Yeosang was numb, very numb. He was with Yunho and the older just hugged him while they kept watching the movie on the TV. If it wasn't for the noises from screen, Yeosang would have ended himself an hour ago. His arm hurt already from the long cut all the way down his forearm and well, he wasn't gonna show that to Yunho in any way. The only reason he joined his lover was because Yeosang didn't want to worry Yunho, he was stressed enough.

"Love, you want hot chocolate?" Yeosang didn't answer immediately to Yunho's soft question, feeling guilt eat him alive as he contemplated how to respond. It was always like this—Yunho, ever attentive and caring, unaware of the turmoil that raged inside him. Yeosang’s silence hung in the air, heavier than the blankets draped over them. The flickering light from the TV cast shadows across his face, but he knew Yunho could read him like an open book.

“Yeosang?” Yunho’s voice broke through the fog of his thoughts. The way he said his name was laced with concern, like he could sense the storm brewing beneath Yeosang’s calm exterior.

“Yeah, I—um...” Yeosang struggled to form a coherent thought. He could feel the warmth radiating from Yunho, a stark contrast to the cold numbness that settled around his heart. What could he say? “I’m okay. Just... tired.”

“Just tired, huh?” Yunho pulled back slightly to look into Yeosang’s eyes, searching for honesty. “You’ve been tired a lot lately. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Really, I am,” Yeosang insisted, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He hated lying to Yunho. He hated that it often felt like this was the only option available to him. But the weight of his truth felt too heavy to share. If he bared his soul, it would only drag Yunho down, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Alright, but I’m making hot chocolate anyway. You’ll help me pick out the marshmallows?” Yunho stood up, stretching as he moved toward the kitchen. Yeosang watched him go, feeling a pang of longing mixed with guilt. He wished he could just let himself be happy, wish away the ache that suffocated him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yeosang called after him, forcing his body to move. He stood up, feeling the sharp edge of pain from his arm more acutely with every step. He’d be careful; he had to be. If Yunho saw, he would panic. The last thing Yeosang wanted was for the older boy to feel that burden.

As he walked into the kitchen, Yunho was already gathering the ingredients, humming softly to himself. Yeosang leaned against the counter, fighting off the wave of nausea that washed over him at the sight of Yunho’s smile. It felt achingly beautiful and incredibly out of reach all at once.

“Do you prefer mini, giant, or rainbow marshmallows?” Yunho asked, a playful glint in his eyes. Yeosang tried to focus on the question, on the sweetness of the moment, but his mind drifted.

“Um, mini?” he suggested, still wrestling with his thoughts. The warmth of the kitchen contrasted starkly with the chill inside him.

“Mini it is!” Yunho beamed, pouring hot milk into a cup and stirring in the cocoa powder. Yeosang wanted to feel that warmth, to let it envelop him, but the darkness still lingered just outside the edges of his consciousness.

“Yeosang,” Yunho’s voice cut through again, gentler this time. “Are you really alright?”

For a fleeting moment, Yeosang considered telling him the truth, opening up the floodgates of all the pain he’d kept hidden. But the fear of watching that smile fade, of seeing worry etch itself onto Yunho's features, held him back. Instead, he took a deep breath and plastered on another smile.

“Honestly, I’m okay. Just need some hot chocolate and maybe some hugs afterwards, okay?”

Yunho’s expression softened, and he nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Okay, hugs it is,” he said playfully, pouring the hot chocolate into two mugs, inching closer to the warmth Yeosang so desperately longed to feel.

But even as they settled back onto the couch, hot chocolate in hand, the shadows loomed. Yeosang took a sip, the sweetness settling on his tongue, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness inside.

“Promise you’ll talk to me if you need anything, right?” Yunho asked after a moment of silence, eyes locked onto Yeosang’s with unwavering trust.

“Promise,” Yeosang replied, yet another layer of guilt wrapping tightly around his heart. How long could he keep this up? And at what cost? As he leaned against Yunho, feeling his warmth, he wished he could believe he’d find the strength to fight through it one day and finally let Yunho in.

...

A few weeks had passed after that night and Yeosang felt a bit better, in some way. They were drinking tonight and he already finished two beers and had one shot of vodka, feeling too hot. He didn't care about the fact that the scar on his arm left a mark, drunken mind, and took his sweater off as he tossed it to the side, feeling liberated yet dangerously exposed. The alcohol coursed through his veins, a warm haze that muted the edges of his anxiety. He leaned back against the couch, chuckling a little too loudly at whatever nonsense was playing on the screen. Yunho sat next to him, his expression a mix of concern and amusement as he looked over at Yeosang.

“You feeling good over there, buddy?” Yunho asked, his tone light, but Yeosang caught the undertone of protectiveness in his voice. The way Yunho worried about him was both a comfort and a weight on his shoulders.

“Yeah, more than good!” Yeosang replied, a grin stretching across his face. He tilted his head back, letting out a carefree laugh, letting the warmth spread through him even more as he reached for the next beer on the table. “Just living my best life, you know?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but choosing to let it slide. “Just don’t overdo it, okay? I want my boyfriend to have a good time, not a hangover tomorrow.”

“Hangovers are for the weak!” Yeosang declared dramatically, taking another gulp of his drink. He felt the numbness starting to settle back in, encouraging him to forget about everything that weighed on his mind, everything he hadn’t dealt with yet.

As he drank, he noticed Yunho’s gaze slide to his arm, catching the scar that he had tried so hard to hide. It was an unspoken tension that had followed him for weeks, and now, in his drunken state, Yeosang felt a mix of vulnerability and irritation at the reminder of it. The mark was a symbol of pain and struggle, but it was also a testament to survival. Still, showing it felt like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

“Yeosang,” Yunho began slowly, his tone shifting as he reached out to touch Yeosang’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it? Your arm, I mean.”

Yeosang's heart raced, the laughter fading from his lips. “What are you talking about?” he said dismissively, brushing off the comment with a laugh. “I’m fine, just a little accident.”

“It doesn't look like just an accident,” Yunho said softly, his eyes filled with concern. The loving gaze made Yeosang feel exposed, like he was being peeled back layer by layer. “You don’t have to hide it from me, you know?”

In that moment, Yeosang’s bravado collapsed. Beneath the alcohol-induced haze, he felt the familiar pull of darkness creeping back in. Tears threatened to spill over from frustration, but he fought them back. He didn’t want to ruin the night; he didn’t want to ruin Yunho’s smile.

“I said I’m fine!” he pushed, raising his voice slightly, the bravado getting the better of him.

“Yeosang...” Yunho looked taken aback, his eyes widening in surprise and hurt. “I just want to help.”

“Help?!” Yeosang shot back, his voice tinged with anger. “What do you think I need help with? If I wanted help, I would’ve asked for it, okay? I’m just trying to… to have fun!”

“Yeosang, fun doesn’t mean ignoring your problems!” Yunho shot back, his patience thinning. “Drinking won’t make this go away. I just want you to be okay.”

Yeosang clenched his fists, the alcohol igniting a fight within him. “You don’t get it! You don’t know what it’s like! Just… just leave it alone!”

Silence hung heavily between them, the air thick with unspoken words and hurt feelings. The flickering glow of the TV seemed distant now, the laughter replaced with an uncomfortable tension. Yeosang looked away, refusing to meet Yunho’s gaze, feeling the heat of shame wash over him as the alcohol slowly began to wear off, clarity creeping back in.

“Yeosang,” Yunho’s voice was softer now, almost pleading. “I just want to understand. I don’t want you to go through this alone. Just talk to me... please.”

For a moment, Yeosang wanted to surrender, to drop the walls around him and let Yunho in. But fear gripped him, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. What if he let Yunho see the darkness? What if he pushed Yunho away?

“I can’t,” he finally whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I can’t talk about it.”

“Why not?” Yunho asked gently, his tone coaxing yet firm. “You don’t have to carry this burden alone. I’m here for you.”

That statement hung in the air, and Yeosang could feel the cracks in his facade start to show. The alcohol had stripped him of his defenses, yet here he was, fighting against the very person who wanted to help him.

“I don’t want to drag you down with me,” he confessed, his voice shaky. For a moment, it felt like the dam might break, and he might let it all spill out. But the fear of burdening Yunho, of shifting the weight he carried onto the man he loved, was too great.

“Yeosang, loving you means I want to share your burdens too,” Yunho said softly, his hand reaching out, gently cupping Yeosang’s chin. “Please.”

Yeosang met his gaze then, searching for sincerity in those warm eyes. In that moment, a part of him wished he could lay it all bare—the pain, the numbness, the days when he felt nothing at all. Yet he still felt trapped in his own darkness, terrified of dragging Yunho into it.

“I’m trying,” was all he could manage, choking on the words.

Yunho nodded, his expression filled with understanding but also heartbreak. “Then let me help you try. We can work through this together, one step at a time.”

In that moment, for the first time in weeks, Yeosang felt the weight of a promise hung between them—a fragile thread that could unravel or hold strong, depending on his willingness to take that leap.

But could he really let Yunho in? As the evening wore on, that question sat heavy in his heart, and the answer felt just out of reach, tangled in the mess of everything he didn’t know how to say.