She opened the gate and walked straight to the door, letting herself in like it was her own house. She had been there too many times it was like her second home. She closed the front door shut and placed her belongings on the couch before calling his name to let him know she was there. When there was no answer, she called it again.

Still no answer.

She figured maybe he was at the bathroom, probably wanking off and he didn’t want her to know, because they were best friends and she was a girl, but when she got near the bathroom, she saw the door was open and the lights were off, meaning he wasn’t there. “Maybe he’s in his bedroom” she muttered to herself. So she walked slowly to the direction of his bedroom, taking her time. He was there alright. But what she saw gave her goose bumps, and color drained from her face. Yet she forced herself to remain calm, and slowly walked out the hall and went down to the living room, as if she didn’t see anything. She grabbed her purse and rummaged through her stuff. She got a whole pack of cotton pads she used to remove her makeup and went straight to the bathroom to get a dipper and filled it with water before going upstairs to his room.

He still didn’t notice her, probably too lost in his own world to even see her sit next to him on the bed. He jumped a little when he saw a hand pulling a chair close to them and placing a dipper filled with water and a pack of cotton pads to the chair.

“Yunhee” he said her name softly in surprise, his grip on the small knife weakening as blood continued to drip down his arm from his wrist.

She didn’t say anything, just pulled out a cotton pad and dipped it to the water before grabbing the arm he hurt and wiping the blood off. Her hand was shaking while she did, noticing how much cuts he placed on himself and how deep they were. And he just watched, his heart beating at a fast pace for being caught. When she was done, she got to her feet and pulled on his arm, urging him to get up and he did. He let her pull him downstairs and into the living room, let her push him gently to sit on the couch. She let go of his hand and went to the kitchen. She came back with two mugs of hot chocolate, handed one to him, the other one she placed on the coffee table in front of them. He watched as she rummaged through his movie collection, pulling out a movie and setting it up before sitting beside him on the couch.

He started to feel better, because his best friend was there next to him, trying to cheer him up. She didn’t even bandage up his wrist, just wiped the blood clean, as if everything was okay and he didn’t cut himself because he felt miserable. Even though she wasn’t saying anything, he felt comforted by her presence. He always did.

It was halfway through the movie when she decided to talk. “I always thought you were stronger than this. I can’t believe you did it.”

“I—“ he started, about to apologize but she cut him off.

“I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

He sighed. She always hated it when he apologizes, even if it was his fault. “But do tell me, however, what’s up.” She continued. “What has gotten so wrong?”

Instead of feeling pressured or scared, he was calm. She always had that way of asking him to tell her things that didn’t make him feel like she was prying and forcing him to tell her unlike some people. He trusted her so much.

“I just can’t take it anymore. Everything is too much” he explained. “Why do I always get blamed for the things I didn’t do? Why is everyone okay with me one day, and completely despise me the next? What did I do? Why does everyone turn on me so suddenly?” he ranted.

“I’m here” she said and looked at him. “I’m here with you aren’t I?” he stared at her for a long time as if he didn’t get what she said. As if she said it in a language he didn’t know.

“Yes” he finally said after a long moment. “Yes you are. And I honestly don’t know why.” He confessed.

She smiled a little. “Because I’m your best friend.” And he smiled too, because she always said that when he was in a rough patch, and he always felt so much better when she did.

“That you are.” It was weird, but those five words made him feel better and extremely guilty for what he did. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to himself, like he always did whenever they were together. He pushed her head to lay in his chest and held her hand. Her arm was a little cold, especially her hand. “You always feel so cold.” He commented. “Are you sure you aren’t actually dead and just making me think you’re alive?” he joked.

“I only planned to kill myself. I was always interrupted.” She shot back and smiled. But he didn’t smile back. And she noticed. “Right. I’m sorry” she said. He always got so sensitive when they talk about her suicide attempts.

He sighed. “You don’t know how much I hurt when I get reminded of that time in your life.” He said.

Her eyebrows creased and she looked at him with guilt in her eyes. “Yeah I know. I’m sorry. But you helped me get through it, though I’m still not completely fine, I’m holding on.”

“And you better not let go.” He tightened his grip on her hand and kissed the top of her head. “I won’t.” she promised, and actually meant it. He nuzzled her hair before sweeping her bangs away from her forehead and kissing it.

“But swear to this” she started, “that if you ever feel like again and the world is against you, ing call me and let me know because I can cheer you up better than that freaking knife.” She said it in a very aggressive tone, but he knew she was like that because she was worried. And he was thankful because she was the best person he had ever known, and he loved her because everyone turned against him and she was the only one who stayed.