⛐

Jeong Yunho: i’m drunk
Jeong Yunho: that doesn’t matter though

Song Mingi: yunho, i miss you too. but you know i can’t be here for you.
Song Mingi: we’re at different places in life.


Minutes passed before he sent another text, one that followed with regret– not that Mingi was capable of recognizing his emotions, anyways.


Song Mingi: i’m not at my best place to give you a relationship, yu,
Song Mingi: certainly not the one you deserve.
Song Mingi: it’s not your fault, i’m a cynic.


His messages had been sent ten minutes ago. Worry settled low in his stomach as he ****** in another deep drag. The smoke poured from between his pink lips with every breath, obscuring his face like the morning fog rolling over mountains.


Yunho couldn’t take it. He’d been staring at the screen, holding his breath, hoping for him to send a sixth text saying ‘it was just a joke !’ but he didn’t. And he wouldn’t.

So he cried.

He broke down, everything he’d locked deep inside of his body bled through, filling his room in the form of shaky sobs and cracked pleas into the dark vortex of his personal hell like a soul eater.

Yunho sat, his back to the headboard, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head in his knees. He consoled himself, wrapping his arms around his cold body because no one else would do it for him.

How’s feeling like the break-up was all your fault only to come to the realization that it was ?

His phone chimed a couple more times, and it took all his strength to pick it up. He almost didn’t.


Song Mingi: yunho.
Song Mingi: don’t do it.
Song Mingi: answer me or i’ll come over


Yunho wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling. His face contorted to one of confusion. He rubbed his eyes before sending his response.


Jeong Yunho: do what ?
Jeong Yunho: i was crying,
Jeong Yunho: i’m sorry


Mingi read the message, his body finally relaxing again. He’d never been so happy for a response in his life, even if Yunho had it as unfortunate as this.

‘I thought I had lost you forever.’

He didn’t know what to expect. Anytime Yunho got deeply intoxicated, he’d always risked his life. I dunno, just maybe this time he felt the need to take it. Then Mingi would seriously regret things.

Before he could respond, Yunho sent another text.


Jeong Yunho: do what, mingi ??

Song Mingi: never mind
Song Mingi: are you home alone ? or is san there ?

Jeong Yunho: it’s just me.

Song Mingi: yeah, i don’t like that.
Song Mingi: can i come over ?

Jeong Yunho: no it’s messy
Jeong Yunho: i’ll drive over there
Jeong Yunho: see u in five


Mingi saw that and panicked. “Is he crazy ?? He’s drunk !!”


Song Mingi: no
Song Mingi: don’t ******* drive
Song Mingi: i’ll go get you
Song Mingi: or walk, just don’t drive

On the other line, Song Mingi laid in bed, completely at ease, for once. A fresh blunt hung from his still fingers, wafting the disgustingly amazing aroma through his dim bedroom, the only sounds being heard were the occasional inhale and the traffic outside.

Every time he breathed in, he could practically feel the stresses and sorrows leaving his body. That’s one thing he liked about it. It made all his problems go away– or at least slightly more moderate than they’d usually be.

Reaching to his left, he fumbled the painkillers off of his cluttered nightstand.
Setting the blunt between his lips, he twisted the cap off, shaking one out onto his hand before knocking it back into his mouth. He crunched it between his back teeth, before downing it with a glass of lukewarm water.

This is how it always went. Smoke a blunt, headache, knock back prescription pills every four hours until he couldn’t feel anything at all. That’s the beauty of synthetic satisfaction.

Never lets you down.

People ask him why. Well, just imagine losing everything, and then throwing away the best thing you had. You would force yourself into bitter evenings in the clouds, too, if you had nothing better to do.

It’s the idea of always feeling like you’re never enough even when you’re still doing too much. It’s overwhelming, and to Mingi, there was only one thing that could wash away the miserable shame and anxiety. He’d rather be disgusted with himself than let other people be disgusted with him.

So he inhales. And he doesn’t exhale, because he’s not so sure he deserves to.

Picking the bottle of pills back up from his lap, he places it back down on his nightstand. As he does, his phone goes off four more ******* times. ‘If you’re not dying, then why are you texting me repeatedly ?’ He snatches up his phone, tapping it to be met with the glowing lockscreen.

Jeong Yunho. Jeong Yunho, Jeong Yunho, Jeong-*******-Yunho.

Even seeing his name on his screen sets off a whole new bundle of triggers in his mind. It’s like cutting open a wound that took so long to heal and letting dirt air settle on it. He scrolls through the messages, letting out little laughs before his heart falls.

“I want us back.”

Mingi choked out a sob. “Oh, Yunho…”


Song Mingi: are you drunk ?
Song Mingi: yunho ???

Jeong Yunho stared at his phone, the contact name Song Mingi burning his glazed over eyes in the darkness of his bedroom. Outside, the city bustled, rich with nightlife. Partygoers and alcoholics loudly exchanged conversation, their words completely audible, even over the bass of the music Yunho was blaring.

Cherry Waves had been playing on repeat for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t intentional– but it did wonders to his intoxicated body, making his heart twist and turn with every soulful verse.

Clutched in his hand was the neck of a heavy glass bottle of Bacardi Superior. The fragrant liquid sloshed around in the bottle, along with the acidic burn of the alcohol in his stomach. He’d promised himself– no, he had sworn he was okay with being friends– that he’d accepted their ending.

He hadn’t really, though. It was painfully obvious, even more with the truth serum melting away those carefully constructed lies. With every drop, the dam that held back his desperate longing for Mingi crumbled, threatening to unleash a tidal wave of regret and raw desire.

So he did it. He gave in, whether he meant to or not.


Jeong Yunho: yo
Jeong Yunho: i’m missing you more than my liver is missing being sober.


He sat there with his phone laid on his thigh, looking down at the screen in expectation. It’s two in the morning, so Mingi could very well be in bed and asleep, yeah ? Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Out of the whole year and a half they had been together, Mingi never went to bed before six am. So he was awake. Question is, why hadn’t he answered ?

‘Did he… block me ? No, he’d never do that to me. He promised we’d always be friends..’

Maybe he did fall asleep. Only because Yunho refused to believe that Mingi would deliberately ignore his texts. Or in this case, advances.

He was still hopelessly in love with Mingi. Everything about him was meant for Yunho, and he was sure of it. Two people who started as friends, progressing– what else was there to say about a relationship like that ? It was perfect in his eyes. Perfect for them.


Jeong Yunho: mingiii~
Jeong Yunho: wake uppp
Jeong Yunho: i miss you.

He was starting to feel pathetic about his whole situation, if we’re being completely honest here. What came over him, overpowering his whole body with the urge to text his ex, while he’s stripped of his inhibitions and completely distraught ?

‘I should go back to church.’


Jeong Yunho: i bet you’re in bed
Jeong Yunho: probably like
Jeong Yunho: naked

Jeong Yunho: mingi, are you sleeping ?

No response.

Yunho laughed at himself, but not quite because it was funny. Because it was sad.

The playful facade suddenly shattered. The Bacardi had done it’s job, not only in breaking down those thick walls, but tearing down their barrier that he’d worked so hard in enforcing.

The flimsy attempts at flirtation now felt hollow, replaced by a crushing weight in his chest. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but the words that came next weren’t at all what he’d intended, they were a desperate plea from the deepest parts of his bruised heart.


Jeong Yunho: i actually really miss you.
Jeong Yunho: it hurts. i want us back
Jeong Yunho: why did we ever stop ?
Jeong Yunho: please answer.


The silence from Mingi’s end was worse than radio silence, sharper than the burn of the Bacardi. Yunho took another long swig, the bottle feeling lighter in his hand, but his heart much heavier.

He felt stupid. Inadequate.

He was no longer trying to tease Mingi awake; he was trying to scream into the void of their absence, desperate for an echo.

I'm running on Bacardi
Drinking like a slob at this party
My heart reaches for her hand
But only on the bottle does it land
I pour another cup of drink
And into a mattress I sink
Thinking just of her
As the world around me blurs
My heart twists and turns
While my esophagus burns
My face goes numb
And now I am drunk