♡𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎♡

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸

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The clock on the wall ticked with an irritating consistency. It was a cruel reminder of how time moved forward regardless of the state someone was in. For Jeongin, each tick felt like a taunt, whispering that another second had passed in the life he wished he could escape. He sat on the edge of the couch in Seungmin's apartment, his fingers anxiously twisting the frayed edge of his hoodie. The room was warm and inviting—filled with soft lamplight, books scattered on the coffee table, and the faint aroma of Seungmin's favorite vanilla-scented candle—but Jeongin felt cold.

Seungmin leaned against the kitchen counter, watching his friend with a mix of helplessness and frustration. This was the fifth time this month that Jeongin had shown up unannounced, his face pale, his eyes hollow, and his words scarce. Seungmin had tried everything—listening, distracting, offering advice, sitting in silence—but nothing seemed to reach Jeongin anymore.

"Do you want tea?" Seungmin asked, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was soft, careful, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile stillness in the room.

Jeongin shook his head without looking up.

Seungmin sighed. He crossed the room and sat on the armchair opposite Jeongin. For a moment, he studied the younger man's face, searching for some sign of life, something that might tell him what to do next. But Jeongin's expression was a mask, blank and unyielding.

"Jeongin," Seungmin began cautiously, "you know I'm here for you, right? Whatever you need, you just have to tell me."

Jeongin's fingers stilled, and for a brief second, Seungmin thought he might respond. But then Jeongin slumped further into his hoodie, his body folding in on itself like a paper crane crushed by an unseen hand.

Seungmin fought the urge to scream. He hated feeling so powerless. He hated that Jeongin was trapped in this spiral of pain and that no matter how hard he tried, Seungmin couldn't pull him out of it.

Instead of giving in to his frustration, Seungmin stood and grabbed his own coat. "Come on," he said, his tone firmer now.

Jeongin blinked up at him, confused. "What?"

"We're going for a walk," Seungmin said. "You've been sitting in the same spot for hours. Fresh air will do you good."

Jeongin frowned. "I don't—"

"Don't argue," Seungmin cut him off. "Just trust me, okay?"

Jeongin hesitated, but something in Seungmin's determined expression made him relent. He stood, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself, and followed Seungmin out the door.

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The streets were quiet, the air crisp with the promise of winter. Seungmin kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, stealing glances at Jeongin as they walked. The younger man's shoulders were hunched, his eyes fixed on the ground, but at least he was moving.

They walked in silence for several blocks until they reached a small park tucked away between apartment buildings. The park was empty, the playground deserted, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind. Seungmin led Jeongin to a bench and sat down, gesturing for him to do the same.

Jeongin sat reluctantly, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"I know you think this is pointless," Seungmin said after a long pause. "But sometimes, just being outside can help clear your head."

Jeongin didn't respond.

Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You can't keep everything bottled up, Jeongin. It's okay to talk about what you're feeling. It's okay to not be okay."

For a moment, it seemed like Jeongin might say something. His lips parted, and his eyes darted to Seungmin, filled with a flicker of emotion. But then, just as quickly, he looked away, his mouth snapping shut.

Seungmin's chest ached. He reached out, placing a hand on Jeongin's shoulder. "You're not alone," he said quietly. "I'm here, no matter what."

Jeongin's shoulders trembled under Seungmin's touch. He ducked his head, hiding his face, but Seungmin could see the tears streaming down his cheeks.

"It's okay," Seungmin murmured. "Let it out."

Jeongin sobbed, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Seungmin wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. He didn't say anything, didn't try to fix it—he just held Jeongin as he cried, letting him release the pain he'd been holding inside for so long.

By the time Jeongin's sobs subsided, the sky had darkened, and the first stars were beginning to appear. Seungmin handed him a tissue from his pocket, and Jeongin wiped his face, his movements slow and tentative.

"Sorry," Jeongin muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Don't apologize," Seungmin said firmly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Jeongin nodded, though he didn't look entirely convinced. He stared at the ground, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. "I don't know how to keep going," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like... like everything's too much, and I don't know how to make it stop."

Seungmin's heart broke at the raw vulnerability in Jeongin's words. He wanted to promise that everything would be okay, but he knew it wasn't that simple. Instead, he said, "You don't have to do it alone. I'll help you, Jeongin. We'll figure it out together."

Jeongin looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and despair. "What if I can't get better?"

"You can," Seungmin said with quiet certainty. "It won't be easy, and it won't happen overnight, but you're stronger than you think. And I'll be here every step of the way."

For the first time in weeks, a small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of Jeongin's lips. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

And for Seungmin, that was enough.

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