01 - Christopher Bahng

you’d always struggled with depression.

it wasn’t the kind of depression that could get better after five counseling sessions, it was the kind of depression that needed medication. strong medication.

you didn’t know how it came, or why. why you? why did you have to get it this bad? what had you done to deserve it?

had you done something? no. did you think you did something? yeah. why? no clue. you just did.

you’d gone to the mental hospital five times in the span of a year. that was two years ago. last year, you’d only went three times. that was a record for you.

the reason wasn’t because you’d gotten better, it’s because you’d met a boy. that boy was the reason you hadn’t gone so much. he was the reason you did temporarily get better.

he was so gentle with you. so understanding. he held you when you cried, made you feel like you were worth something.

he was perfect. he was good looking and still a good guy. that was rare to find.

you were the happiest you’d ever been when you were with him.

that’s why you thought you guys had a future together.

i mean, he was everything. the reason you hadn’t killed yourself yet, the reason you felt like you could breathe.

thats why you were crushed to find out that after a year of dating, he cheated on you. and you didn’t find out in a good way.

no, not at all. quite the opposite, really. you’d caught him, in bed with his side chick right after you’d got home from getting groceries.

that broke you. that year, you’d been to the hospital more than you ever had been. seven times.

now, i know it might not sound like a lot, but to go and be there for about a week seven times?

yeah, that was frequent. unhealthily frequent.

after that year, you’d met another guy. he wasn’t anything serious, though.

just there when you needed support and when you had stress that needed relived.

never any kind of strong emotional bond or attachment. just… occupation.

after that year was the year you’d met your now best friend.

Chris.

Chris was so much better than both of the guys you’d been with.

he noticed when something was wrong, he was gentler, softer, grounding. maybe that’s what you’d needed all along.

you’re not sure.

all you new was that he was the shoulder you could cry on.

he was the comfort you needed when you were sobbing after relapsing.

he held you like you were something so fragile when you cried into him, forgetting how to breath.

that’s what made him so special to you.

of course, you didn’t care if he was in a relationship.

though, for some odd reason, it bugged you when you guys would hang out, catching up and he’d bring up a new person.

you hadn’t known why.

i mean, why did you care so much?

why did it make you slightly sad when he mentioned a new person.

no clue. you didn’t like him, right?

right..?

he was the person you called when everything got hard, not when you needed stress relief like that one casual thing last june.

right now, you were in your room, alone.

you weren’t lying in bed, listening to music and staring at the ceiling as you overthink everything.

you started crying, which led into sobbing, which led into you walking into your bathroom and grabbing the razor blade from your drawer.

you sat on the bathroom floor, knees curled against your chest as the tears continued to fall down your face.

you look at the blade in your hand as it hovers over your wrist.

ten minutes later, the line ring.

calling.

calling..

calling…

”god, please pick up.”

that’s all you could think as you sat trembling on the bathroom floor, a t-shirt pressed firmly against your wrist.

after the fourth ring…

“hello?”

a deep voice came through the other side of the phone.

“Chan…”

you say softly, voice wavering as you sniffle.

“{{User}}?”

Chris asked, his voice now worried.

“{{User}}, what’s wrong? talk to me.”

he says firmly but gently.

“please… i need you to come over.”

you say as your voice breaks halfway through.

“i’m on my way. i’ll be there in five. don’t move.”

he says firmly before hanging up. ——————————————————— five minutes later, you can hear him enter your house. he didn’t knock. didn’t have time to.

he walked into the bathroom to see you curled in a corner, sitting on the floor.

“{{User}}…”

Chris says softly.