𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 | yang jungwon

despair december

[ fine line - harry styles ]

Jungwon wasn’t sure anymore. For months, the thought had lingered, persistent and unrelenting. Yet now, standing here, his heart faltered, his resolve unraveling like a thread pulled too tight.

The city thrived beneath him, a sea of indifferent lights and muffled chaos. Fifteen floors up, life went unnoticed—a boy perched precariously on a rooftop ledge, staring into the void.

He had been certain that this was it. He could leap without hesitation. He had rehearsed this moment so many times in his mind. But now, something held him back. The moon, luminous and unyielding, hung so close it felt like he could touch it. And suddenly, the thought of never seeing it again tightened his chest.

A memory crept in—of a younger, more hopeful Jungwon, dreaming of standing on stage, his voice weaving stories into melodies. How had it come to this? How had he lost himself so completely that the only solution seemed to be this?

“Pathetic,” he muttered bitterly, his voice swallowed by the night. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He hated himself for the hesitation, for the glimmer of something inside him that whispered he didn’t truly want to die.

But he couldn’t go back either. The thought of returning to that suffocating house, to the gaping absence his brother had left behind, made his stomach churn. He felt trapped, caught between two unbearable realities.

The cold air stung his cheeks, and his head spun as he wavered on the edge. Then, a voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

“Is that fun?”

Startled, he nearly lost his balance, his heart lurching in his chest. He turned his head and saw her—a girl standing on the rooftop a few feet away, her gaze steady and piercing. She was dressed simply in a fitted white tee and grey pajama shorts, utterly unfazed by the cold. Her presence was surreal, her expression calm, almost indifferent.

Her eyes flicked to him, and then she turned to face the sprawling city, her neck tilting slightly to reveal the faint outline of a tattoo. Jungwon squinted, curiosity sparking despite himself. He wanted to ask her what it was, what it meant. Somehow, he felt like she’d tell him honestly.

“Are you mute?” she asked, her voice light but sharp enough to cut through the stillness.

He froze. It wasn’t the question itself, but the way she spoke—so effortlessly, as though she’d caught him mid-act and was merely making casual conversation.

“N-no,” he stammered, his voice barely audible.

“Do you want to get down?”

Her question wasn’t laced with pity or judgment. It was a simple offer. She extended her hand, small and steady.

Hesitantly, Jungwon took it. Her fingers were cold against his, but her grip was firm as she guided him off the ledge.

Time passed in silence. She didn’t speak again, nor did she look at him. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, her presence made him feel… odd. Embarrassed, perhaps. He had come here with the intent to end everything, but now, standing beside her, he felt small. Foolish.

But he also felt something else. He wanted to live. Not die. Not yet.

He exhaled deeply, his breath visible in the crisp winter air. The cold wrapped around them, sharper now, and he noticed the girl shivering faintly in her thin clothes.

Without a word, Jungwon shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The gesture surprised her, and for the first time, she looked directly at him.

Her nose was red from the cold, and she seemed almost comically small in his oversized jacket. Yet the sight brought a faint smile to his lips—a smile he hadn’t worn in what felt like years. For a moment, the world seemed quieter, softer. Less daunting.

“You have a tattoo?” he asked, his voice breaking the stillness.

She nodded, pulling the jacket closer as though reluctant to part with its warmth. Then, tilting her head, she gathered her hair to one side, revealing the inked feather on her neck. It was delicate, intricately drawn, and Jungwon felt an inexplicable urge to trace its outline.

She let her hair fall back into place, but the fleeting glimpse wasn’t enough.

Before he could think twice, he stepped closer, his hand lightly resting on her shoulder as he gently pressed her back against the ledge.

Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking her composed demeanor. She blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came.

For a moment, they were frozen like that—his hand on her shoulder, their breaths mingling in the cold night air.

Jungwon didn’t know what had come over him. Maybe it was the surrealness of the night, or the fact that she had unknowingly pulled him back from the edge. But in that moment, with the moon casting a soft glow over them, he felt something shift within him.

It wasn’t peace, not yet. But it was something close. A beginning, perhaps. And for now, that was enough.