“What should we do now?”

“I’m not really sure.”

“Can we kiss again?”

“Okay.”

People always said that two wrongs never made a right. Adding a lie on top of another only made everything crumble beneath the liar’s feet.

There was never an exception to the unspoken rule.

The place was nothing pleasant, no matter how hard they tried to make it seem like such. It was dull and dry, stuck in a never ending routine for every inhabitant, visitor, and worker: wake up, breakfast, go to sessions, lunch, more sessions, dinner, sleep. There was never a break in the routine that they had created, and life just seemed to flow that way. No one complained much, because although they didn’t want to be there, they didn’t have a choice.

Psychiatric Hospitals were just like that.

The door to his room opened, revealing another worker. They never talked to him, and he never talked to them. He prefered to stay quiet, because there was nothing to say that could change anything. No conversation was worth the trouble, so no words was better. He knew what he had to do though, so he slowly got up and walked towards the worker, slipping past them and out of the door. He was late for another of his sessions, not that he cared. He had no interest in telling other people his story, and they therapist had already heard it countless times. What more could he tell them?

“You’re late again,” the therapist said. He shrugged. “We have a new member today. Wouldn’t you like to meet him?”

He shrugged again, feeling pity for whoever it was that was new here. Whoever it was probably didn’t want to be here, and probably thought it would only last a few weeks, which was a lie. That was just something they told them to calm them down for the time being, and get them to shut up. He knew it, because he had already been there for two years.

“Since he’s new here, we’re all going to go around and introduce ourselves? Why don’t you start us off?”

The therapist was smiling at him, but he knew that it was fake. The man hated being here, just as the rest of them. He was only there so that he could get paid, and now, he was punishing him for being late.

“My name is Lee Taemin,” he said simply.

“Tell us why you’re here,” the therapist requested. Taemin glared at him, looking over at the new member. He looked around his age, with big eyes and a double adam’s apple. Taemin noticed how fit he looked, not bulky, but muscular nonetheless. His arms were crossed and the guy looked just as displeased as he did. The guy looked back at him, staring straight into his eyes as Taemin continued his introduction.

“I’m depressed and don’t see the point to life.”

The therapist let that answer slide, continuing onto the next person and letting him free. They continued to look at each other, Taemin noticing every detail on the other male. He was curious about him, and why he was here. He didn’t look depressed, just mad. Taemin could almost see the fire in his eyes.

Finally, it was the other boy’s turn, and Taemin was anxious to know more about him. He wanted to know more about the boy he couldn’t take his eyes away from, and just as he had done, the guy looked straight into his eyes as he spoke.

“I’m Choi Minho, and I’m here because I’m aggressive.”

There was something about Minho that captivated Taemin, though he was he too afraid of getting close. He didn’t fear Minho, but he feared what he could do to him. Taemin had had his fair share of violence in his life, and it was safe to say that he wanted nothing more to do with it. He couldn’t deal with it again.

He noticed Minho sitting alone in the cafeteria though, and he felt bad. It was the guy’s first day in hell, he should at least make one friend. He cautiously moved closer, until he was standing in front of the new guy who was silently eating his food. He coughed to get his attention, and flinched a bit when Minho quickly looked up at him.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. Minho motioned for the seat in front of him, giving his silent consent to Taemin’s presence. Taemin placed own tray down and sat, picking at the food a bit before giving up and just eating it. If he didn’t, they’d force feed it to him with the excuse that he was trying to starve himself.

“So, you don’t see the point to life?” Minho asked, trying to start a conversation. Taemin looked down at his arm, eyeing the various scars, most at his wrist, but a single one on each arm, trailing up to his elbow brought the most memories.

“It seems pointless to me. There’s nothing to live for, so why continue? The way I see it, I’ll live miserably until I’m killed or die of natural causes, so why not end it early and save myself from the extra pain?” Taemin explained. He saw Minho nod to his statement. “You’re aggressive? I didn’t know that could get you stuck in here.”

“It’s not like the typical anger management stuff,” Minho said. “It’s more like, I like it. I’ve started a bunch of fights, just to be able to hit someone. You’re here to learn how not to kill yourself. I’m here to learn how not to kill someone else.”

Taemin felt the sudden rush of fear strike him all at once. He felt like he had to get away. His mind was screaming at him to run away from the larger man before him, but he found himself incapable of doing such a thing. His feet were grounded to the floor as he watched Minho eat his food nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just expressed his capability to snap anyone’s neck with ease. The man’s simplicity scared him to no end, and he couldn’t help but think that there was more to him than he had originally thought. There had to be something more than this needless aggression.

He turn his head, finding one of the doctors watching him intently, before looking back down at his food. He had barely taken a few bites of his food, and immediately knew that this was the reason why they were watching him. He hesitantly picked up his chopsticks and continued eating. He wouldn’t allow them to think he was trying to starve himself too. He needed to act as if he was getting better so that he could get out sooner.

He heard a low chuckle and looked up at Minho, seeing the man clearly staring at him. Taemin paused mid chew, focusing more on what exactly Minho found so amusing. He continued to confuse Taemin further.

“Not afraid to kill yourself with a razor, but you’re afraid to starve yourself?” Minho asked, shifting his gaze to the clear scars on his wrists. He stared down at them as well, trying to see if he could remember why each one even occurred. There were too many to tell them apart, some larger, some of them mixing with others. There was only one he could really tell apart from the other, the vertical one going from the start of his wrist to the middle of his inner elbow. He smiled as he traced it, remembering his first actual attempt to end his life. His other arm would have the same mark, had his parents not caught him as he had just finished the first and rushed him to the hospital.

Taemin shrugged, not even looking at the other as he was too focused on the cuts on his arm now. “It isn’t that I’m afraid to starve myself. I’ve tried it before. I just don’t like have food shoved down my throat through a tube later on. Instead, wouldn’t it be better to just pretend like I’m all better, and when I finally get out, surprise all of them.”

Minho chuckled again, as if agreeing with him. He was starting to like the smaller male in front of him, who went back to his food almost as quickly as he had looked away from it. The boy was the exact opposite of him, and that seemed to draw him closer to the boy. This wasn’t his first time meeting someone who was depressed, but it was his first time meeting someone so eager to end their life as soon as possible. Other he had met had vowed they would never go so far as to harm themselves, but this boy seemed to accept death with no qualms.

Then an idea came to his mind. If this boy was so eager for pain, and he was so eager to give it, couldn’t they help each other out? That should be possible, shouldn’t it?

“Hey, Taemin, right?” he asked. The boy in front of him hummed absentmindedly, continuing to eat his food slowly, unwillingly. “How about we help each other?” Taemin stopped eating and stared at him from under his bangs. Minho admired the other’s ink black hair, as it fell into his eyes. It suited him beautifully.

“What do you have in mind?” Taemin asked.

Minho stared at him before answering, taking in the boy’s slim, too skinny figure. It would be so easy to break him. “You want to die right? And I want to be able to hit someone. So why not help each other? You let me use you as an outlet, and I’ll help you kill yourself. Does that work?”

Taemin stared at him incredulously. “You... Want to help me kill myself? So what? I become your punching bag?”

“Precisely.”

“That will never work. There are weekly physical exams here. Any cuts or bruises will easily be found.”

Minho hummed in thought, knowing that Taemin was right. There was no way they could get away with that plan if he and Taemin were caught.

“How about this? We’ll help each other. If you see me getting too violent, stop me, and if I see you trying to hurt yourself, I’ll stop you. That way, they’ll see we are better, and we can get out of here sooner. It’s a win-win situation: we get out and we can continue the deal,” Minho suggests. Taemin thought for a moment, turning to look at the doctors who were now focused on other patients and then back to his food. The idea did have its upside. He could leave and finish what he started, though with a twist. Minho would finish it for him.

“So... You want to kill me?” Taemin asked. Minho shook his head.

“No, I don’t want to get arrested for murder. You can do that on your own.”

Taemin nodded. That sounded better to him. He’d rather not have someone else end his life for him. It didn’t sound as appealing to him, in a sense. He wanted to finish what he started on his own. A few added bruises wouldn’t affect that.

“So, do we have a deal?” Minho asked. Taemin nodded absentmindedly, continuing his lunch. Soon after, there would be another group therapy session, although this time, it would be telling each other their stories instead of a simple introduction, now that Minho was there. Normally, they would just talk about there problems, and see if there was any progress in their condition.

Minho smiled at his answer and finished what was left of his food, eating quickly and more eagerly than Taemin. He urged the other to finish all of his food, so that the doctors could see some progression in him, to which Taemin nodded. They stood up together as soon as he was done, leaving their trays on the rack at the exit of the cafeteria. He didn’t have to look up to see the confused faces of the doctors he passed as he placed his empty tray down.

The group session went by slowly. There were about 10 of them in the room, not including the therapist, all sitting in a circle again. This time however, Taemin sat beside Minho, quietly staring at his lap as if it held the secrets of the world. Minho placed his hand on Taemin’s thigh, as if to calm him down, but after a second, it felt as if Minho was squeezing too hard. He winced, and Minho seemed to notice as he softened his hold and patted his thigh before removing his hand. Taemin turned to look at him, gaze falling almost instantly on Minho’s eyes. They were narrowed, and he seemed angry, though Taemin wasn’t sure exactly why.

And true to his believe, Minho was angry, though he himself wasn’t sure why either. Seeing Taemin wince at his gesture upset him, because he hadn’t thought he was apply too much pressure. He wasn’t sure if it was simply because of his uncontrolled strength, or Taemin’s fragile boy, and it frustrated him. He settled with assuming that it was a mixture of both and settled with it.

The first to speak was a boy named Kim Kibum. He had an attachment disorder. Because his parents were rarely there as a child, he became lonely, and attached himself to whatever possible. Soon, it became clear that he was not to be removed from the object of his attachment, and if it was a person, he became possessive, refusing to allow them out of his sight. It got to the point where he became violent whenever removed from the object of his attachment, thus he was placed here. He was 19.

Another person that caught his eye was Kim Jonghyun. He had obsessive-compulsive disorder. He, like himself, had dark thoughts of hurting others. The difference, Minho realized, was that he never acted on those thoughts. Instead, because of it sprouted his disorder. He felt dirty, and would have panic attacks whenever in an unsanitary environment. He felt as though everything around him must be neat and clean, to make up for his horrible thoughts and keep him calm. Minho could not imagine living such a way. He was 20.

A few people down and it was Lee Jinki, a 21 year old man with an alcohol problem. He began drinking at an early age, and couldn’t seem to stop, as if he were addicted to the taste. Despite what doctors tell him, he finds himself incapable of stopping, and despite much persuasion from his family, he refused any help. As a result, he was forced into the institute to seek professional help. He hasn’t had any alcohol in the past 3 months.

Finally, it was time to hear Taemin’s story, and he found himself feeling more and more eager than he originally thought he would be. He was curious to know the boy’s story, considering he had already shared part of his own.

He learned that Taemin was only seventeen years old, and had been here for a little over a year now. Taemin’s grew up with parents who practically ignored his existence, often hearing hushed whispers about how he was a mistake that should have never happened. At school, he had no friends, and not even the bullies acknowledged his presence. Taemin had successfully, unwillingly become a mere speck in the large world, and he wanted nothing more than to be seen. After realizing such a thing was unlikely to happen, he began to lose hope, and simply gave up, choosing a razor blade as his companion.

His parents never noticed how his already thin figure became even smaller, or his constant dizzy spells that attacked him, or even the sound of his retching as he threw up whatever food he managed to get down. With his depression came his eating disorder, thinking that maybe it was because he was not good looking enough that the world refused to acknowledge his existence. That had been changed over the past few months of his stay in the hospital though.

What had not changed was his desire to remove himself from the world that didn’t seem to want him in the first place. He was surprised when he parents even bothered to take him to the hospital, but knowing them, it was probably because putting him in the hospital cost less than arranging a funeral. His parents had visited him a few times, telling him how much they missed him at home and how sorry they were for making him feel so alone, but his feelings never changed. He still felt as though he had no purpose in the world.

And Minho could not see how the world could be so cruel to such a beautiful creature. The moment he had seen Taemin, he knew there was something about him that enticed him. Something about the boy’s cold demeanor and uncaring gaze. The difference between them was clear. Taemin did not fear death, and instead welcomed it. He was simply waiting for his chance to finally leave this world. Minho though, feared the idea of death coming to him and knocking on his door. He had no problem putting someone else at Death’s door, but he himself would rather stay as far away as possible from it.

And finally, it was his own turn to speak. He told them all that he was nineteen years old. He told them that he had no idea why, but he always had thoughts of violence in his head, thoughts that he could not control. There was nothing out of the ordinary with his life. His parents were kind. His older brother was always there for him. For some reason though, he always felt some unknown want to simply destroy something, and so, he began fighting. The more he fought, the more the urges grew, until it got to the point where it became harder to stop fighting. He lived for the thrill of feeling bones break beneath his fist. He enjoyed seeing people bleed because of him. He loved it, and he people around him began to fear him. It wasn’t until he nearly killed a man that his parents realized just how serious his problem was, and the alternative to being arrested was to be put in this center in hopes that he could learn to control himself. At the moment, he was under probation. If he screwed up and started a fight while around these people, they would keep him isolated from everyone else for the safety of the other patients.

When he was asked if he was feeling the usual urge to hurt someone, he denied it, and he wasn’t lying. He simply didn’t feel up to rearranging someone’s face at the moment.

Taemin was silent throughout the entire exchange, before and after his turn. He was observing his surroundings, taking in every movement of the others in the room. Kibum was clutching onto the front of his own shirt, as if afraid that it would disappear from him if he let go. Jonghyun beside him was cringed into his seat, avoiding physical contact with anyone. Two seats down, a boy named Kyungsoo’s large eyes were darting from person to person, as if searching for something, anything wrong with the room. Jinki’s fingers kept twitching.

Minho, beside him, sat motionless, simply listening to the others that were left to speak. He didn’t know what had compelled him to speak to Minho in the first place. He feared the man beside him, and everything he was capable of doing, but at the same time, he felt as if this man would not ignore him, and he took a chance. A small part of him, despite already resigned to the idea of death, still clung to a thin thread of hope that maybe one person could be the one to make a difference in his life.

He had finally found someone willing to speak to him. Someone who had found a purpose for him, even if the purpose was to be nothing more than a punching bag. He was fine with that, he was fine with anything, so long as someone paid attention to him.

That was enough to make him feel happiness for the first time in years.

“How have you been doing? Any trouble eating lately?”

“No, not really actually.”

“That’s good. The sooner you get better, the sooner we get out.”

“Alright...”

Their plan had been progressing smoothly. Minho had kept up his end of the bargain, and he kept his. They kept each other in check. Minho was given a ball to squeeze whenever he felt the need to hurt someone. Taemin was the one to carry it around, and whenever he noticed Minho getting on edge, he quickly stepped in, shoving the ball in his face and watching as he calmed down after a few squeezes.

Minho would always make sure he completed his meals, and was always there to watching him and make sure he didn’t revert back to his old ways and stick his fingers in the back of his throat. The doctors were surprised by his sudden change, and encouraged him to continue it. He only nodded at them, and as soon as he left the room, his nerves hit him all at once and he would scratch at his skin until it was raw and bright red. At that point, Minho would hold his hands to make sure he wouldn’t scratch too hard or too much and hurt himself.

Both of them were in separate, individual rooms, for different reasons. Taemin’s room was completely padded. There was nothing hard, no sharp edges, or anything that he could potentially get hurt with. Even if he wanted to bash his head on the wall until he bled, his head would only meet the soft cushions protecting the walls. Minho on the other hand, was placed in an individual room simply because they feared him hurting whatever roommate he would potentially have. Even so, they both requested to be moved into a room together, and both requests were denied.

They were worried for his safety, knowing that Minho could give him what he wanted. Minho could end everything for him.

Even so, he and Minho never left each other’s side unless they really had to. His therapist had asked him many times why it was that he had become so close to Minho, and everytime, he gave the same answer before changing the subject.

“He’s my other half.”

And he didn’t doubt it for a second. Minho was everything he wasn’t. They were complete opposites, and that was why they fit together so well. Minho had never turned away from him, and was the first in a long time to give him any attention. It felt wonderful hearing Minho ask him if he was okay or if he was feeling well. Having someone be concerned for him elated him. Even if he was ultimately nothing more than a mere punching bag for him, he was content with that. It made him feel needed.

But he knew that even if he was there, he was just another punching bag. Minho could easily replace him with someone else, and that made him feel less needed than he already was.

Even so, he continued to stay by Minho’s side, because he had promised that he would. He had promised Minho that they would stay together when they got out, and continue their deal then. He kept it to himself that he had come to care for the taller man, more so than he had ever cared for anyone else. The feelings he grew for Minho were more than that of a friends, and he smiled sadly at the fact that his own crush would be the one to bring him to death’s door. He preferred it to be Minho than anyone else, but the thought still saddened him.

Now, all he wanted to do was get out of here, so that he could properly be with Minho, even if only for a while.

“You seem tense.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Do you need the squishy ball? Or do you want to go to the gym instead?”

“Let’s go to the gym.”

Minho watched as Taemin happily ate his food. He never had to remind the boy to eat all of his food anymore. Instead, it seemed as though Taemin wanted to eat all of it. The group therapy sessions weren’t the same either. Taemin no longer spoke of his want to end his life, or how pointless living seemed. Instead, he spoke of how he had found something he wanted to live for, and how he was going to continue living for that reason.

He no longer knew if Taemin was acting or not.

On the other hand, he wasn’t too sure of his own progress. Even now, 3 months after he arrived in this hell hole, Taemin still had to give him the stupid squishy ball to calm him down when he felt the need to hurt someone. At least once, he had wanted to hit everyone there, so far except for Taemin. Taemin was the only one that had managed to escape his wrath so far, and he many of the times he had kept himself from hitting someone, was simply because Taemin was there.

So far, he had only gotten himself into 2 fights. Both he had caused by tempting the people, and both he had won. In the end however, he was sedated by doctors, and woke up alone in his room. They had taken him to many fitness rooms, to try and work out his anger and tire him out, but it always failed. He couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Now was a prime example. He was starting another fight. He was supposed to be trying to stay calm, but he couldn’t. It was getting increasingly more difficult, and the less he fought, the harder it was to keep the feeling down.

But he couldn’t help it. This man was pissing him off, talking as if he knew so much about everything. He knew nothing. This man knew nothing about how it felt to feel alone and want nothing more than to have someone there. Not even he himself knew. Only Taemin knew. Only Taemin had the right to say anything about it. This man needed to learn his place.

So he threw the first punch. He hit the man as hard as he could, wanting to do as much damage as he could. The man put up a good fight compared to the others, but he still wasn’t strong enough to beat him. Many people were shouting, and he knew that if he didn’t end it soon, a doctor would before he could, but a part of him wanted to take his time with this man. He wanted to show the man what it really meant to feel pain.

Someone was trying to hold him back, but it wasn’t working. The person must have realized that as well, because they let go of him, but he never thought the person would run in front of him either to try and stop him. But they did, and his fist connected directly with their jaw. Normally, he would have continued, but he wanted to see who had been stupid enough to run in front of him at a time like this.

When he saw Taemin lying on the floor, with a bruise quickly forming on his sensitive skin, he halted all movement. He looked back down at his hands, and back down to Taemin. This was their deal. He hurt Taemin just as he was supposed to, the only problem was that it didn’t feel as good as he thought it would have. He felt terrible, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the fact that Taemin was in pain, and he hated the fact that he had caused it with his own fist. It didn’t seem right.

But that was exactly what happened. He hurt Taemin, and he couldn’t do anything to change it. His fists clenched in anger; at no one but himself. He had hurt the one person that wasn’t afraid to be around him. The one person who willingly stood by his side. Now, he feared that if he even tried to help him, it would end in nothing but disaster.

So he chose to run from it instead. The doctors would no doubt find him later, and talk to him about it, but he had to get away. He couldn’t see Taemin like that.

This was his first time turning away from a fight.

“You know, you can hit me now, if you want.”

“What about you weekly physical exams?”

“I’ll say I accidently hurt myself.”

“That won’t get us out sooner.”

It had been a week since he last spoke with Minho. It hurt that the elder was avoiding him so fiercely, more so than the bruise on his cheek. This was the first real friend he ever had, and he guessed he had already ruined it. He had already upset Minho so much that the other couldn’t stand to be in his presence.

At group therapy sessions, Minho would move seats as soon as he sat down, often times forcing someone else to switch with him so that he could be as far away from him as possible.

During breakfast, lunch, and dinner, when he sat down at their table, Minho would sit on the other side of the cafeteria. If Minho was already sitting there when he went to sit down, he would stand up, his face expressionless, and leave the table.

During free time, Minho was no where to be found.

And he felt himself spiraling further down in the cycle of his depression. He couldn’t sleep, only spending the nights wondering what exactly he had done wrong. He lost his appetite, sometimes skipping meals just so that he wouldn’t have to be avoided. He barely spoke anymore during group sessions.

At the beginning of the second week of his solitude, he found what he had been needing for a long time.

The one part of his room, that was free of cameras and isolated, was the bathroom. In there, he no one would know what he was doing, and that was all that he needed. All he needed was that room.

He had found a nail on the floor when he was walking in the gym the week before, in hopes of speaking with Minho. He hadn’t found the man, but he found something even better. After entering the bathroom, he used the nail to break a small piece of the mirror, right in the corner. He smiled, now that he finally had exactly what he needed. He had been right all along, this was his only friend, the only thing that would never willingly leave him.

He supposed now was a good enough time to add the mark that was missing on his empty arm. He rolled up both sleeves, examining his right arm. It looked so perfect with the large scar running through it. Now his left arm would finally look the same. Maybe if he had enough time before getting caught, he could reopen the one on his right arm too.

Without hesitating, he let the glass cut into his skin, making sure it was deep enough to do it’s purpose. He replicated the scar on his arm, traveling from his wrist to his inner elbow. His smile never left his face as he did so, only growing wider at the sight of the red liquid he had missed so much. He supposed there was nothing wrong with doing this now. Since Minho didn’t care about him anymore, it must have meant the deal was off anyway. At least he somewhat fulfilled his end of the deal. Minho got to hit him, even if it was just once.

He dipped his finger into the blood, wincing weakly at the pain. He had really missed it so much, more than he thought. Even so, a part of him felt like he was making a mistake. A part of him still felt like he should be with Minho, keeping up his end of the deal, even though Minho clearly wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Beside him, he wrote a message wrote exactly what he was thinking, just for Minho, because that was the only person he felt deserved it.

He started working on his right arm next. He already felt faint, but he wanted to finish what he had started before he out. A knock on the door made him pause, and he knew it was one of the workers, coming to check on him. That meant he had spent too long here, and they were no suspicious. He needed to hurry up.

He heard them calling his name, and cursed when he couldn’t muster up his voice enough to tell them that he was fine, and he cursed that the door had no lock. He hadn’t realized the tears that had been falling until a drop fell on his arm, and half way down the line on his right arm, the door swung open.

A nurse came in, only to stop in his tracks. The lady stood with wide eyes before calling out to a doctor and rushing further in. He was too weak to put up a fight against her for the glass, and let her remove it from him hand. Two doctors rushed in, calling for another to bring supplies to stop the bleeding. He just laid there, watching with blurry eyes as they gathered around him, working quickly to make sure he didn’t lose too much blood while the nurse made sure he stayed awake.

The commotion in his room grabbed the attention of other patients, who stood confused outside of the room. Minho, who was walking quietly in his free time, barely reacted when someone bumped into him as they ran. He couldn’t find the anger in himself to care anymore, after what he had done. His curiosity took it’s place though, and took control of his mind.

He moved towards the closest person he could recognize, which was Kibum. The man stood frightened as he watched the commotion a few feet away, and when Minho looked closely, he noticed exactly where everyone was gather, and he didn’t like it.

“What happened?” he asked Kibum, as soon as he was close enough. Kibum didn’t bother turning to look at him, and just kept watching as a gurney was rushed into the room.

“Something happened in Taemin-ssi’s room,” he said. “A couple of doctors and a nurse rushed in there a minute ago.”

Minho paled at the thought of what could have happened to Taemin, but before he could get closer, security guards and doctors were moving everyone away, making space, and especially moving patients out of the way. They couldn’t have other patients getting ideas as well. Minho had no choice but to return to his room. The curiosity was killing him inside, and the thought of anything happening to Taemin sent a familiar anger inside of him.

He needed to know what happened to Taemin. He wanted to be there for him, and take care of him. All this time he had avoided the boy in fear of hurting him but now Taemin was hurt, though to what extent or why, he didn’t know.

All he could do at this point was hope that something would finally turn out right.

It wasn’t until the next day, as he wandered into Taemin’s room, that he found out exactly what had happened. In the commotion, the mess was forgotten, and everything was still there: the broken piece of the mirror, the blood stains, the message.

It was small, but it was enough to strike him.

“Sorry.”

He cursed himself for leaving such a mentally unstable person on his own, especially considering Taemin’s history. He felt anger build in him once again, all at himself. He couldn’t believe he had been selfish enough to just abandon Taemin that way, when knowing that being ignored his whole life was what led to his depression? How many times had Taemin expressed to him that he was his first friend, and in the last week, he had done nothing but give Taemin the impression that he wanted nothing to do with him.

As soon as he realized his mistake, he ran out of the room in search of the younger, in hopes to fix his mistake. He searched for the first doctor he could and asked them where Taemin was. They were hesitant to give him any information, but after months of having witnessed their close relationship, and knowing that Minho was neither a threat to Taemin, nor in danger of being triggered by Taemin’s condition, he led Minho to Taemin’s room.

When he arrived, he doubted ever seeing something so beautiful, and at the same time, so sad in itself. The image of Taemin lying pale in the white bed, black hair falling over his eyes and eyelashes casting a shadow of his thin cheeks, was breathtaking, and at the same time, he couldn’t stop the sharp pang of guilt that hit him knowing that it was his fault that Taemin had fallen so deeply back into his depression. He should have known that Taemin was still vulnerable to his desires to end his own life, but he ignored it because of his own stupid feelings.

He hesitantly walked into the room, feeling his guilt hit him harder as he approached the boy on the white bed, whose arms were wrapped in bandages with a needle in his arm providing him with more blood. He sat in the seat beside the bed, cautiously taking hold of the hand in front of him. Right now, he just wanted to be as close to Taemin as possible, no matter what, because he could no longer imagine not being with him.

It pained him to know that it had taken him so long to realize that he had fallen for this angel before him, but better late than never, he always said. He chuckled to himself, wondering if Taemin could ever feel the same, let alone forgive him for what he had done. It was a wake up call, now that he realized that Taemin had a similar condition to Kibum’s, though Taemin’s was extreme to another degree. Kibum forcefully attached himself, and became violent towards others if removed. Taemin became attached unknowingly, and when removed, could only hate himself more, and became harmful towards only himself.

He held the Taemin’s hand tightly, carefully not to apply too much pressure. He frowned seeing the bruise still visible on Taemin’s cheek, though it was a yellowish color now, which only meant it was fading.

He knew he couldn’t leave Taemin, especially not at a time like this, but he feared what the other would think of his feelings? How could he tell the person he had nearly brought to death that he loved him? What he felt for Taemin was nothing less than love, but expressing it would be the problem. He could never express anything other than his anger.

“Minho hyung?”

Minho stared with wide eyes at Taemin, who stared right back at him with half lidded eyes. He felt the hand he was holding tighten around his a bit, and he smiled sadly, knowing that the small squeeze was all the strength Taemin had at the moment, because of him.

“I’m sorry,” Taemin said.

Minho looked at him sadly. “What could you possibly be sorry for?” He the younger’s hair softly, lovingly, and he hoped Taemin wouldn’t notice it.

“Everything. For being here. For causing problems for you. For being annoying. For still breathing. For being unable to keep my promise. For not being able to finish before the nurse found me. I’m sorry.”

Minho shook his head, wanting to rid it of everything he had just heard. “You’re stupid if you believe any of what you said. I want you here. I need you here. You’ve been nothing but amazing and kind to me, and I was stupid for what I did. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for abandoning you. I’m sorry for not being strong enough to stop myself. I’m sorry for being an ignorant . Please, I know I have no right to ask for it, but please forgive me. Give me time, and I’ll change. I’ll get better, and this time, I’ll be with you every step of the way to help you too.”

Taemin only smiled at him, before nodding and falling back to sleep. Minho wasn’t sure if he heard everything he said, but just seeing the smile on that beautiful face was enough for him.

“What about the deal?”

“ the deal.”

“So you won’t hit me, and I won’t have to die?”

“I’d kill myself before hurting you again.”

It was four months later when things finally became stable. In those four months, not once had Minho caused or been involved in a fight, and his anger no longer appeared to such an extreme extent. Taemin was moved to a safer room, and had done nothing to give the doctors any reason to believe him to be suicidal.

Taemin was calm, eating regularly and speaking cheerfully. His steps were lighter, and the idea of hurting himself had not come up once in those four months. He thought positively now, and Minho preferred this Taemin ten times more than the depressed Taemin. As far as Minho knew, Taemin was no longer in search of death. If anything, he was becoming quite scared of it.

Minho knew, based on what the doctors had told him, that he and Taemin would be able to leave in the next month. They realized quite some time ago that they needed to be together if they were going to progress any further, and separating them would only make things worse. Still, they were not allowed to sleep in the same room, simply because those were the rules.

They spent a lot of their time in Taemin’s room though, sitting around in their comfortable silence. It was the only place they were allowed to be alone (though still under surveillance) because Minho’s room was much too dangerous for Taemin. Minho never minded going to Taemin’s room, and instead enjoyed the softness of the room. There was no way anyone could get hurt here.

They both sat on the bed, facing each other. Taemin contemplated telling Minho his feelings, but all he could imagine was the inevitable rejection that would come.

Minho however, was tired of waiting, and decided that today was the day he was going to do something. He slowly reached for Taemin’s hands, marvelling at the soft skin, and held them gently in his own. Taemin paused in his thoughts and looked up at Minho, who was looking straight into his eyes. Had he been standing, he had no doubt his knees would have collapsed.

“Taemin-ah.” Taemin gazed into Minho’s deep brown eyes, trying to match the older’s intense gaze. “I... I have something I want to tell you, so hear me out, okay?”

Taemin nodded and waited patiently for Minho to start again.

“When I first got here, I wasn’t sure what to think about you. I had never met someone so set and willing to end his own life. I couldn’t help but think about how different we are. We were complete opposites, and it amazed me. I thought we could use each other, and benefit from each other, but then, I hurt you,” Minho said. He let go of one of Taemin’s hands to his cheek, that had once held a nasty bruise he had put there.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Taemin replied. Minho smiled sadly and shook his head.

“I may not have planned to hit you, but it happened anyway. Nonetheless, that’s done with. However, it made me realize something,” Minho said. “That deal that we made... There was no way I could have went along with it. After hitting you once, I felt disgusted with myself, and that was why I avoided you. I was afraid to hurt you again, and unknowingly, I did just that. Because of me, you nearly died.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Taemin repeated. Minho held Taemin’s cheek in his hand, thumb still rubbing over the spot that was once bruised.

“It was, and I regret being so stupid, but I finally understood something after it all happened.” Minho held both of Taemin’s cheeks now, bring the younger’s face closer to his own. He pressed their foreheads together, so that Taemin would have no choice but to look at only him, and marvelled at the sight of the younger’s rosy cheeks. “People always said that two wrongs don’t make a right, but look at how messed up we were, and we got better together. Whoever said that was a filthy liar, and I’m glad we could prove them wrong, and I want to continue doing so.”

“C-Continue? How?” Taemin asked.

“Taemin-ah, I love you. I have for quite some time now, and even if you don’t feel the same way, my feelings won’t change, nor will I leave you and stop being your friend because of it. I plan on staying by your side, for as long as I can, and proving that even though we are messed up, we can help each other get better. So, will you give me that chance? Because I can’t see myself with anyone other than you.”

Taemin chuckled a bit, happy that Minho felt the same way about him. “Are you proposing to me?”

“I think it’s a bit too early for proposals, wouldn’t you say?” Minho asked. “How about we start with something simple? Will you be my boyfriend?”

Taemin smiled and nodded, before Minho leaned closer and captured his lips. The kiss was brief, but he felt complete bliss feeling those soft lips caressing his own, taking hold of his bottom lip. By the time Minho pulled back, Taemin’s cheeks were undeniably red, and he couldn’t hide his embarrassment, nor the fact that he enjoyed the kiss very much. He didn’t try to hide either, simply because there was nothing he needed to hide from Minho. The man already knew him so well, and knew all of his secrets. What was the point in hiding this?

“I love you too Minho hyung,” Taemin replied. “So, there is no deal?”

“No deal. I can’t imagine hurting you again,” Minho said.

“And you won’t ever leave me?”

“The thought never crossed my mind. Why do you ask?”

“Because you leaving me is worse than killing myself.”

7878 words.

I wrote 7878 words. 

May I just say that this is my second longest oneshot. You're welcome :D

I hope you all enjoyed it! I've had the idea in my head for a long time, but I never wrote it. Ironically, it's sort of like the prompt for the 2min writing contest I created, Summer Love Writing Contest. I hope some of you will consider participating in it. It would really make me happy. 

Well, I'm off. I have other things to write now. 

Please comment and let me know what you think!

Bye bye~