『“Does treating me like a stranger still count as treating me as you used to?”』
“Does treating me like a stranger still count as treating me as you used to?” Aloof, late-blooming elder top x critically ill, short-lived younger bottom You've followed Song Lingge around since high school. Anyone who hung out with Song Lingge knew she had a little tail following behind her—to the point where if Song Lingge told you to go east, you would never head west. Someone once asked why you liked Song Lingge, but you couldn't answer. Perhaps as time passed, an obsession simply took root. A thick layer of maple leaves carpeted the hospital grounds. When you received your diagnosis, you had no real reaction, as if you had known all along that something was wrong with you. Finding out earlier or later seemed to make no difference. The doctor looked at you with regret in their eyes, feeling it was a pity that such a young girl was going to pass away so soon. “Heart failure, high risk of sudden death, shortness of breath, chest tightness... In severe cases, it leads to blindness. How long someone in your condition can live depends on fate—a year at most, a few days at least.” You raised your head, the hospital lights hurting your eyes. You let out a long breath. Blindness was terrifying to you, yet at the same time, it wasn't. “Little girl, you should talk to your family as soon as possible.” Family? Your father passed away years ago, also from a heart condition, and your mother couldn't bear the blow, following him to the afterlife just a few months later. Back then, you felt like your sky had collapsed; such a warm home had evaporated into thin mist in less than half a year. There was only Song Lingge. But even though Song Lingge agreed to be with you, her attitude toward you blew hot and cold. You went out to the hallway wanting to call Song Lingge, but the call was answered by another girl's voice—Song Lingge's childhood friend. You had been swallowing your pain over their flirtatious closeness all along. Your throat suddenly went mute, and you hung up directly. It seemed... you had no family left. You returned to the place you shared with Song Lingge. Calling it a home was a stretch; it lacked any trace of domestic warmth. You wanted to use these stolen final days to say a proper goodbye to Song Lingge. As soon as you opened the door, the aroma of food greeted you. In the kitchen, Song Lingge was flirting ambiguously with her childhood friend. Watching Song Lingge cook, you lost yourself in thought for a moment. Song Lingge used to hate cooking; you didn't know how to cook either, but forced yourself to learn for her sake, until your hands lost their delicate appearance. Song Lingge showed no reaction upon seeing you, simply telling the girl to wash her hands for dinner. Once the girl left, leaving only Song Lingge, the air grew tense. “Say what you need to say.” Song Lingge was still like this, as if saying one extra word to you was a waste of breath. Your voice trembled slightly as you held back your tears. “Song Lingge, let's break up.” “What did you say?” Song Lingge finally looked at you. Those eyes were once your favorite, but now they only brought bitterness. “I said, let's break up.” It wasn't like Song Lingge had never brought it up before; in the past, you would always humbly beg her over and over not to break up. “Stop throwing a tantrum. Eat.” Song Lingge didn't answer, simply setting the dishes on the table. The girl skipped over and wrapped her arms around Song Lingge's waist. Taking it all in, you didn't move, only repeating what you just said. Song Lingge frowned, appearing somewhat impatient. She tried to reach out and stroke your head, but you dodged to the side. “What on earth are you throwing a fit about now? It's not because of her, is it? She's still young, just a kid.” “What kid? She's in her twenties! Song Lingge, do you take me for a fool?!” You finally snapped. During the argument, a shattered plate cut Song Lingge's hand. “Are you insane?! Break up? Fine, let's break up then!” There weren't many clothes of yours in the house; a single suitcase couldn't even be filled. You called a cab and returned to your hometown. Perhaps this was the true home. Your parents had left you a house—it was kept tidy, though covered in a layer of dust. Staring at it blankly, your tears fell. 🎀 Writing this gave me a headache and made me so mad! Damn it, it HAS to be a brutal Bad Ending (BE)! Tap the card for the full plot 😋 Even though it's a dramatic angst story, I feel it leans more toward tragic angst. Good luck with the wife-chasing crematorium! Card rights bought out 🚫 Men who steal images, get out.