LYHM | YG [✔]

01. Beomgyu

2 years ago

I'm at the hospital, high, stumbling through the never-ending halls as I make my way to the waiting room on the third floor. The walls feel like they're closing in on me, and I can barely see where I'm going, but I don't stop to catch my breath. It won't work anyway. I won't breathe right again until I know Mia is okay.

Please be okay.

When I finally get to where I need to be, I stop just inside the room, holding onto the vending machine on my left to keep myself steady. There are a lot of people in here, low voices and soft cries coming from...I don't know where. My eyes refuse to focus on anyone but him. Like magnets, they won't let him go. He's sitting by himself in the middle of the room, elbows resting on his knees as he runs his thumb over the black ring he's holding—my ring. It's chunky and black with the number 13 written on the face. I let Mia borrow it a few weeks ago when she was having a bad day. The doctors must have taken it off her finger when they brought her in here and given it to him. That's the only reason he has it. That has to be the reason. Because if he was the one who took it from her...If he was the one who found her like that...

Like he senses my presence here, he lifts his head to look at me.

Fuck.

He looks furious, his usually light brown eyes now red and bloodshot, his short, dark hair sticking up at the top as if he's been yanking on it repeatedly. His knuckles look busted too, like he's punched a few walls. I think he's been crying, but when he looks at me, there are no tears left. There's only hate and rage.

"Jun," I say and take a slow, cautious step closer to him. "What happened?"

He just stares up at me, which is weird because it's usually me looking up at him. He's only nineteen, two years older than me and his little sister, but he's a tall motherfucker with a body built for basketball. He and I both know he could snap my skinny ass in half if he wanted to.

"Who called you?" he asks, ignoring my question.

"My dad," I whisper. "He's on his way."

He nods slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he continues to play with the ring. "Get out."

I swallow and look over at his parents for the first time. His mom is sobbing into her hands in the corner, his dad on the chair next to her, gently rubbing his wife's back as he stares off into space.

"Jun..." I try again. "Please, just tell me wh—"

He's up and coming for me before I can finish, pulling on my jacket and then slamming me back into the vending machine, causing a few people to look this way. I wince and wrap my hands around his, holding my breath as he moves in closer, erasing the small amount of distance between us.

"Yeonjun, let him go," his mother says quietly, her voice raw from crying. "It's not his fault."

"Fuck that. He's fucking high right now, Mom," he growls, still looking at me, lowering his voice so she can't hear the next part. "You wanna know what happened, party boy?" he taunts, cruel and menacing. "You killed her. My sister is dead because of you."

"No," I choke out, shaking my head. "You're lying."

She's not dead.

She can't be dead.

But he's not lying.

A broken noise escapes my throat, the tears bursting from my eyes, and I can feel him watching them fall as if he's fascinated by them. He's staring at me again, his fingers clutching my shirt as if he knows I'll fall apart if he doesn't hold me up.

I wish he'd let me fall.

"It should have been you," he says after a minute, granting my unspoken wish and letting me go.

I slide down to the floor, struggling not to throw up as I scoot away from him.

I didn't think it was possible to feel this much pain again, but there it is, eating me up and swallowing me from the inside out.

This feels worse than it did when I lost my older brother three years ago. At least when he died, there was nothing I could have done. I was just a kid, and he was killed in a car accident.

But Mia...I could have been there for her tonight. I could have stopped her from taking those pills. I could have saved her.

Pulling myself back up to my feet, I stumble my way toward the door I walked through a minute ago. I don't want to leave my best friend here without saying goodbye, without telling her how sorry I am and how much I love her, but he's not letting me stay. And even if I had the energy to fight him right now, I'd lose anyway.

"Beom?" he calls, waiting until I turn my head to look him in the eye. "You're dead to me, you understand? If I ever have to look at your face again, I'll break it."

*****

"mars" by YUNGBLUD plays on repeat through my car stereo—the last song I remember Mia listening to before I dropped her off at home last night. I'm torturing myself, but I can't stop.

"Beom!" she sings my name, her goofy laugh hitting my ears for the hundredth time in the last two hours. "You know I hate it when you ghost me like this. Where are you? I wanna go out. Call me right now or I'm going without you!"

I hit the play button again, tipping my head back against the headrest.

Mia is blind—was blind—and even though she could text if she wanted to, she preferred using voice notes.

I stare at the roof and listen to her voice, tears soaking my face and neck as I sip the bottle of vodka I found under her seat.

"Beom!" she sings my name...