Beomgyu and Yeonjun have been friends since childhood. Beomgyu, the son of a CEO of a luxury car company. Yeonjun, an orphan on a scholarship for their arts school. The feelings have always been there, but neither brave enough to voice them.
When Be...
They let out Beomgyu for a few minutes to wrap his knuckles.
Yeonjun is out in the hall when it happens. He steps forward, about to call Beomgyu's name. But he stops upon sighting the latter's despondent face.
He's never seen his friend so broken before. And there's nothing he can do to help.
When they were fifteen, Yeonjun took Beomgyu to an indoor trampoline park. In the middle of doing flips and twirls in the air, Beomgyu landed wrongly. He catapulted off the contraption and onto the floor. Breaking his collarbone.
Yeonjun was more panicked than Beomgyu. Although Beomgyu's hand was shot to his clavicle in pain, he didn't cry. He was calm all the way to the emergency room. While the bone healed in the next weeks, he didn't complain. That's when Yeonjun knew that his friend is strong just as he is sensitive.
Now? The mind is a whole different battlefield. One that needs more than just time to heal. A broken bone will always heal if set correctly. But overwhelming sadness that rips you apart with its teeth? It can't be so simple, and there isn't always a clear-cut way to move forward.
Yeonjun wants to speed rush that healing process. But he knows no matter what he might say, or the actions to show that he cares, are all fragile in light of the force of true depression.
I love you. When will he get to say it to Beomgyu's face?
He shakes his head, pressing his back so hard against the wall that his shoulder blades sting. He can't be so selfish at this moment. The only thing that matters is that Beomgyu comes out of the quiet room safely. That he will live to face down his dark thoughts for another day. Beomgyu is a fighter. Beomgyu has it within him to come out this ward victorious.
Beomgyu's hands are taken care of. The staff gets Beomgyu to go back inside the quiet room. And then the metal door is shut. The click of the latch going in place daggers into Yeonjun's chest. The nurses all scatter, all with various duties spread throughout the ward—taking care of the other kids, preparing medication, attending the various therapy sessions.
Yeonjun tiptoes toward the quiet room, careful not to rouse suspicion.
He stops by the door, leaning forward, until his lips are close to the crack.
"Beomgyu?"
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