What If (What if I loved you)

Chapter 11

"He was the moon and I was the star. He was the only one but I was one among many" -Unknown

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I finally return home after eight agonizing days in the hospital. The doctor wanted to keep me longer, said it was for my me to get better mentally, but I couldn't stand the sterile white walls and the constant probing questions any longer. And with that I will not have been better for sure. Against all advice, including that of my concerned friends, I've decided to left the hospital and to work right away. It's sad but my work and the people I work with are now the only things that make me fell alive. And, in a way, I think it's easier there. Nobody asks questions about my absence, about my behaviour or the bandage that is still wrapped around my wrist. Nobody even dear to look at me. In South Korea, health and mental illness are really topic taboo, and I'm determined to keep it that way. I don't want people perception of me changing because of what I have done. I don't want pity, sadness or sorrys.
Back at the agency, it's like nothing has changed. The other members of the group welcomed me back with smiles and back pats, and the work carried on as usual. But when I step into my apartment later that evening, the weight of my solitude bears down on me. The memories rush back like a tsunami, threatening to drown me in despair. The pool of blood on the bathroom floor, the gleaming blade in my trembling hand, the suffocating fear, the crushing panic; all of it floods my mind as soon as I'm alone.

Desperation claws at my chest, and I can't take it any longer. My fingers tremble as I pull out my phone, my thumbs clumsily typing a message to Seonjii, my closest friend in the group.
**Kit:** Hey, Jii. I know it's late, but I can't stay here tonight. The memories are overwhelming. Can I crash at your place?
Seconds feel like hours as I wait for his reply. It's a relief when the familiar chime of my phone alerts me to a new message.
**Seonjii:** Of course, Kit. I'll be there to pick you up in 20 minutes.

My gratitude washes over me like a soothing balm. Seonjii has always been there for me, and tonight is no exception. I start pacing around my apartment, trying to dispel the ghosts of my past. The minutes drag on, but eventually, there's a knock at the door.
Seonjii enters, his eyes filled with concern as he takes in the state of my apartment. I can't blame him; it's a mess, but not in the usual, cluttered way. It's a mess of haunting memories, invisible but as tangible as any physical clutter.

"Hey," Seonjii says softly, pulling me into a gentle embrace. "I'm glad you reached out. You don't have to go through this alone."
I manage a weak smile, the first genuine one I've had in what feels like an eternity. "Thanks, Seonjii. I don't know what I'd do without you."

We settle on the couch, and as the evening stretches on, we begin talking about mental health, Korean society, and the brutal realities of life as a celebrity in this country. Seonjii's face grows somber as he shares his own struggles with anxiety and depression. It's not easy for him, constantly in the spotlight, expected to be perfect in every way.

"The pressure," he says, his voice trembling, "it's suffocating, Kit. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I wish it didn't have to be this way," he says, his voice trembling. "I wish we could be free to be ourselves, to seek help without fear of judgment, to live without the constant scrutiny."
I simply just nod, my eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, Jii. It's a cruel world out there, especially for you." I reach out and take his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. "But we have each other, right? We can lean on each other when things get tough."

Seonjii nods, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. We're a team, after all."

As our conversation continues, Jake, the group leader, becomes an unwitting focal point. It's not surprising, considering he's the one who holds our careers in his hands. But this time, Seonjii surprises me by turning the conversation toward a question I hadn't expected.
"Kit," Seonjii begins hesitantly, "why didn't you directly come to my place instead of coming back here?"
I'm taken aback by the question, unsure of how to respond. The truth is, I didn't even consider going to Seonjii's place. He's been my confidant and dearest friend, but there's a part of me that still hesitates to reveal the depths of my pain.