fragile silence (stand beside you) ⸻ soogyu
beneath the muted glow of city lights, the world felt like a fragmented mirror, each shard reflecting a piece of soobin's heart that had shattered irreparably. he sat on the edge of the crumbling rooftop, a jagged structure that was a relic of a time long forgotten, overlooking the endless expanse of the city. it was here, among the whispers of the wind and the distant echoes of laughter, that he pondered the inevitable collapse of everything he had once held dear.
"you should have told me," soobin murmured into the abyss, his voice barely rising above the din of the night. the words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. there was a certain weight to regret, an anchor that dragged him deeper into despair. how did it get this way? the question loomed over him like a specter, haunting the crevices of his mind.
the memories flooded back, each one more painful than the last. beomgyu, his radiant counterpart, had always been a source of light in soobin's life. but that light had dimmed, twisted by silence and unspoken truths. "why are you sorry?" soobin had asked, a pitiful desperation lacing his voice. the words had been flung across the chasm of misunderstanding, but they never reached beomgyu's heart. the silence that followed was deafening, a cruel reminder of the distance that had grown between them.
soobin's heart felt like a cavernous void, hollowed out by loss and confusion. it wasn't what he had wanted; it was never a part of his grand design. he had yearned for clarity, for the warmth of assurance, but now he was adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty. he was afraid—afraid that the band-aids they had applied to their wounds would prove inadequate for the heartache that festered beneath the surface.
"not okay," he whispered, the weight of despair threading through his words like a mournful melody. each note resonated with a truth he couldn't escape. he felt like a marionette, strings severed, suspended in a dance of sorrow. he had hoped that love could stitch the jagged edges of their hearts, but instead, it felt like they were both caught in a whirlwind, spiraling downwards without a parachute.
the flames of unresolved emotions flickered behind him, illuminating the darkness that enveloped his thoughts. "if i don't jump now," he pondered, "i fear that i can't take the burning." it was a desperate hope, a prayer cast into the void. he could sense the inferno growing closer, threatening to consume him. each breath felt like a struggle, a battle against the encroaching shadows that whispered of inevitable ruin.
in the depths of his turmoil, he found solace in the notion that nothing he could say would hurt him further. words had become tools of destruction, capable of shattering illusions but impotent in mending brokenness. he yearned to dive into the ground, to escape the cacophony of his thoughts, to silence the chaos that resonated within him. yet, the thought of sinking deeper into despair terrified him more than the fire that threatened to engulf him.
the fragile silence of the city felt like an ally, wrapping around him in a comforting embrace, yet it was also a reminder of the loneliness that pervaded his existence. he closed his eyes, envisioning the moments they had shared—laughter echoing like music, tender touches that ignited sparks of joy, and quiet evenings spent wrapped in each other's arms. those were the fragments of happiness that now lay scattered like autumn leaves, swept away by the relentless wind of time.
he could still see beomgyu, his eyes bright with an unspoken understanding, a bond forged through laughter and tears. but the warmth had faded, replaced by an unbearable chill. it was as if they had become strangers, two souls orbiting a common star but never quite aligning. the thought of fragility consumed him—fragile silence enveloping them both, a barrier that had grown insurmountable.
