Title: At the Edge
Group: Infinite
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-16
Warnings: Suicide, references to cutting and drugs, Dark themes
Genre:Dark
Summary:He’s at the edge. Will he topple over?
MAJOR WARNING:I apologize ahead of time if this is your bias, believe what you believe.

I looked over the edge the cars zoomed pass, the people on the sidewalk insects crawling around. On a normal day I was one of those insects, moving mindlessly, following patterns that dragged me deeper into darkness. Patterns that drained me, patterns that made me wonder why I do the things I do. The only light in my life was dancing, singing only then there was an aura of light around me, a reason to live for the shortest moment. Other than those moments my life was blank I did as I was told and nothing else, whatever expected of me and nothing more. Ironic the building I was on top of was the same one that brought me closer to my joy.

When I first stepped in this building I was fresh, new talent ready to be trained, ready to be in the spotlight. I trained so hard, sweating blood and passing out every night into dreamless sleep. There were days I cried for hours upon hours as I moved, no inched, closer to my dreams. No matter how difficult it was for me to learn to sing, no matter how long I had to practice each and every day for them to keep me in the company I never lost hope. I practiced twice as much as I had to, gaining only a handful of hours of rest and several more bags beneath my eyes. With everything there was always a smile on my face, this was my dream I would never let anything stop me.

Finally, when I debuted with my own group, Infinite I was beyond happy. My body was light, my heart racing, energy buzzed through my limbs; all my hard work paid off. The world was so bright, music was my life and the only thing that mattered; I lived and grew close to six other boys who believed the same exact thing. Infinite meant there was no end, always improving, always changing, infinite. On stage we radiated charisma; we danced and sang our hearts out. Variety shows loved our freshness and unique personalities. I was on cloud nine and nothing could drag me down. Yes, I was sleeping less and working trice as much as before but it was all worth it for the stage. At some point I even had to care for a girl only a few years younger, none of the stress mattered I was happy.

On stage fans cheered us on, pushing us to be our best. Every time I heard the cheers I pushed beyond my limit. I loved it, all the pain and all the breathlessness. I guessed in some small ways I was masochistic, but it was so fun. Every day was I did what I adored and earned money for it. I gained brothers from it, I gain fans, and I gained irreplaceable joy. I never noticed when everything fell apart, when my world stained black at the edges. When I first cut into my skin and let my blood flow out, when I first did things to cause myself pain, the multiple cuts on my legs hidden from sight, drugs I took once every week I wondered when did they all started. When did I even start needing such things? My high use to come from my art not white pills off I brought some stranger. I faintly remember when I started each:

Blood beaded out from the small horizontal slash on my thigh, it stung. My sunbae looked at me with an odd smile.

“I was right wasn’t I? It’s a good stress-reliever,” he nodded showing me the long slash on his wrist. Bile rose in my throat, it was a sick thing to see a person do to themselves. At the time I believed it and swore never to do it to myself, I broke that promise.

Three weeks after that when I was pressured, ten tons of weight on my shoulders, I spotted a razor in the bathroom medic cabinet. I felt the cool metal in the palm of my hand, clenching tight with the sand paper cover on. My eyes s to the locked door and back to the razor, I pulled off the cover. The razor looked sharp and shiny as the light from the bathroom light reflected off it. Holding my eyes closed tightly, I pressed the tip of the razor into my thigh right below my waist. A quick sting then warm liquid pooled from the cut, I pinched the skin with my two fingers to make more flow out. My eyes opened and glanced down at the scarlet source of life I was squeezing out of me. After the first time it was so easy, multiple cuts layered would appear on my thigh. The first time anxiety griped my sides, closed my throat and tensed my muscles after that it faded. I couldn’t stop, I was ashamed of what I was doing but I couldn’t stop.

I opened my eyes and looked back towards the ground, cars continued to whoosh pass and the people continued to scurry. I dropped my head against the chain linked fence, fading back into my memory.

The pill was a pastel white and had a bitter bite as it when down. Some sunbae gave me a bag of them when he saw the bundle of nervous named me. I kept them in my bag for weeks, always planning to throw them away yet never getting the chance to. The pill gave me a lift and pseudo-dance feeling, a high that could never match the stage, but still I took one. Curiosity killed the cat, and it certainly didn’t help me then. It was right before stage and my stomach was cramping, twisting in muscles I didn’t know existed. Nervous tension ripped out my insides, lights flashed in front of my eyes, dizziness ran through my head I needed to calm down.

His voice floated through my mind, “Take one and relaxation.”

Biting my lip, I took it. As I said a fake-dance high feeling that wasn’t enough, not cloud nine but eight took me over. Blown out of my mind high, my feet not touching the ground, I ran out on to the stage. Half out of my mind, half in control glided across the stage.

The wind bit into my eyes jolting back to reality. I let my foot dangle and the angry wind nearly ripped my shoe off. Tension was crawling into my limbs as the high I had faded and a new high took its place. Up here I was powerless yet more in control of myself than anywhere else, my choice what to do without peer pressure. A stupid high coursed its way into my veins, a high from hanging off the edge with my life in my fingers.

“Nam Woo Hyun, what are you doing?” I whispered to myself suddenly extremely tired. The hyper feeling from the drugs faded and the nerves took its place. That fought with the high I got from standing at the edge. Intense pressure grasped my lungs and the leg I held in the air was made of lead.

“Woo Hyun, what are you doing?” I mouthed silently to myself. Tears were blurring behind my closed eye lids: Step over the edge or not?

“Woo Hyun, what will you do?” I whispered looking back down to the grey sidewalk infested by scurrying people. Fewer cars were zooming pass as the sun was farther down in the sky. One step over the edge and it’s done.

“Just one step,” I urged myself. Why am I doing this? My heart was racing, beating against my ribcage.

“One step,” I smiled darkly to myself and stepped one foot out into the air.