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Kim's been hungover for two days. He’s felt suicidal before, but the just needed someone to put him out of his misery.
He walked back into the bathroom to see the mess he’d made the days prior. Vomit all over the walls, covering the toilet and rendering it unusable—unless you’re puking your guts out.
He wandered around their apartment. He could sense the fear and worry in the air, wafting off of David. He hated when he got like this. He hated seeing his beautiful husband destroy himself in the name of self hatred.
David suggested going outside to walk around, go to the park, but the thought of seeing anyone else but David bothered him. Graf was his heart, his home. No matter how bad things got, no matter how much he hated seeing him slowly but surely kill himself, he loved Kim. There was nobody else in this world that understood him like he did.
So he just walked around. Kim was aimless but that’s all he could do. He paced the floor and resisted pulling the gauze that covered the wound he created last night. It started to smell and it was most likely infected, but he didn’t dare to take it off. It would only make things worse. But he couldn’t help but stop every so often to sit down and smell it. He thought that it would make it better or make it stop the infection. It made sense to him .
He looked over at the window and opened it before David was able to get to him, but the other man still got up before he was able to open the screen.
“Don’t.” Their apartment was seven stories high. All you could see was the snow and the ice piled up from the plow.
It would hurt, it would hurt David more. But he would be out of his misery.