Work Text:
Minho stood on the bridge,
his hands gripping the cold metal railing as he stared down at the dark water below. The surface was restless, moving endlessly, as if it had somewhere to be, somewhere to go. Unlike him. He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t. He had promised so many people he wouldn’t. Doctors. Therapists. Even himself, on nights when things felt just a little less heavy. But promises felt meaningless now. Everything did. He wasn’t scared of dying. That was the worst part. He wasn’t scared of anything anymore. Not pain, not the fall, not even what would come after. There was just… nothing. No fear. No sadness. No anger. Just a hollow, quiet emptiness that had been growing inside him for so long he couldn’t even remember when it started. Maybe it was when his parents stopped looking at him like their son and started looking at him like a problem that needed to be fixed. Endless hospital visits, quiet conversations behind closed doors, tired sighs when they thought he couldn’t hear. Maybe it was when his friends slowly stopped texting, stopped asking if he wanted to hang out, stopped trying at all. At first they said they understood. That they’d be there. That nothing would change. But everything did. It always does. People get tired. They leave.
And Minho… Minho was too tired to stop them. Days turned into something blurry and meaningless. Waking up felt like a chore. Breathing felt heavy. Even the simplest things eating, showering, getting out of bed felt impossible. Sometimes he would just lie there for hours, staring at the ceiling, trying to feel something. Anything. But there was nothing. Just silence in his head and a weight in his chest that never went away. He tried. God, he really tried.
Therapy sessions where he nodded and said he was “getting better.” Medications that made him feel like a stranger in his own body. Hospitals that smelled like disinfectant and false hope. Nothing worked. Nothing ever worked. The emptiness always came back. Stronger. Deeper. Like it was a part of him now. Like it would never leave. The wind hit his face, cold and sharp, pulling him back to the present. His fingers tightened around the railing. His cheeks were numb, probably red from the cold, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore
Minho sat down on the cold ground, right at the edge, and just stared at the water. “Why…” he whispered. Slowly, he reached into his pocket.
The blade felt familiar in his hand. Without thinking too much, he dragged it across his wrist. One line. Then another. He already knew the old scars would open again. He never let them heal anyway. He didn’t care. If he couldn’t jump, he would just make it easier. Blood slowly dripped down his hand, drop by drop. Everything around him felt blurry. People passed by, voices somewhere far away, like he wasn’t even there. Minho had learned this a long time ago. In the end, you only have yourself. People leave. No matter how much you try for them, change for them, stay for them, they still leave. And you’re left alone. Like always.
Minho’s vision blurred even more. His head felt light. His hand was shaking slightly.
And then someone grabbed him. Warm arms wrapped tightly around him from behind. So sudden. So strong. Minho froze. The person was shaking, crying.
“D-don’t—” the voice broke. “Please… don’t jump…”
It was a guy. Minho tried to turn around, but the grip was too tight. His arms felt stuck.
“I won’t let you jump,” the boy cried, his voice trembling so much it was hard to understand him.
Minho almost laughed. “I wasn’t going to jump,” he said tiredly. “I was just sitting. Can you let me go?”
“No!” the boy almost shouted. “I saw you! You were standing there—you were going to do it!”
Minho sighed. “Okay… maybe I was. It’s still not your business. Let go.”
The boy held him even tighter. “I’m not leaving you here if you don’t get down,” he said through tears. “I swear I’ll hold you even tighter, so just… please… get down.”
Minho closed his eyes. “…Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll get down. Just—let go.”
Slowly, the grip loosened. Minho stepped away from the edge and turned around. And then he froze.
“Jisung?”
“…Minho?”
Silence. Both of them just stared at each other. Shock. Disbelief. Years of distance suddenly gone in one second. They knew each other. Of course they did. They used to be inseparable, best friends since primary school, sleepovers almost every day. They knew everything about each other, every secret, every stupid story. Until one day, Jisung moved away. And just like that, he was gone. No calls. No messages. Nothing. Minho had cried for days, weeks. And then he just… stopped. They never talked again. Never saw each other again. Until now.
Minho wasn’t sure if he could hug Jisung. He was drained, knowing what Jisung did, how he forgot him. On the other side, Jisung was just starting. But he finally spoke.
“…Minho?” His gaze dropped to Minho’s hand. Blood.
“…What did you do?” Jisung whispered. His whole body tensed. Without thinking, he grabbed Minho’s wrist.
“Are you insane?!” his voice shook, panic clear in it.
Minho flinched slightly. “Let go—”
“No!” Jisung snapped. “You’re bleeding!” His hands were shaking. His breathing uneven. “…You’re still like this,” he muttered quietly.
Minho frowned. “…Like what?”
Jisung hesitated. His grip softened just a little. “Like you don’t care what happens to you,” he said, voice breaking slightly.
Silence. Then Minho let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “…And you suddenly do?” he said.
“Of course I do,” Jisung said quickly.
Minho let out another quiet, bitter laugh. “How shameful…”
“Oh yeah?” Minho said, pulling his hand away from Jisung’s grip. “Let me ask you something.”
Jisung tensed. “How did you feel when you left me all alone?”
Silence.
“Do you even know what I was going through?” Minho continued, his voice sharper now. “I lost my friends. My family. My mental health is completely messed up.” His jaw tightened. “And then you just come back… like in some k-drama.” He scoffed. “Too bad I didn’t jump,” he added quietly. “Then I wouldn’t have to see your face right now.”
The words came out cold. And he didn’t feel guilty saying them. Even if he had missed him. Even if part of him still did. He wouldn’t forgive him. Not that easily.
“Minho…” Jisung sighed, his voice breaking. “Please, let me explain.”
Minho didn’t respond.
“I’m really sorry I left you,” Jisung continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t text. I didn’t do anything…” His eyes dropped. “I didn’t want to end our friendship.” A pause. “I missed you,” he said quietly.
Something in Minho cracked. Just a little. Before he could stop himself, he pulled Jisung into a tight hug. Jisung froze for a second, then hugged him back just as tightly. They slowly sat down near the railing, leaning against it. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just breathing. Just being there.
Then, “Minho…” Jisung said softly. “Why did you want to jump?”
A pause. “…Is something really that wrong?”
Minho stared ahead. “…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Everything is wrong, Jisung.”
His voice was empty. “My life feels like I’m stuck in some kind of loop. Every single day… I can’t cook. I can’t clean. I can’t even get out of bed sometimes. I went to so many therapists. They all say the same thing. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ ‘You’ll get better.’”
Minho let out a quiet breath. “I’m not getting better. I’m just… getting more tired.” His fingers tightened slightly. “I think I’m done.” He didn’t notice Jisung was crying.
Minho knew that suicide wasn’t the best option, but he felt like he had no choice. He was drained.
“Minho… you know that’s not the best idea,” Jisung sobbed quietly. “Please… I just came back. I missed you so much.”
Minho sighed and wrapped his arms around Jisung. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Jisung broke down completely. “No, hyung. You’re coming with me to my apartment. I won’t lose you… and I won’t let you jump from a bridge. Not in this life.”
He grabbed Minho’s arm and pulled him up. Minho was too tired and confused to resist. They walked away from the bridge.
“Jisung… where are we going?” Minho asked softly.
“To my apartment. Somewhere warm. Somewhere safe.” Safe, Minho thought.
Minho didn’t even realize how they ended up at Jisung’s apartment. It smelled like vanilla and cold October air. Strangely… it really did feel safe.
“Go sit on the couch,” Jisung said gently. While Jisung was searching for something, Minho’s thoughts drifted. All those times they spent together… Back in high school, they were inseparable. They did everything together—school, eating, sleeping, laughing. Minho truly loved Jisung.
Finally, Jisung came back, holding two cups. “Here,” he said softly. Minho nodded and took the cup. He didn’t even notice the bandages on Jisung’s hands.
“Give me your arm,” Jisung said quietly. Minho hesitated for a second, then did as he was told. Jisung carefully wrapped the bandage around his wrist.
“Don’t do anything like that again,” Jisung whispered.
“I won’t,” Minho replied. But the way Jisung looked at him… Minho knew he didn’t believe him.
“It’s late,” Jisung murmured. Then, after a moment of silence— “Minho…”
“Hm?”
“I really missed you. And I’m sorry I left. I didn’t want to… it was my parents, I swear. I never wanted to end our friendship. You’re still my best friend… and I love you.”
Minho took a small sip of his tea. “I love you too.”
Jisung looked at him again, eyes trembling. “Promise me you won’t jump… not ever again. Just… please promise.” He looked so fragile, like a deer caught in the dark.
Minho stayed silent for a moment. Then finally— “I promise.”
A few minutes later, they were lying in bed. Jisung was already asleep, tightly holding onto Minho’s hand. Meanwhile, Minho stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. All the memories with Jisung came rushing back—sleeping together, going to school side by side, skipping classes just to go to the beach. He really missed him. He really wanted to live, to laugh, to love… but everything felt too heavy.
Minho slowly turned his head to look at Jisung, who was sleeping peacefully. He leaned in and gently kissed his hair. “I love you… and I’m sorry,” he whispered. Carefully, Minho slipped his hand out of Jisung’s grip and stood up. He started looking for something to write on. After a few minutes, he found a piece of paper and a pen. He took a deep breath and began writing.
My dear Jisungie,
If you’re reading this, it means I’m already gone. I’m so sorry, my love. I know you’re going to cry—please don’t. This is not your fault.
I’m just tired… of everything. The world, my problems, my thoughts—everything. That silence and emptiness I feel… even when I’m surrounded by people. No one ever really understood me. My parents… my friends… they slowly drifted away because of my condition. I never blamed them. I just felt empty. Even now, I can’t fully explain how I feel. Jisung… I’m really sorry. I’ll miss you more than anything. I just can’t stay anymore. Maybe in another life… things will be different. There’s also something I never told you. I really like you. I’ve liked you since we became friends. I love everything about you—your smile, your cheeks, the way you get flustered when I call you cute. Jisung… I love you. And I’m sorry.
— Minho
Minho finished writing, placed the pen down, and carefully left the note on the table. He looked at Jisung one last time. Then… he left.
The next morning, Jisung woke up. He immediately felt the emptiness beside him. Slowly, he opened his eyes no one was there.
“Minho…?” he called out softly, sitting up. Maybe he’s in the bathroom, Jisung thought. Then his eyes landed on the note. His heart dropped. He slowly walked over, hands trembling, and picked it up. As he read, his vision blurred. Tears started falling.
“No… Minho…” he sobbed. “Please… no…” Jisung collapsed, crying with his whole heart.
Deep down, he already knew. Everything was over.
And just like that,
Minho never found out that he mattered to Jisung,
that Jisung loved him just as deeply.