Was there more to life than this cigarette?

The question had been bothering Dongwook recently. Every time he sat down for a smoke, his mind returned to it.

Mornings were supposed to be peaceful times when he got to relax. Just sit on his tiny balcony, have a cigarette, look out at the neighborhood and let his mind wander.

Those days, all he thought about was that: was there more to life?

Was there more to life than going to work, getting home exhausted, watching TV and going to sleep? Was there anything he could possibly do that didn’t involve cigarettes and booze to lessen the tightness in his chest?

There might have been a way, but Dongwook didn’t dare think about it.

He’d always wanted to create. He wanted to make something that would reach all the parts of the world. No, he didn’t have dreams of changing the world. That would be ridiculous. But… if he could just be heard. He didn’t need anyone’s approval. Just the knowledge that he’d reached people.

But he couldn’t.

He didn’t have what it takes.

And every time he thought about it… His throat closed up, his breath grew shallow and quick. He forgot how to breathe, or there simply was no air in the room. He started shaking and had no control of his body. Every single time.

That was why he tried not to think about it. That was why, every time the question popped up in his head, he stood up and went to do something else, to distract himself. Because he feared the helpless state those thoughts brought him into.

The knocking was relentless.

Dongwook hoped that if he ignored it the person at the door would leave.

“Open up, I know you’re inside!”

All colour drained from Dongwook’s face. Of all the people… it had to be Jiho.

“Please, Dongwook. I just want to… See you. Open up, please.”

Dongwook moved against his will. He opened the door, but didn’t let Jiho in. He watched Jiho exhale, his shoulders drop and smile with relief.

“, Dongwookie, we were starting to worry,” he said.

“Sorry,” Dongwook said.

“...Will you let me in?”

“Why are you here?”

Jiho frowned. “To see you.”

They were both silent.

“Why won’t you let me in?” Jiho asked.

Dongwook looked away. “I know why you’re here and… I don’t want to talk. Okay? Please, leave.”

Jiho stepped back. “You…” He went quiet. “We don’t have to talk. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Well, I’m alright.”

“I know you aren’t.”

Dongwook gripped the door handle. He needed Jiho to leave. Jiho was the one who could see right through him, who could get words out of him even when Dongwook didn’t want to speak.

“I misspoke,” Jiho said. Dongwook looked up at him. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

Dongwook’s chin trembled. He harshly bit onto the inside of his cheek. Not now. Not in front of Jiho.

He looked up. “Do you want a drink?”

Dongwook swayed. His grip loosened and he almost dropped the bottle. Jiho rushed forward to catch it, as well as Dongwook himself.

The two of them had spent their time drinking and hardly speaking. Dongwook had stood up to make his way towards the balcony, but he didn’t have a grip on himself.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink anymore,” Jiho suggested.

Dongwook let out an incoherent noise. Jiho brought him to the couch and laid him down. He then sat on the carpet, back rested against the couch.

“Dongwookie… What brought you here? Why are you doing this?” He muttered, placing the bottle on the ground beside him.

“...I’ve achieved nothing, have I?”

Jiho lifted his head. He anticipated the following conversation to be a heavy one, so he took a bracing breath and said, “What do you mean?”

“I’m barely scraping by. I’ve done nothing with my life. I’m not alive.” Dongwook choked on his own words. He covered his face with one hand. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s pathetic.”

Jiho turned around. He reached out for Dongwook, but withdrew in the last second. “Dongwook, it’s okay. Sometimes it’s enough just to survive.”

“It’s not enough,” Dongwook said. “I need to do something.”

“Don’t push yourself. Now may not be the time.”

“I can’t breathe,” Dongwook spoke into the ceiling. “It happens so often that I can’t breathe. That I completely shut down. I feel useless. So often I can’t even move, I—”

“Dongwook.” Jiho called, attempting to ground his friend. “Don’t. Don’t go down that road at all. Listen to me, Dongwook. You’re in overdrive right now, you need to let yourself rest. You need to give yourself a ing break, you—you’re not okay.” Jiho went quiet. Dongwook only stared at the ceiling.

Tears fell down his face, from the corners of his eyes onto the couch cushions underneath him.

“You can do so much,” Jiho said. The exhaustion in his voice pierced Dongwook’s heart—he’d done this to his friend. “But not right now. It’s alright to take it easy. You… You need to collect your pieces and pull yourself together. It won’t be easy, but you won’t be alone.”

This time Jiho did reach out. He took Dongwook’s soft little hand in his own and pressed a kiss to the tattoos on the back of his palm.

“You’re not alone, Dongwook.”

Dongwook focused on his breathing. The deeper he tried to inhale, the less air there was in the room.

“You’re capable of so much,” Jiho said in that same, exhausted tone. “When you’re ready, I’ll be right there with you.”

Dongwook started hyperventilating. “Jiho, I—”

He couldn’t talk.

He couldn’t breathe.

He reached out blindly and tumbled off the couch, right into Jiho’s arms. Jiho held him so tightly that Dongwook almost felt like he was whole again.

Jiho his hair and helped him count until Dongwook could breathe again.

In the following years, Dongwook felt a bit better. It was a lot of work, medication and therapy, but Dongwook slowly started reigning in his depression and anxiety.

It was about getting out of that place of immovability and helplessness.

If you asked him now how he did it, he wouldn’t know what to tell you. Because he still felt the same, but now he was moving.

The very least, he had started creating, working on projects he cared about. He was starting to do something worthwhile.

As for Jiho, he kept his promise. He was right by Dongwook through it all, and was there to support his career.

But they never talked about that night again.