fast.
Kong narrowed his eyes, his instincts kicking in. “You don’t look alright,” he said, hesitating
“I’m fine,” Yotha insisted, forcing a tight smile onto his face. He shifted on the bed, subtly tugging his sleeves down further to hide the angry red marks on his arm. “Just tired.”
Kong didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he sat down on his bed, leaning back against the wall as he observed Yotha. The silence in the room was thick, and Kong couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
According to what Gun told, Yotha should be in good mood but this is completely opposite. He couldn't understand Yotha at all.
Yotha stood abruptly, his movements stiff. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, avoiding Kong’s gaze as he made his way toward the bathroom.
Kong watched him go, his brows furrowing. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice laced with concern.
“I said I’m fine,” Yotha snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. He froze in the doorway, his back to Kong, before letting out a shaky breath. “Sorry. I’m just… tired.”
Kong nodded slowly, though the knot of worry in his chest only grew. “Alright,” he said, his tone cautious. “But if something’s wrong, you can tell me. Even though Gun is my best friend,you are also my friend now.You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Yotha murmured, not turning around. “I know.”
He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The moment he was alone, he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. The sound of the running water filled the small space, but it did nothing to drown out the noise in his head.
You’re such a mess.
You’re ruining everything again.
Even Kong can tell something’s wrong.
You’re pathetic.
Yotha gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles turning white. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes red and puffy from crying. The sleeves of his shirt were still pulled down, but he could feel the sting of the scratches on his arm beneath the fabric.
He peeled the sleeves back slowly, wincing as the fabric brushed against the raw marks. His arm was a mess of angry red lines, some of them deeper than he realized. He didn’t mean to go that far, but once he started, he couldn’t stop.
You deserve this.
It’s your fault Gun doesn’t want to move back in.
You’re the problem.
The thoughts swirled in his mind, each one more vicious than the last. He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over his arm. The sting made him flinch, but he welcomed the pain. It was a distraction, something to focus on other than the chaos in his head.
He stayed in the bathroom longer than necessary, hoping that by the time he came out, Kong would drop the subject. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to explain why he couldn’t get Gun’s hesitant “no” out of his head.
When he finally emerged, Kong was still sitting on his bed, his arms crossed as he stared at the floor. He looked up as Yotha stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“You sure you’re okay?” Kong asked again, his voice filled with panic
It was weird to see him all serious
Yotha forced another smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I told you, I’m fine.”
Kong didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. “Alright,” he said slowly, his tone heavy with doubt.
Yotha climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin as he turned to face the wall. His back was to Kong, but he could feel the other’s eyes on him, watching him closely.
The silence in the room was suffocating, and Yotha’s mind was anything but quiet. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts to go away, but they only grew louder.
Kong let out a sigh, the sound breaking through the tension. “If you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s fine,” he said, his voice soft. “But don’t keep it all to yourself, okay? Whatever it is, you don’t have to deal with it alone.”
Yotha didn’t respond, his throat tightening as tears welled up in his eyes again. He bit his lip, trying to keep quiet, but a shaky breath escaped him.
Yotha hated how much he wanted to believe Kong’s words, how much he wanted to believe that he wasn’t alone. But the voices in his head were louder, drowning out everything else.
You’re always alone.
It’s better this way.
No one can hurt you if you don’t let them in
Yotha clenched his fists under the covers, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore. But he didn’t know how to stop.
Yotha finally drifted off to sleep, his exhaustion pulling him under despite the chaos in his mind. The room was silent except for the soft sound of Kong’s movements as he tidied up his desk. Yotha’s breathing evened out, but his sleep was anything but peaceful.
In his dream, the bar was alive with noise and chaos. The dim lighting flickered, the air heavy with the smell of alcohol and sweat. He had exit the bar with Gun who didn't seemed that lively .He was awfully quiet which bothered Yotha.
Until someone decided to attack him, breaking his chain of thoughs.His chest burned with anger, and his heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through his veins.
“Back off,” Yotha growled, his voice low and threatening.
One of the men laughed, stepping closer. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”
The next moment was a blur of movement and sound. Yotha swung his fist, connecting with the man’s jaw, but the fight quickly spiraled out of control. He was outnumbered, and the punches came from all directions. He could feel the sharp sting of knuckles against his face, the dull ache of blows landing on his ribs.
And then, through the chaos, he heard Gun’s voice.
“Stop it!” Gun shouted, his tone filled with panic.
Yotha turned, his heart dropping as he saw Gun standing just a few feet away, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear. “Gun, stay back!” Yotha yelled, his voice desperate.
But it was too late. One of the men turned and shoved Gun hard, sending him stumbling back. Gun tripped over a chair, falling to the ground with a pained gasp. Yotha’s blood ran cold as he saw Gun clutching his arm, his face contorted in pain.
“Gun!” Yotha screamed, rushing to his side.
But before he could reach him, another blow landed on the back of his head, sending him crashing to the floor. The world spun, and the voices around him blurred together.
When he looked up again, he saw Faifa standing over him, his face twisted with anger.
“Do you see what you’ve done?” Faifa spat, his voice dripping with venom.
“You’re a disaster, Yotha. You can’t even protect Gun without making everything worse.”
Yotha’s heart sank as he looked at Gun, who was now sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself as he stared at Yotha with wide, terrified eyes.
“Gun,” Yotha whispered, reaching out a trembling hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t,” Gun cut him off, his voice shaking.
“Don’t come near me.”
The words hit Yotha like a physical blow, and he recoiled as if he’d been slapped.
“You’re dangerous,” Faifa continued, his voice cold. “You don’t deserve to be around him. You don’t deserve anything.”
Yotha’s chest tightened, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the voices around him grew louder, blending into an overwhelming cacophony. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but he felt paralyzed, trapped in the nightmare.
---
Yotha jolted awake, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and his hands trembled as he gripped the sheets tightly. The room was dark, the only light coming from the small lamp on Kong’s desk.
For a moment, he couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming. The weight of the nightmare clung to him, the images of Gun’s terrified face and Faifa’s cruel words replaying in his mind.
He looked around the room, his eyes landing on Kong, who was fast asleep in his bed. The silence was deafening, and Yotha felt a crushing sense of loneliness wash over him.
He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he tried to steady his breathing. But the voices in his head wouldn’t stop.
You’re dangerous.
You’re a failure.
You don’t deserve him.
Yotha bit his lip, tears welling up in his eyes as he fought to keep quiet. He didn’t want to wake Kong. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.
He pressed his face against his knees, his body trembling as he silently sobbed. The nightmare felt too real, and he couldn’t shake the fear that it wasn’t just a dream.
What if Gun really thought that?
What if Faifa was right?
The thought made his chest ache, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to run, to escape the suffocating weight of his thoughts, but there was nowhere to go.
Yotha tried but he couldn’t sleep. The nightmare still clung to him, suffocating him in its grip. His body was drenched in sweat, his hands trembling as he clutched the thin blanket over him.
He felt trapped, the images of Gun in pain, Faifa’s cold words, and his own helplessness playing over and over in his mind.
He sat up, his breaths shaky as he looked around the dark room. Kong was sound asleep, his soft snores filling the silence. Yotha’s eyes darted to the door, a sudden urge to leave the room overwhelming him.
I need to see him. I need to know he’s okay.
The thought repeated in his head, loud and insistent. He couldn’t shake the fear that Gun was hurt, that something had happened while he wasn’t there to protect him. His insecurities whispered cruel thoughts, feeding his panic.
What if he’s angry at me? What if Faifa told him to stay away from me? What if… what if I’m really not enough for him?
Yotha shook his head, trying to silence the voices. But they were relentless, tearing at the fragile walls he had built around himself.
Before he could second-guess himself, Yotha swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He slipped out of the room quietly, not wanting to wake Kong. The dorm hallway was silent, dimly lit by the faint glow of the emergency lights.
Yotha’s footsteps were hesitant as he made his way to Gun and Faifa’s room. His heart pounded in his chest, his palms sweaty as he reached the door. He stared at it for a moment, debating whether to knock.
But then he twisted the knob, relieved to find the door unlocked. The room was dark, the soft sound of breathing letting him know that both Gun and Faifa were asleep.
Yotha’s gaze immediately found Gun, who was lying on his side, his face turned toward the wall. He looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Yotha’s heart clenched at the sight, a wave of guilt washing over him.
He deserves better than me.
Without thinking, Yotha stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. He moved toward Gun’s bed, his steps quiet and careful. Faifa was on the other bed, sleeping soundly, oblivious to Yotha’s presence.
Yotha knelt beside Gun’s bed, his hands trembling as he reached out hesitantly. He didn’t want to wake him, but he needed to be close. He needed to feel Gun’s warmth, to remind himself that Gun was okay.
Slowly, Yotha climbed onto the bed, lying down beside Gun. He curled up next to him, his body trembling as silent tears streamed down his face.
“I’m sorry,” Yotha whispered, his voice barely audible.
The words felt heavy on his tongue, each one laced with pain and regret.
“I’m sorry for everything,” he continued, his voice breaking. “For being so selfish, for causing you pain. I’m sorry I’m not enough.”
Gun stirred slightly in his sleep, but he didn’t wake. Yotha held his breath, afraid of disturbing him.
The room was silent except for the sound of Yotha’s quiet sniffles. He buried his face in Gun’s shoulder, his tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.
“I just… I just want to make you happy,” Yotha whispered. “But I don’t know how.”
His laid himself bare in Front of Gun, the walls he had carefully constructed around his heart crumbling under the weight of his emotions.
Yotha stayed like that for a long time, his tears gradually subsiding as the exhaustion took over. His body felt heavy, his mind a swirling mess of thoughts and fears.
Eventually, his breathing evened out, and he drifted off to sleep, his face still pressed against Gun’s shoulder.
< Need CH 2 with Gun comforting Yotha? >