There are days when Soyeon wants to die.

Sometimes, she doesn’t have an exact reason as to why the thought even triggers in her head. It just happens at random, usually without warning, and most of the time – she simply allows it.

It’s completely unhealthy and destructive to think this way, she knows, but it’s not like she can stop the thoughts from occurring. They’ve become something of a habit, a fixed constant that’s almost like second-nature to the point that she’s learned to just accept it as a normal part of her life; no matter how intrusive or detrimental, or self-sabotaging it is. So, the desire of not wanting to be alive doesn’t scare Soyeon as much as it actually should.

(Then again, most people don’t feel suicidal day after day – or maybe more than once. Let alone have different intensities of the feeling in the back of their minds, ready to resurface on the days when nothing feels right anymore. On the late nights when Soyeon’s thoughts get the best of her, and she loses herself in the throes of depression twisting like a knife into her chest as it inches closer to her heart. Killing her slowly from the inside.)

These are the kinds of days that scare people the most, which is why Soyeon does her best not to let on that she’s been having them more consistently.

They don’t understand the difference, you see. She’s not actively suicidal, per se, but there’s a passive, apathetic preference towards being dead and lying six feet underground on periods like this. Moments of time when she’s anchored to her bed by the sinking feeling of emptiness and futility with the hope that she falls asleep and never wakes up, instead of letting the weight of everything she’s done, will ever do, and has failed to accomplish pile up on her chest.

Soyeon thinks about visiting her therapist again, but they probably won’t do much besides give her the same treatment of medications that have long since stopped working for her. (An increased dosage means an increased dependence, and Soyeon doesn’t want to grow reliant on pills for those temporary bouts of relief. Not when she’s afraid of what happens to her during a relapse.)

She thinks of reaching out to someone else and telling them about it, though. A person whom Soyeon can both trust and expect to understand without just being aware of it and blindly accepting, like Miyeon and Yuqi; or being sympathetic and pitying, like Minnie and Soojin. She tried with her parents before, but then gave up after realizing they just took it as another idiosyncrasy – because Soyeon doesn’t want that.

She doesn’t want superficial acceptances nor shallow pity. Just someone, anyone, who can truly feel what she’s going through time and time again.

Despite the brevity of her list, there was one other person whom she hadn’t taken into consideration until recently. Her group’s maknae, Shuhua.

The Taiwanese had climbed to the top of her list when she found the troubled leader during one of her funks. When Soyeon was just so ing tired of everything and had retreated to their dorm’s roof deck for a semblance of peace – only to start banging her head sluggishly against the glass barrier that separated her from the sweet oblivion waiting twelve floors down in the form of hard concrete, angry curses on the tip of her tongue as she roughly pulled at her hair in frustration.

Surprisingly enough, Shuhua seemed to figure out what was going on and wasted no time hoisting her up carefully before escorting the older girl back inside. Soyeon doesn’t remember anything else beyond that point, apart from Shuhua depositing her somewhere safe and quiet so she could rest without being disturbed.

The leader passed out almost instantly, cushioned by a soft pillow under her throbbing head as Shuhua lingered behind to keep watch of her. And with the maknae’s fingers gingerly brushing through her tangled hair, Soyeon was out like a light in a matter of minutes.

It wasn’t until she had woken up hours later to the equally soft, dark eyes of her nervous-looking dongsaeng – who’d gently shaken a prescription bottle at her – that Soyeon finally understood.

“I’ve been medicated since high school, so I’m on a combo that works for me right now. I still experience it from time to time, but the meds iron it out pretty well.” Shuhua looked apologetic, like she hadn’t meant to keep her condition a secret from her teammate and felt very guilty for hiding it this long.

“I don’t know how bad it is for you, unnie… But it gets a little easier once you stop pretending that the feeling isn’t there.”

Soyeon just nodded at her silently, and the two moved on. It was the only time they had discussed it, haven’t since, but that’s okay. They didn’t need to. And sometimes, it makes Soyeon feel a bit better to know that if she were to explain the difference between “I’m planning to kill myself” and “I wish I was dead, so I won’t put much effort into living anymore” to Shuhua, the younger girl would likely get what she means.

The other members have made consoling attempts (which she appreciates, of course), however, Soyeon finds stable ground in having someone who seems to genuinely understand what she’s struggling through. All the way down to its guts and sinews.

Nowadays, the leader spends most of her time in the studio as usual. Only this time, she’s not alone. Shuhua comes in regularly to keep her company, sprawled across the couch either sleeping or playing on her phone while Soyeon works diligently on a new project. She’ll turn to Shuhua every so often for inspiration whenever she hits a creative block, or ask for inputs regarding a song track she’s been assembling and if Shuhua could listen to an audio sample to see if it checks out.

They leave each other alone for the most part, though. Sticking to their own devices for certain lengths of time until Shuhua breaks the companionable silence by occasionally checking in to ask if Soyeon is hungry or if she wants a drink from the cafe downstairs. And when she sees fit to do so, Shuhua would even rope the older girl into taking short breaks on the couch. She’ll dote on her leader with head massages and soothing back rubs to relieve her of any stress, sometimes cracking a few jokes here and there to make Soyeon laugh or smile a little.

Other times, when the days feel colder and breathing becomes a bit harder, they have conversations that go somewhere like this –

“I just wish the world had been kinder to us, you know? I can’t remember what it’s like to exist without having all these thoughts of guilt and self-hatred eating me alive every second of the day…”

“It’s going to be okay, unnie. Someday. That day might take a while to arrive, but it’ll come eventually. I know this, I can feel it deep down, because you were not born in this world just to suffer. And for what it’s worth… I hope you’ll find enough reasons to stay.”

But for the majority of the time, they both remain in their own respective bubbles. Content with just sharing the same space with someone as Soyeon tries to remind herself that she likes being alive, and that there are people in her life worth living for.

Obviously, she can talk to Miyeon, Minnie, Soojin, and Yuqi – which she does. But that’s not what it’s about. The girls are just as scared of Soyeon’s bad days as anyone else. Because people tend to be scared of things they don’t understand. The four of them still listen and try to help as much as they can, but sometimes; Soyeon just doesn’t want her friends to be afraid.

“Afraid of her” and “afraid for her” are blurred lines these days, and Soyeon isn’t sure which of the two is worse when it comes to fear. She’ll attempt to reassure her members that she’s okay. She may not have the desire to be alive right now, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to do anything recklessly irresponsible. Problem is… that’s not what they see.

The leader doesn’t want to scare them, if she can’t help it. But since she honestly can’t ing help it these days, she avoids the girls and isolates herself for the benefit of them both until she deems it healthy to regroup again.

So, Soyeon and Shuhua continue to breathe the same air in the comfort of her studio. Lo-fi music plays softly in the background, accompanied by the clacking sounds of a keyboard being typed on, as Soyeon works while Shuhua does her own thing. She never tells the youngest about ‘fast-intentional-death’ and ‘slow-kind-of-dying’, but it doesn’t matter. Shuhua isn’t scared and Soyeon doesn’t scare her, so they never talk about it.

It works; sometimes well enough that a terrible day gets a little better and becomes a bad one instead. And eventually, even the tier days become a bit more tolerable too. Soyeon can go home with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes yet, but is real enough to alleviate some of the worry on Miyeon and Yuqi’s faces or lessen the momentary pain that flashes in Soojin and Minnie’s eyes whenever they’re all gathered inside the dorms together.

And when Shuhua starts the running joke of “I’m gonna go down the sewer slide”, Soyeon is the only one who gets it – the hidden meaning behind her words – and it ends up being the first time she laughs about her condition. A small, hearty chuckle that has the other members turning their heads in confusion, somewhat concerned, but it remains a secret between them. A shared sense of dark humor that is later followed up by Soyeon changing the “Do Not Disturb” sign on her studio door to “Already Disturbed, Proceed With Caution”, which has Shuhua giggling lightheartedly when she drops by for another visit and sees it for the first time.

The others won’t get it, Soyeon thinks, but they don’t have to. Their friends don’t need to understand, because Shuhua is there as the anchor that keeps her raft afloat on choppy waters. To prevent her from spiraling into the depths of crushing hopelessness and be the safety net that will catch her when she needs someone to fall back to.

Suddenly, the bad days aren’t so bad anymore. It’s not much – the journey to recovery is a turbulent one, after all – but it sure is enough for Soyeon to feel a little more alive.

“Thanks for giving me a safe space with you.”