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No sobs escaped from his body, only trembling breaths. Breaths filled with desperation, longing, and frustration. The emptiness that had swallowed his mind whole once again was all too familiar, yet the dull sting it left behind still hurt. His fingers curled and uncurled at his side in a repetitive motion, searching for some form of grounding.
This had happened many times before and would continue to happen each night, his body and mind at war with their own respective wishes.
Beomgyu bit his lip hard, trying to stifle any sounds he might make. For all he knew, Choi Soobin could be standing right outside his door at this very moment. It happened sometimes. Sometimes, when Beomgyu felt down, Soobin would find him. Just like that, as if he had some kind of special senses that alerted him.
Forcing himself to calm down in order to prevent being walked in on, Beomgyu dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, forming indents of little crescent moons. They didn’t bleed, nor leave a long-lasting imprint, but it brought him back to his senses — even if only a little. Tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, he blew out a breath between his teeth. He was okay, at least, that’s what he liked telling himself.
Ever so slowly, the unstable breaths fell back into something softer, something more manageable. His lungs were finally functioning to their full capacity once more, and the world seemed a little clearer. Only now he noticed the cramps that wracked through his hands, the result of his desperate efforts to calm himself. Yet, it didn’t hurt at all compared to the emptiness that he was drowning in.
No, he didn’t want these stable breaths, nor these functioning lungs. All he needed was one thing — he was sure of it; his escape. Salvation would only find him once he stopped breathing, a constant reminder in the back of his mind that only death could ever set him free, he didn’t want stable breaths.
None of the other members ever noticed his struggles, as far as he knew. That was until the tabloids.
The tabloids never missed a chance to jump popular idols and spread rumors about them, no matter whether they were true or not. It was bound to happen. And like any idol, Beomgyu had received training on how to deal with situations like these. That didn’t make it any easier though, when he found a picture of himself staring into the camera with red-rimmed eyes captioned: ”TOMORROW X TOGETHER’S CHOI BEOMGYU accused of mistreating staff.”
Great. Just what he needed.
They were on tour, currently at their hotel, and the news would spread like a wildfire — this Beomgyu knew from previous experiences. However, he had never been targeted directly before, it had always been group things. Like the many times they had been accused of lip syncing. Those didn’t matter. This rumor, however, did. The sensation was odd, strangely scary, and humiliating.
In some faraway country, on their third world tour, Beomgyu locked himself in the bathroom of his hotel room before sinking to the floor. His knees were pulled up to his chest in an instant to offer some shelter, from what he didn’t know. The tabloids weren’t physical, they couldn’t harm the body he was in — only his mentality.
Right when he thought he couldn’t possibly get any worse, the rumors dragged him down even further. If they weren’t proven false any time soon, they might have dragged his career down as well, and with that, maybe, the entirety of the group. Because how dare his members hang out with someone like him?
These thoughts, he knew, were not rational. But they kept him up nonetheless. He traced the figures on the tiles of the bathroom floor until late hours of the night, to the point where his eyes burned and his throat felt dry and his skin looked like he had been suffering from xerosis for a fat minute now. Sleep tried taking him, but Beomgyu stubbornly refused. For his own honor, he had to sit there and stare all night until he physically couldn’t go any longer, he promised himself.
Another failed mission, because when he blinked his eyes a couple of times, trying to get rid of a blur that had suddenly overtaken his vision, the worried features of Soobin’s face sketched the sight in front of him. After taking a shuddering breath, the feeling that he’d lost along the way returned to his body, and he took notice of a damp towel on his forehead.
“Hey, Gyu-ya? Are you with me?” Soobin squeezed his shoulder as gently as he could, considering his freakishly large hands that could probably squeeze a puppy to death. Not that Soobin ever would, squeeze a puppy to death. He wouldn’t.
Yes, Beomgyu was with him. He tried voicing his affirmation, but his throat was still as dry as a desert and all that came out was a sluggish garble. Well, there goes his confident and carefree image. He cleared his throat a few times, despite the burn it brought, and finally managed to speak up, “Hi, Soobin-hyung.”
The question that Soobin asked him shattered his world. It was so obviously a Gyu question, reserved just for him. Soobin wouldn’t ever ask Yeonjun, Taehyun, or Kai the same question. The realization hit Beomgyu in the gut like a ton of bricks, and he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. Maybe he’d been too obvious.
“Did you take anything?” in a very soft, gentle voice. There was no judgement behind it, no pity either, just plain concern. Concern that Beomgyu didn’t like, not one bit. He hated worrying his members, Soobin especially, considering how much the leader had on his plate already. He hated that he was the cause of even more worries.
“No,” his voice was clearer now, more believable. Because it was the truth, he didn’t take anything. Sure, he’d dreamt of it, imagined doing it, fantasized about the process and the aftermath. But he didn’t do it, he didn’t take anything.
The damp towel on his forehead was removed and replaced with warm hands, cradling his face like it was fragile and precious. All of a sudden the attention felt too overwhelming, too piercing, and maybe it brought him back to reality too much. It felt weird after dissociating from the real world, this world, for so long. The bathroom lights were on, and blinding at that, the door was ajar, Beomgyu thought he locked it, and Soobin was real.
When Soobin offered him a hand to help him stand up, he jokingly slapped it away before scrambling upright by himself. With a fake laugh and a witty remark he eased Soobin’s worries, minimally, “I’m fine, Soobin-hyung,” he grinned, dragging out the ‘fine.’ Although Soobin knew that he wasn’t, and Beomgyu knew that he knew.
With a concerned Soobin trailing behind him, he padded back into the bedroom. Unlike before, the lights were now on, no longer supporting the hollow feeling that had made itself at home in his chest so long ago. He figured Soobin had expected to find him in the bedroom — because really, who would willingly spend their free time on the bathroom floor?
As Beomgyu sat down on the bed he risked taking a glance at Soobin. The look on his face made his skin itch, like he’d fallen into a bush of stinging nettles. Soobin looked hopeless, to say the least, and it was safe to say Beomgyu had never seen him like this before. Soobin who was usually so vibrant, confident, and determined. The bed dipped next to him and Soobin’s hand landed on his thigh. It was warm, too warm, and Beomgyu cracked his neck to suppress the odd feeling.
“I’m assuming you saw?” Soobin tried carefully, his hand now slowly rubbing up and down Beomgyu’s thigh. He still wasn’t looking at him, and he wasn’t planning on it either. If he just stayed quiet for long enough, maybe Soobin would give up and go away and pretend this never happened and all would be fine again the next morning.
Logically, he knew that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Soobin wasn’t a quitter, which proved true when he spoke up again after only a few seconds of silence between them, “Beomgyu, talk to me.”
With a mean glare and a heavy sigh, Beomgyu shoved his hand off of his thigh, signalling that he didn’t want to talk. Signalling that he had indeed seen. Maybe he didn’t use his words, trying to be as stubborn as ever, but Soobin knew him better than anyone else. He saw straight through him, words or not, and received exactly the thoughts which were on his mind. How exactly he did that, Beomgyu wasn’t too sure of either. Maybe it was a leader thing, being able to read minds, being able to get under Beomgyu’s skin.
“They’re just tabloids. You know that they’re just rumors, Beomgyu. None of it is true. You, especially, should know that. The members know that, the staff knows it. And the fans will come around once the rumors get debunked. Stop worrying that head of yours, Gyu,” Soobin spoke softly, carefully, all too aware that one wrong word would send Beomgyu spiraling even more.
A few more seconds passed with Beomgyu refusing to speak at all, eventually turning into minutes. It was such a stupid game, to see who would give in first. Whether Soobin would give up and leave or whether Beomgyu would crumble and cry. The sound of city life bustling outside the hotel filled the room, cars honking and speeding, driven by people who had probably already seen the headlines.
It was Beomgyu who gave in first, “Why did you have to ask me whether I took something or not?” his voice was sharp, accusing. The question was offtopic, not irrelevant, and Soobin ran his hands through his hair like the answer could end their friendship, their careers, and possibly their lives.
“Gyu,” Soobin began, already sounding exhausted, “How do I say this?”
Finally looking up at him, Beomgyu narrowed his eyes. He felt betrayed, hurt, and most of all woeful that he had to be the token burden in their group. It was so obvious, plain as day. The other members only ever checked whether Beomgyu had eaten all of his food or not, the other members only ever checked whether Beomgyu’s smile was genuine or not, and the list just went on and on.
Before he could speak his mind though, Soobin continued, “I just worry. For all of you, I worry all the time. But maybe I’m mostly worried about you. You’ve been feeling off lately, but I didn’t know how to approach you about it since you haven’t been acting a whole lot differently. It was just a gut feeling, which got me more worried than usual.”
The words snapped something inside of Beomgyu, something fragile. His defensive walls were back up within a matter of seconds, and all he wanted was for Soobin’s prying eyes to leave him alone. He needed to pretend that he was fine. The tabloids didn’t bother him, he had never been happier, Soobin should stop worrying so much.
“I’m going to bed,” he mumbled, facing away from Soobin and getting under the covers. He just prayed Soobin would turn off the lights when he left, or he wouldn’t ever be able to sleep again.
A moment of silence stretched. Then, he felt Soobin getting up from the bed. His footsteps sounded light, but underneath was a heavy layer of troubles. The click of the lightswitch sounded, and the room was no longer flooded in light. As the darkness creeped back in, Beomgyu shut his eyes tightly to try and get rid of it for now. He genuinely wanted a good night’s rest, just this once. He was so immersed in trying to block out any harmful thoughts that he didn’t notice Soobin making his way back to the bed. That familiar dip came again, and a warm body joined his under the covers.
Soobin didn’t touch him, didn’t say anything, realizing that Beomgyu needed space. But at the same time, he wanted to let the younger one know that he was right there, and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. They laid there together into the late hours of the night. Soobin refused to get some shuteye, not until he heard Beomgyu’s breathing evening out. That’s when he finally allowed himself to rest as well.
And when morning came, and Beomgyu felt an embarrassed flush creep upon his cheeks at the realization that Soobin had watched over him all night, neither of them mentioned it.
The lights blared down on him, as if they were trying to pierce through his skull purposefully. With all his might, he blinked their harshness away and gathered himself back up. Sweat was dripping down his neck, causing a tickling sensation. Yet, he couldn’t acknowledge it, refused to acknowledge it, when he needed to push himself further.
He needed to push himself further, as far as possible. He didn’t care if he dropped dead on the spot, if this body would collapse under the trembling weight of his self destructing soul. If he just ran that extra mile, and maybe another ten, maybe his mind would quiet down a little. Only if he was really lucky though, only then would every fiber in his body stop telling him to go slit his own wrists.
The music seemed to be getting louder with each passing second, pushing a breakthrough of the sound barrier. The bass had the floor shaking, but he was up. Up and dancing, rerunning their choreography for the nth time. Somewhere during the motions, he’d zoned out. Not really was he trying to improve his details of movements, he was trying to wear himself out.
His members had long given up, taken a break, a word that did not exist in Beomgyu’s book. Some of them were slumped against the wall, others were on the floor and panting hard. They were sipping on water, trying to recharge, wiping the sweat off of their foreheads. Beomgyu didn’t realize that they were talking to him, telling him to stop. He didn’t realize that, not until the music suddenly stopped playing and the only sounds in the room were the sluggish stomping of his feet and his harsh breathing.
With a snap of his neck, he whipped his head around to find whoever broke his daze. His eyes zeroed in on Yeonjun, standing next to the stereo and looking somewhat guilty, somewhat angry. His clothes were disheveled and the water bottle he was holding was almost empty and the gaze he directed at Beomgyu was – as if he could see right through him.
There it was again, that pitiful call of his name, as if something else might break him. The sound made a shiver crawl down his back, even if it was softer and more gentle than the blasting music had ever been. It didn’t exist to hurt him, but to comfort him, which might’ve been worse.
“Gyu,” it was definitely worse, “take a break.”
Beomgyu’s shoulders dropped, but his attitude never let up. His mindset was strong like that, he’d been indoctrinating himself for months now. To never give up, to wreck himself, his motives were his oxygen. And if he couldn’t fulfill them, if he failed himself in a way that could simultaneously save him, he would hurt himself in other ways. Not that his members knew of this, he hoped they didn’t.
“I can’t,” was his short but sweet response. A small trot over to the stereo and a push to a worn-down button had the music playing again, continuing where he’d left off. Second verse, some song of which he couldn’t recall the name at that moment, it didn’t matter. With the music playing, he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, he couldn’t hear Yeonjun yelling at him or Taehyun and Soobin worriedly whispering about his wellbeing. He danced, and he spiraled.
When a strong arm — strong because the body it belonged to had rested — wrapped around his bicep, it made him stop dead in his tracks. The sudden pause made him dizzy, his body felt weak, and he reached out for the hand that was holding onto him. With the little strength he had left, he allowed for Yeonjun to walk him over to where the other members were resting, and let himself be lowered to the floor as well.
Something was pressed into hands, he later recognized it as a juice box. With a frustrated exhale he slid it across the floor, towards the middle of the practice room. He didn’t need juice. At his action, voices sounded around him, but they were all muffled in his ears. He couldn’t focus on a thing, not when spots were dancing in his vision and his fingers were buzzing like wasps and his mouth felt dry and — and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
The other members panicked, shot up from their spots on the floor and scrambled over to the body of Beomgyu which had been moving until a second ago. It was weird seeing it lifeless, watching as it went limp and turned several shades paler. The pulse Kai found calmed them all down significantly, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough with the unmoving body of their fellow member in their middle.
“Jesus, fuck, Gyu–” Yeonjun’s voice broke. He held the body close, feeling the warmth slip away slowly. With delicate fingers, he brushed the bangs that were sticking to his sweaty forehead away. Of course, Beomgyu had pushed himself too far, he was aware of this. But it felt so wrong, terrifying, to have him in his arms and barely feel any weight. They all knew about Beomgyu’s overworking tendencies, they’d tried to get him to stop and they’d continue trying, but had he even been eating? At all?
“Soobin-ah, Soobin,” Yeonjun panicked. He needed reassurance, needed somebody to tell him that Beomgyu would live to see tomorrow. Soobin was good at that, Soobin usually did that. He picked up on Yeonjun’s pleas immediately, reaching out to feel Beomgyu’s pulse for himself.
“He’ll come to, it’s exhaustion,” Soobin sighed, “he’s overworked himself again.”
Again, because this had happened before. Again, because Beomgyu had fainted during dance practice once before already. The unspoken acknowledgement hung heavily in the air, all of them staring down at their sickly member. They all realized that he was getting worse, more caught up in killing himself slowly and trying to get away with it.
“We can’t let him keep doing this,” Taehyun mumbled. Before he could continue speaking, a soft gasp coming from his left caught everyone else’s attention. Kai had noticed movement, minimal, but it was definitely there. Beomgyu’s eyelids were twitching lightly, small sparks of hope lighting up in their chests. Next came a groan, which sounded painful, and then his eyes were open.
It hurt, when there were hands all over him and the lights seemed brighter than before and his members were exclaiming. Without meaning to, a pathetic whine slipped from his mouth. And then another, and another. His body shook, and he was crying out in pain, not in tears. He gasped when he felt he couldn’t breathe, stabbing him in the gut like a bunch of knives.
Although he’d achieved the goal of hurting himself, and his fragile body, he didn’t feel an inch of pride. Instead, he felt cold to the bone, ashamed of himself. With each tearless sob that tore itself throughout his body, he felt what was left of his self-image shattering right in front of his own eyes. Because his members were here, and they weren’t supposed to see him like this, this was another Gyu thing. No, his mental or physical breakdowns were between him and the walls of his bedroom, his members weren’t supposed to come into the picture anywhere.
They were scared, to say the least, watching their lively cheerful member crumble on the floor of the practice room. Of course, it was no secret that Beomgyu’s mental health wasn’t always optimal, but they had only seen it laid out in front of them once before. That was two years ago, when he crashed during music video recordings and he had to be supervised in order for him to not hurt himself.
That was two years ago. They assumed, or just hoped, that he was doing better now. The fact that he wasn’t was laid out in front of them now, plain and bare and as obvious as day, wrenching their hearts.
“Hey, hey,” Soobin tried, brushing Beomgyu’s bangs from out of his face, “breathe, Gyu. We’re here, you’re okay, just keep breathing.”
Right, he could breathe. His body was somehow still functioning, no matter the neglect, and able to breathe. With all of his might he took a stuttering breath, the harsh exhale sounding close to painful. It didn’t matter that his members were here, watching him at his lowest, he’d think of an excuse for his pitiful behavior later. For now, he needed to fill up his lungs with oxygen.
After another couple shaky breaths he got a manageable rhythm going, allowing the blood in his body to flow, and his ears picking up on an “That’s it, you’re doing so well aegiya,” from his Yeonjun hyung. The warm hand combing through his hair brought him back to earth, to the practice room surrounded by the people he loved most, and all of a sudden his mind was working again and he was wide-awake, trembling.
“Beomgyu-ya?” he snapped his head over to where the voice had come from, finding Soobin looking at him worriedly, “Are you okay? How’s your head?”
It took multiple croaks and attempts at clearing his throat for him to speak up with a soft yet rough voice, “I’m okay,” then meekly added a, “Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? Don’t apologize, not for this, please,” said Yeonjun from next to Soobin, who was still carding his fingers through Beomgyu’s dark locks. He needed a haircut, and probably a shower, but for now he leaned into the touch subtly.
From the corner of his eyes he noticed movement, Taehyun getting up from the floor and collecting something that was a couple feet away. Whatever the object was didn’t register in Beomgyu’s mind until the juice box from before was gently pressed into his open hands again, “And this time you’re drinking it.”
Knowing better than to argue at a moment like this, Beomgyu tore the straw off the side of the box and popped it into the straw hole. With small, delicate sips, he gulped down the juice. Although he still felt lightheaded and weak, it was almost as if the juice was giving him life, something to power his body with.
His members sat around him and didn’t say a word as they watched him drink the juice. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough, since none of them had seen him eat a full meal in weeks. But for now, he was drinking juice, and he was sitting upright, alive. It shouldn’t be a miracle, or a big deal, but it was.
When the dance instructor returned to the practice room, Soobin immediately got up to tell them what happened whilst they were gone. With a curt nod and a bite to the lip, Beomgyu was dismissed, even if he himself insisted on continuing to practice. Leaving no room for debate, Soobin hoisted him up from the floor by his elbow, and guided him out into the hallway.
Beomgyu watched as Soobin crossed his arms and adopted a serious look on his face, he knew he was in trouble. The members liked to joke and call said face his ‘leader mode,’ but Beomgyu felt he couldn’t crack that joke at this very moment. His back hit the wall as he tried putting space between the two of them, afraid of the words that were coming his way.
“Have you been eating? At all?” there it was.
One dismissive shrug and a stern look as a reply later Beomgyu spoke up, “Well, yeah, obviously. If I hadn’t been eating I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
“You weren’t standing a few minutes ago,” Soobin instantly bit back. He wasn’t angry, although it sounded like it. Instead, his words were fueled by concern and hopelessness that only a leader could possess. He cared for his members like they were worth gold, and he needed them up and running, if not for their own goodwill, for his.
“Maybe I haven’t been eating as well as I used to,” Beomgyu finally admitted, “But I promise you that I have been eating. There’s a possibility I’m coming down with something, that’s all.”
Soobin let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was more to this, he was sure of it, he just couldn’t place his finger on what. Beomgyu wasn’t coming down with something, he was hurting himself, these tendencies he had were discussed before. However, as long as he didn’t have concrete evidence, he couldn’t accuse Beomgyu of falling back into those habits.
“I need you to stop neglecting yourself, no matter the reason you’re doing it. Not just for the team, I don’t care about the team if your health is at stake. God, I’d rather have us disband if it meant you wouldn’t be dead on your feet right now. The manager should be here to pick you up. But when you get home, you’re eating last night’s leftovers,” Soobin raised his eyebrows, then spun on his heel to return to practice. Members who didn’t pass out were allowed to practice.
Beomgyu felt tears brewing in his eyes as he made his way over to the parking lot where their manager was waiting for him. Frustrated, he blinked them away. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry. It was his own fault he got caught, a stupid mistake. After he got into the van and put the seatbelt on with shaking hands, he watched Seoul’s scenery pass by through hazy vision. The world looked better like that, still spinning on its usual axis but more blurry and less real, seemingly further away from his beating heart.
The tabloids never stopped coming and Beomgyu never felt worse. His skin was now covered in random bruises, his thighs littered with scars and his jeans kept getting looser. Not only his members were watching his every move out of concern, and were terrible at hiding it, but the staff started changing too. They’d be awfully nice, tell him to eat more, tell him to take care of himself, piling onto his anxious thoughts of being found out.
He slammed the studio door behind him shut with a harsh bang before sliding down to the floor. With knees pulled up against his chest and bleeding lips he cried for the first time in weeks. Cried about the tabloids, his body, the members’ concern, the staff’s concern, and he cried. Hateful comments about him kept increasing on each platform, making him seem like a terrible person.
When he first got into the industry he’d made a promise to himself to treat all staff like equals. They were hardworking individuals, just like him, after all. It seemed the public didn’t care, the public didn’t pick up on the times where he shared candies with the staff or joked with them. Not even for his image, more of a thing where he wanted to be a good person and spread happiness, whether there was a camera in his face or not.
Instead, he was accused of mistreating the staff.
It worked slightly, when he tried forgetting about the rumors for a little bit. However, it all came crashing down when he was taken from vocal practice and into a meeting, a meeting about the tabloids. The participating staff had all looked at him with sympathy, and underlying wariness. Wariness of the rumors not having been denied quickly enough, a wariness concerning his currently fragile reputation.
Once the meeting was concluded, Beomgyu had rushed off to his private studio, leading him to his current situation. Bawling, gasping for air, and hopeless. All he wanted was for this to be over with; not just this situation, his existence. It seemed endless and plummeting always, never once looking up. Of course he had his members, but he only made them worry. It’d be better if he stopped being a bother, if he quit the industry, if his heart stopped beating.
The angry red strikes on his thighs reminded him of the nights where he’d almost done it. Where he’d picked up a rusty razor blade and sliced away like a madman, begging for salvation, eyeing his wrists. A smell of iron in the air and a weak body later, he had decided it wasn’t worth it. Not yet, at least.
With tears trickling down his cheeks, he sobbed. He clutched at his chest for something to hold onto, but he already knew, there was nothing. The hair that had fallen into his face stuck to his wet cheeks and tickled, raising goosebumps on his frail, cracked skin. If there was an afterlife, he thought to himself, he would want it to be empty of sensations like these.
His phone started buzzing in his pocket, snapping him out of his stinging thoughts. Without thinking twice, he reached for it, seeing an incoming phone call. The familiar honey voice of his dongsaeng Taehyun rang through, bringing him back to life, even if only in the slightest. The younger had always had a soothing effect on him, whether he liked it or not.
”Beomgyu hyung? Where are you? How’d the meeting go?”
A crack in his voice must’ve given him away, when he told Taehyun it went well, because within seconds the phone was hung up and Beomgyu was left listening to the beeping sounds. He didn’t have time to wipe his cheeks or dab away the tears still brewing in his eyes and pouring out when the door to his studio swung open with more force than necessary.
Taehyun was crawling down next to him in an instant, observing his still crying hyung on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest and all. Beomgyu didn’t want to feel as much at ease as he did when Taehyun pulled him into a warm hug without saying a word, just holding him and savoring him, as if he was trying to absorb all of his feelings by connecting their bodies. Because he would, he’d take away all of Beomgyu’s pain and keep it for himself if he could.
The sobs came harder now, escaping him like a domino effect, one after the other. With the full force of it all and the strength seeping out from his body, he leaned into Taehyun’s hold, burying his head into his neck and wrapping his arms around his chest to tightly hold onto the younger one’s sweater. Soft and comforting words were whispered into his ear, holding more meaning and importance than anything the company had ever told him.
“I’ve got you, Beomgyu hyung. I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He cried like he’d never cried before, up until the point where he couldn’t breathe anymore and Taehyun attempted to guide him through breathing exercises that almost seemed like rocket science when his mind felt like haywire. It reminded him of when he fainted during practice, but this was more real, so much more real when Taehyun knew too he’d been conscious the entire time, instead of half-awake and confused. Which meant that the feelings he was displaying right now were real, too.
Eventually, the sobs descended into hiccups, and Taehyun carefully pulled away from his hyung to inspect the damage. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were wet and his lower lip was trembling, teeth clattering lightly. It hurt Taehyun, it hurt to know Beomgyu was planning on going through this alone until he called. The realization only made him question how often Beomgyu went through such breakdowns, all by himself.
With warm hands, he wiped away the remaining tears that were still falling. The face he cupped in his hands felt too cold for his liking, cold like the body it belonged to was about to give out soon. Worry grew inside his mind, but he wouldn’t let it show, just his care.
“Don’t tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but how are you feeling?”
As an answer, Beomgyu just shook his head, his overwhelming thoughts and feelings crawling back into his nagging mind like a parasite that had made itself at home. His eyes were glossy and he looked so hurt, when he croaked out, “Terrible.”
“There’s just so much on my mind, and I don’t know how to handle it anymore. Every single fiber of my body keeps telling me this life isn’t worth living, Taehyun-ah, I don’t know what to do,” he confessed before he could stop himself.
Taehyun’s eyes didn’t hold judgement, only a sense of understanding. He softly reached for Beomgyu’s hand, stroking his thumb over the back of it. With each curve he traced, he felt pride bloom in his chest, although it sounded weird given the circumstances. He just felt so proud of his hyung, for finally opening up a little, for finally trusting someone enough to speak his mind.
“Beomgyu hyung, you’ll be okay. I understand if my words sound inconceivable right now, but you will be. I’m here for you, all of us are here for you, we want to take your troubles away from you. I’m not sure what’s clouding your mind, but whether it’s the tabloids or not, I promise you it’ll pass. Because you are so strong, stronger than you’d ever be able to imagine. And I know that, I can say that, because I’ve seen your strength for myself countless times.”
Their conversation ended there, Beomgyu absorbing the words and holding onto them like they were a lifeline, dragging him out of the pits of hell. By the silence, Taehyun knew. He knew that his words had some sort of an impact, planting a seed that offered a chance at growth. Maybe it was planted somewhere far away, deep down in the mind, but it was there, and that was enough.
In the dorms, later that night, Taehyun spoke to Soobin about his interaction with Beomgyu. Needless to say, the leader felt saddened at the news. However, he too knew that it was the beginning of something big; a breakthrough. If Beomgyu held on a little longer, if all of them did, maybe he’d make it out. And there would be days where he was lively and cheerful again, no longer crushed by the weight of his own mind.
Those days wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. Not when Beomgyu was sitting in his bedroom with the door locked and his wrists slit open, the same old rusty razor laid next to him on his bedside table. He’d dreamt of this moment for years. It felt like an accomplishment, finally having done it, the last step to being freed from himself.
Even with his members in the next room over, he knew it from the moment he woke up. It was spelled out so plainly before him, that today would be the day he finally did it. He’d gone to the company and worked like any other day. None of them suspected a thing. Sure, he felt bad for whoever would be the first to find out, find him. But he knew they’d move on, he hoped that they knew it had been a long time coming.
The dizziness that came with it was even better than he’d imagined it, making the world tilt as if he was already being moved to his future place of rest six feet under. His room seemed blurry around the edges, the posters littering his walls fading into nothing more than colorful stains.
Strength seeped away from his body, slowly but surely. With a peaceful sigh, he allowed himself to lay down on his bed. The covers were stained in his blood, but this time, it didn’t matter. No need for secret, urgent runs of the washing machine in the middle of the night anymore. Those would all be in the past soon, like many other things.
Things like dance practices that he had been banned from, like the tabloids, having dinner with his members and playing footsy under the table, dreaming of opening a cafe with Soobin, his deep talks with Taehyun until late hours of the night, making fun of Yeonjun with Kai, Yeonjun waking him up on the mornings when he had trouble getting out of bed. Or maybe Yeonjun would still try and wake him up, because the blurry head in front of him surely reminded him a lot of Yeonjun. Also the sound of his voice, even if it sounded more panicked, nothing like the usual laidback Yeonjun.
The hands on his body certainly belonged to Yeonjun, the feeling all too familiar from their daily bickering and playfulness. Fuck, Yeonjun was real. He was real, and he was here with him, he had found him. The awful realization dragged him back into reality, as far as his mind could go with a dying body like this, because Yeonjun had found him.
“Beomgyu-ya! Gyu! Wake up!” the panicked voice came, it sounded desperate and terrified, and even though it reminded Beomgyu of the mornings where Yeonjun woke him up, he knew it was nothing like those this time. It felt even worse when the words were followed up by, “You can’t sleep right now!”
When he blinked his eyes open again, not remembering when he last closed them, he noticed the slits on his wrists were already covered by cloth, tied tightly to fight for life. Yeonjun shook his body again, and it hurt. It hurt bad, but it was nothing compared to the war he fought in his mind with every single passing day. The pain was welcomed with open arms this time, fueling his pride of having finally done it.
Except, so he thought. He realized he hadn’t actually done it when his mind came to even more, registering even more pain and even more of Yeonjun’s frantic words, something along the lines of, “Stay with me, I beg you.” Because he was alive, alive and real in Yeonjun’s arms.
With the remaining strength he had left, he whimpered out, “Don’t call anyone. No manager, no ambulance. Please don’t call, I won’t do it again,” before his body shut down and his consciousness was no longer there, his body screaming as it tried to fight for life instead.
And it seemed like Yeonjun truly didn’t call anyone, believing his promise. In the view of the fact that when he came back to, there was no manager nor an ambulance. He was in a different room, Yeonjun’s room, but he was home. His wrists burnt like hell and his body felt weaker than ever before, but he was back.
When Yeonjun realized Beomgyu had woken up, his eyes instantly brewed with tears. Tears of concern and relief, flooding down his cheeks simultaneously. He held onto Beomgyu’s hands tightly and squeezed, and Beomgyu squeezed back as well as he could. The interaction was one Beomgyu had never dared dream of, unlike the attempt. He had never dreamed of one of his members finding him and saving him, yet it happened.
“Gyu,” Yeonjun’s voice cracked, “You’re alive,” he said, like he himself couldn’t quite grasp it either.
Beomgyu swallowed heavily, bobbing his Adam’s apple, then nodded. The weight of his guilt pressed on his chest heavily now, of how much he’d scared his Yeonjun hyung. Of how much of a failure he was. He couldn’t take care of himself, couldn’t stay out of trouble, was even too much of a failure to successfully kill himself. And so, he cried.
“I am so sorry,” he sobbed, “Yeonjun hyung, you don’t know how sorry I am. I thought I could do it, could get away with it. But I only made a bigger mess. I thought–”
Yeonjun calmed him down, telling him it was okay, that he wasn’t mad, that he understood how awfully sorry Beomgyu was. Although Beomgyu couldn’t believe that Yeonjun truly understood, he ran with it for now. He grasped onto his hyung like he’d grasped onto his death wish. It kept him grounded, it kept him real and alive and in Yeonjun’s arms.
“I’m never leaving your side again, Beomgyu. You tell me when something is wrong, okay? You don’t get to suffer like this all on your own, I’ll take your pain and share it with you if it means you’re safe. Promise me you’ll seek help, you have to promise me.”
And maybe it poured all of his efforts down the drain, maybe it meant he’d have to start over from zero. But hearing his hyung beg like this, crestfallen like Beomgyu had never seen him before, he said it. The words, which conflicted with his own feelings and thoughts, slipped out of his mouth because he couldn’t leave Yeonjun. He couldn’t leave his members behind, they were the sole reason for his existence when he muttered positive words for the first time in what felt like a century.
“I promise.”