Depression. The term has been thrown all over the place, coming out of people's mouth carelessly on a whim. 
  'I feel depressed' and 'I think I am depressed' are the more common ways in which the word is used. The term has lost its meaning; the true one. 
  In the dictionary, they define depression as: feelings of severe despondency and dejection. If one were to read it they would think 'Oh, that's what it is', and simply leave it as that. 
  But the truth is that depression cannot be defined with mere words. Despite how powerful people claim words to be, it will never be enough to define the endless abyss which is depression. 
  That is because depression isn't simply 'severe despondency' or 'dejection'. It is the voices in your head telling you that you aren't good enough. It is the suffocating feeling of being surrounded by people and yet feeling so alone. It is the paranoia that all your friends hate you and it's the fear that you will forever be alone. 
  Depression can't simply be summed up in words. Depression is something you will understand only when you experience it yourself. 
  Like Sungjong. 

  Sungjong craved love. He wanted to be loved so much that the mere thought of living without being so made him feel like somebody had ripped his heart out of his chest. 
  It made him feel empty. 
  And it made him feel even worse to know that it was probably true, that he would live the rest of his life alone and neglected. Because that's just how he was. 
  He was easily forgettable, replaceable, and wasn't amazing enough for anybody to want him the way he needed to be wanted. 
  Oftentimes he would watch couples from afar and wonder if he would ever be like them; if there was someone out there who could love someone as broken as him. 
  Although not wise, he would often indulge himself in these fantasies, imagining someone kissing his forehead, someone whispering sweet nothings to him. He imagined having someone who would hold him while he broke down, who would kiss the scars of his wrists and hold him so tight all his pieces came together. 
  He didn't believe that there was such a person, though. 
  Until Myungsoo appeared in his life. 

  It is common knowledge that puzzles can be pieced together. They were made for the purpose, two pieces fitting nicely with one another. Both imperfect, and both significantly different. 
  Just like Myungsoo and Sungjong. 
  Myungsoo was a jagged person. He was cold to people and would often snap at others for no reason at all. 
  It had irked Sungjong at first when Myungsoo was assigned to sit beside him. The last thing he needed was a grumpy guy to insult him and make him feel worthless. 
  But he soon realised that Myungsoo wasn't like that at all. He kept to himself, taking down notes and concentrating, like any other student. 
  As seat partners, they were assigned to be partners on a project together. Both were insistent on going to the other's house; Sungjong because he didn't want to be judged and Myungsoo... No one knew at the time. 
  That's how they found themselves in Sungjong's room, both agonising over research on their selected book when Myungsoo spot something. Without a word, he got off Sungjong's bed and advanced towards the book shelf, taking out a box that lay on top of the books. 
  Sungjong's eyes widened when he saw what it was, quickly walking towards Myungsoo and snatching the box from his hands. 
  "Hahah! I used to play puzzles a lot, stupid right?" Sungjong asked, laughing awkwardly as he looked around for a place to hide it. Just as he was about to chuck it under the bed, a hand gripped his wrist, making him stop and look up. Myungsoo had a hesitant look on his face, before he gave Sungjong the -albeit shaky- first smile Sungjong had ever seen on him. 
  "I love puzzles. Let's play." 
  As it so happened, the puzzle Sungjong had was a huge one with many tiny pieces, one he had never actually got around to starting. 
  For half the time, all Sungjong could do was to stare at Myungsoo as he arranged the pieces with immense concentration. 
  It was then that it struck Sungjong that Myungsoo was indeed, a work of art. The way his brows furrowed as he frowned when the pieces didn't fit, the way his fringe fell and covered one eye. The way the sun reflected off his skin, everything about him was beautiful. 
  And just like a work of art, he was confusing. In school he would ignore Sungjong and everyday when he came over to the younger's house to work on their project, he would be talking to him and smiling. 
  It confused Sungjong. And yet, that was what he liked so much about Myungsoo. The older boy was mysterious, and it had Sungjong craving to unravel the mystery that was Kim Myungsoo. 
  That's why he didn't push Myungsoo away when the latter had leaned in for a kiss. Instead, he did the opposite of that. He had leaned into it, the lips moving over his sending tingles down his spine as his body seemed to mould with the older's, his logical thinking all but existent in that moment. 
  His hands had reached up to grip the older's arms as his lips were pried open, Myungsoo's tongue dancing with his own. 
  They parted for air, foreheads pressed against each other's as they panted heavily, small smiles on their faces. 
  "Hey Sungjong, would you mind being my boyfriend?" Myungsoo asked, locking his fingers with Sungjong. It had taken everything Sungjong had not to glomp the older in a hug, settling for a nod instead. 
  "I wouldn't."

  Their relationship was nothing short of beautiful. At school they passed notes and out of school they went on dates. They went to the amusement park, the mall, the cinema; every cliché place one can take their significant other on a date. 
  Yet, Sungjong liked it best when they were at his house, working on the puzzle that they haven't managed to complete. Well, they would have completed it if they didn't spend three-quarter of their time kissing. 
  However, despite the loving boyfriend Myungsoo was, Sungjong just didn't feel good enough. He would watch as girls walked up to Myungsoo and confessed to him, just waiting for Myungsoo to accept and leave him alone. 
  How could he compare to a girl? He knew for sure he didn't have any s, and he didn't have a nice that many guys looked out for. 
  Sungjong was just too insecure. 
  Which was why he thought that the reason Myungsoo didn't want him in his house was because someone was living with him. 
  
  "What the hell do you mean? I'm not staying with anybody!" Myungsoo insisted, trying desperately to grab Sungjong's hands in his, only for them to be slapped away by a teary-eyes Sungjong. 
  "You don't have to lie anymore. Why else would you not let me into your house? You know, every damn day I wait for you to leave me so you can just admit it now and save me even more-" Before Sungjong could finish, he was being pushed harshly against the wall, lips on his gentle and comforting. 
  "Hey, let me tell you something."

  As it would turn out, Myungsoo's father was an alcoholic, his mother deceased. Myungsoo had not wanted to let Sungjong see what his family life was like, didn't want Sungjong to pity him. 
  They had fallen asleep together with Sungjong crying his eyes out, Myungsoo's hand his hair comfortingly. 
  
  They were almost finished with the puzzle. Sungjong stared at the almost completed work, gripping the bottle of pills tightly in his hands. 
  His depression had gotten significantly worse as time had passed. Even though Myungsoo was always there for him, it just didn't stop the voices in his head, the feeling of not being good enough. If anything, they intensified. 
  Sungjong opened he cap of the bottle, eyes tearing up. 
  Looks like they won't ever get to finishing the puzzle. 

  When playing with puzzles one can often get mixed up with the pieces. One piece can seem to fit perfectly with another, when actually it doesn't. 
  That was what happened to Myungsoo and Sungjong. They were too blind to notice that they were both just not right for each other. Upon meeting Myungsoo, Sungjong's life had gotten significantly more stressful, always worrying about whether Myungsoo would leave him. 
  That was the breaking point for the younger. 
  And the older? 
  He had cried his heart out when he heard what his now dead boyfriend had done to himself, blaming himself for not being there for him, for not being good enough to make him want to stay. 
  They were pieces of a puzzle that seemed to fit together. They seemed so perfect together, having each other. But then God hadn't noticed that he had put two people who weren't meant to be together, together. 
  And that's why the puzzle fell apart, just like both their worlds. 

A/N: Is this confusing? Let me know what you think!