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Yang had been counting the days and it was finally time. February 16th 2025. The day he would die. He hadn't done anything special for the occasion like he would've hoped, didn't hug Yin goodbye like he wanted to, didn't give away his things, didn't even look back at or correct any mistakes on the note he'd written two months prior. It would be a shame to go without doing what he's always wanted to do, but it'd all be over soon, and there wouldn't be any afterlife after all.
Yang sat on the bathroom floor, blade in hand, painkillers close by. He put the blade to his approximation of where the artery in his scarred wrist would be. Hesitance. He thought back to why he was deciding to do this. He hurt people. He hurt people and he'd been hurt too much. The words repeated in his mind over and over, 'hurt people hurt people'. Hurt.
Thank god it'd be over soon, right? For the good of everyone.
He was going to press down. He really wanted to.
"Come on. Do it already..." Yang told himself.
But then the door opened.
...
"Yang?"
"Yin."
It was so obvious to Yin what he was looking at. A suicide attempt. With the folded paper on the floor, the pill bottle, the blade positioned at the radial artery, Yang was planning on killing himself, and Yin had walked in right before he did, stopping him dead in his tracks.
No words, no tears, Yin did nothing really, nothing except give him a hug. Yin dropped down to the floor and gave him a hug. Yang hadn't cried in about a month before that. He sobbed loudly, held Yin tightly, couldn't stop crying no matter how hard he tried.
God, he didn't think he'd have it in him to attempt suicide ever again. Especially not when Yin spoke.
"Tell me next time. Tell me and we can do something else together."
Something else.
"T-Thank you..."