Beomgyu was never a bad kid, not in the way people like to imagine. He was kind, sensitive, the type who felt things too deeply and never learned how to stop. His smile fooled everyone, even himself sometimes, but inside he was always drowning. Music used to save him late nights, headphones on, fingers shaking as he poured his soul into melodies that understood him better than people ever did. But slowly, even music stopped being enough.

That’s when Soobin entered his life, quietly, like a gentle pause in a loud song. Soobin noticed things others ignored the way Beomgyu’s hands trembled when he laughed too hard, how his eyes always searched for something that never came back. He never judged, never pushed. He just stayed. And somehow, that scared Beomgyu more than being alone ever did.

Beomgyu started slipping without meaning to. First it was just to feel lighter, to silence the noise in his head, to feel okay for a few hours. He told himself he was in control, that he could stop whenever he wanted. But days blurred into nights, and promises turned into lies he whispered to himself in the mirror. Soobin saw the change the distance, the exhaustion, the way Beomgyu avoided his eyes and it broke him slowly, helplessly.

There were nights Soobin waited outside, phone in hand, heart racing, praying Beomgyu would come home safe. And Beomgyu hated himself for that. Hated that he was hurting the one person who loved him without conditions. He wanted to be better, wanted to deserve that love, but addiction doesn’t ask what you want. It takes, and it takes, until there’s almost nothing left.

One night, Beomgyu finally broke. Not loudly, not dramatically just quiet tears, shaking hands, and a confession that tasted like shame. Soobin didn’t yell. He didn’t leave. He held him like he might disappear, whispering that he was still there, that Beomgyu was still worth saving, even when he couldn’t see it himself.

Recovery wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fast. Some days Beomgyu hated the world, hated himself, hated waking up. But other days, he wrote music again weak at first, then stronger. And Soobin stayed through all of it, believing in him on days Beomgyu couldn’t.

Beomgyu wasn’t cured He was healing And for the first time, that felt enough.