I'm sitting in the car with my parents who I very rarely see anymore. Everyone works opposite shifts.

So just a big heads up here I know this story is considerably darker than my last but huge trigger warnings ahead. Mostly suicide related. Please proceed with caution.

...

Junmyeon clutched the small bag in his hands, swallowing the lump in his throat and praying he didn't look as guilty as he felt. He risked a peek inside. Another bottle of beer of course. A small package of dried ramen. A bottled water. And a candy bar. Not legally purchased.

Junmyeon, in the few years that he'd bounce between living spaces and jobs, had never resorted to stealing to get the necessities. He always had just enough cash, or would dumpster dive if he got desperate. The local diners and fast food joints had caught wind though, and leftovers no longer appeared in their dumpsters, much to his dismay. But he had run out of money and with it, all his hope. He snatched a bag from the trash outside and walked into the small corner store. Wandering and stuffing things in it inside his jacket.

"Sir?" He stiffened when a voice spoke behind him amd he kept walking. "Sir!" The voice called again, sounding closer. Junmyeon just kept walking, head bent slightly and grip on his bag tightening. Maybe if he looked inconspicuous the person wouldn't want to talk to him anymore. "Sir, stop!" the voice said, but Junmyeon pretended he didn't hear, weaving his way between people who grunted as he passed. Any other day and maybe he would've cared more about his appearance, but right now his only goal was to get away.

After what Junmyeon determined to be about half an hour he finally shook away the strange person calling his name. He wove his way back to the alleyway he'd set up camp in, settling down onto his small pile of ratty blankets, the only comfort he'd managed to snag himself. He sighed, leaning against the wall behind him and expertly popping the top of his beer and taking a long drink. He devoured his candy bar, closing eyes.

A thief. This was what his life had fallen to. Gone were happy days where Junmyeon thought he had a future secure. Now were days filled with surviving off table scraps and finding shelter in the crevices of Seoul, praying simultaneously that someone would find him amd no one would notice him. He felt like a walking hypocricy. He supposed it was still better than locked in a battle over everything he owned to a woman who barely loved him, even though he threw absolutely everything he was into their relationship, trying to nurture it into something more. It was almost enough to make him miss the days of growing up in his father's house. At least he had a roof over his head.

As the sun set and Junmyeon's tiny world plunged into darkness he reflected back, much like he did moat nights. If he'd never met Eunha what could his life had been like? He'd wanted to be a teacher, and later a journalist. But he'd put a lot of that off in order to hurry and marry Eunha, afraid of letting her slip away. He saw, very vividly, how that turned out. Broken home, broken marriage, broken man.

"Sir." Junmyeon was pulled from his self loathing as a light was shined down his little alleyway, illuminating the world around him. He squinted, vision swimming in and out of focus. He gulped when he saw the police uniform though. "What are you doing here?" the man asked Junmyeon, shining his flashlight around some more.

"Um." Junmyeon didn't have a good excuse this time. So he remained silent, really hoping the officer would just get bored and move on. He squirmed under another intense set of eyes, something igniting inside of him. Something akin to what he felt at Baekhyun's. He always felt like the looks around him were directed right at him. Looks of disgust and contempt. Tears unexpectedly sprang to the grown man's eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. The officer, who witnessed the inner battle on the sad man in front of him, finally moved off, determining he was harmless. Junmyeon sighed, once again leaning on the wall behind him, this time switching to his bottled water. He scanned his surroundings. Dark. Brooding. Unwelcoming. No place for a man to live.

Then again, maybe it was a perfect fit for the man currently residing there. Junmyeon may have spent most of his days drunk, but he wasn't blind. Or stupid. He could see the affects of his addiction. But most days it was like his mind was enslaved by his body. The only thing it cared about was whether there was a bottle clutched tightly in his fingers, even if his mind protested otherwise. With that happy thought in mind, he raised the bottle to his lips once again and finished it in a few gulps, the tasteless liquid burning on the way down.

He sat for a long while after that, too overwhelmed to think of moving. At one point he stuck his hand in his pocket and played with the small coin inside, the only thing left from the meager savings he had. Not enough to buy anything but it did prevent him from saying he was completely moneyless. He debated what to do next. Get a job? That required a home. And to have a home he needed money. Swallow his pride and finally accept help from someone? He'd made it alright on his own so far. He didn't need the help.

Junmyeon finally lay down for the night, pulling a thin blanket over him to combat the cold settling over the area. He closed his eyes, praying sleep would take him quick.

...

It had been a few weeks since Yixing moved in with his cousin. So far, he and Zitao formed a close, quick bond. Zitao clearly trusted him enough to know he would keep him safe. And Yixing wasn't keen on breaking that trust. He also knew he needed a job, but luckily, writers could work pretty much wherever they wanted. So he took to writing a few pages every day just to keep up on his craft. Also to document Zitao's progress so far.

"Yixing?" Said male glanced up from his laptop to watch Zitao pad softly into the kitchen, a thin blanket over his shoulders. "Where's Yifan?" Zitao continued, his grip on the blanket tightening ever so slightly. "He's usually back by now." Yixing glanced up, startled to realize it was, in fact, about two hours after Yifan's usual arrival time.

"I'm sure he just got caught up at the office," Yixing assured. "Don't worry, alright Taozi. He'll be back before you know it." He opened his arms, turning from his work, sensing the fragile man's need for comfort. Zitao padded over and settled himself onto Yixing's lap again, sighing when he felt his slim fingers in his hair. It went like this quite often. More than Zitao ever cared to admit. He would work himself into a frenzy when Yifan was at work and would never be able to snap himself out of it. Yixing would calmly tell him that everything was alright and hold him until he felt sane again. He hated it so much. He was a grown ass man. He shouldn't be running to someone every time he felt a little down.

I should've just died that night, he thought to himself as he peeped up at Yixing, who typed away on his laptop, his chin resting on the top of Zitao's head. Then none of this would be happening. Yifan and Yixing don't need you in their lives. He tried to shove those thoughts aside. The more rational side of himself said that he was being ridiculous. That Yifan loved him so dearly and Yixing genuinely cared about his well being.

"I'll be back," Zitao mumbled, rising from Yixing's hold. Yixing snapped his gaze up, feeling Zitao's weird shift in mood. "I wanna shower," Zitao said, voice choked up with emotions. "For when Yifan returns soon."

"Are you alright?" Yixing asked, growing even more concerned by the second. Zitao squared his shoulders, swallowing down the sinking feeling in his stomach. And the slight anticipation.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Zitao said, hoping his words sounded real. "As I said, I want to shower and look nice for when Yifan returns. There's no way I'll get better if I don't try, right?" Yixing frowned as Zitao moved off, ghosting to the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind him. Still a little unconvinced, Yixing snuck down the hall, pressing his ear to the bathroom door, hearing the shower running. He shook off his weird mood, associating it with the dip in Zitao's. He slunk back to the kitchen table, seating himself at his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys.

"Hey." Yixing glanced up as Yifan let himself into the house. He hung his jacket on the hook on the back of the door, loosening his tie. He carried his briefcase into the kitchen, setting it on the table and pulling out some paperwork. "Where's Taozi?" he asked, finally aware of the lack of his boyfriend's presence. Yixing waved down the hall.

"He went to shower," he mumbled, pouring over his words, making sure he didn't miss anything. Yifan shrugged. Normal enough. He sat opposite his cousin, thumbing through the mountain of paperwork that accumulated while he was absent. And so the two sat for quite some time, each doing their own work.

"He sure is taking an awfully long time," Yifan mused to himself, sitting back and closing his eyes. Yixing blinked, finally pulling his gaze away from his pages. Almost an hour. Back the weird feeling was, clawing at his belly relentlessly. He shifted in his seat, wondering if he should voice his opinions out loud. "I think I'll go see if he needs help," Yifan decided, picking up his cousin's slight panic. Yifan rose, heading back towards the bathroom. Yixing took a couple deep breaths, turning his attention back to his laptop, though now he found it hard to focus.

Yifan screamed.

"Tao!" Yixing was out of his seat in an instant. Yifan came barrelling down the hall, an unconscious Zitao in his arms. "Yixing, quick, call an ambulance!" Yifan shouted, on the verge of panic once again. Yixing obliged, taking his phone out of his pocket and dialing emergency services. Yifan cursed himself for not removing the rest of their medications when he had the chance. "Hey Tao." He spoke softly. Calmly. A stark contrast to how he was really feeling. "You're going to be okay, alright baby? Yixing is calling for help. You'll be okay soon. You'll be okay..." He stumbled over the last few words as a sob stuttered its way out. Tao had to be okay. He had to be. Yifan could never live with himself if he wasn't.

"They're one their way," Yixing informed him. Yifan nodded, not really registering everything being said to him. Yixing raced around and packed a small bag full of things. Anything he thought they might need while they were there. "What happened?" Yixing finally dared ask. Yifan dragged in a ragged breath.

"He was just sprawled out on the floor," he said, cradling the smaller male to his chest. "The shower was running but he wasn't in it. Several empty bottles were around him. He's... He's trying to kill himself again." Yixing shook his head, hearing faint sirens in the distance.

"Yifan," Yixing said softly. His cousin lifted his head, eyes shiney. "Maybe it's time we consider... Consider putting Zitao in some kind of facility."

"A mental institution?" Yifan asked, his expression souring. "No way! Those places will just suck the life out of him. I can't do that to him." Yixing smiled sadly.

"They could help him," he insisted. He hated bringing up the idea at all. But it was clear the issues ran deep and far, and nothing Yifan and Yixing could do would be able to properly heal them. "Please consider it on the ride. I know you think it's best to keep him here but there's a very good possibility that he will just keep trying until one day he finally succeeds." And that was the harsh reality of it all. Neither of them knew what internal battles the fragile little male fought daily. "Please. If you love him at all, allow him to get the help he needs. I'll help pitch in for the bills for it. But please. He can't keep doing this."

"I..." Yifan began just as the paramedics burst into the room. They swooped Zitao up out of Yifan's hold and put him on the stretcher, wasting no time getting him out of the house. Yifan scrambled after them, calling out for Zitao. Yixing climbed into Yifan's car, following behind them.

Dear god please let Zitao be alright, he prayed to himself. Please be alright.

...

Intense! Let's see how this goes.