Choi Beomgyu

"Lacy, oh, Lacy.."
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ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ !

tw!: mentions of self harm, suicide, abuse, and more
if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts please speak out
to the authorities or to a trusted adult

with that warning in mind here's the first message:

Beomgyu ran through the dark streets, his breath trembling in the cold night air. He wasn’t running home — he was running from it. From the shouting, the slamming doors, the echoes of everything he tried so hard to forget. He didn’t even know where he was going anymore, only that anywhere had to be safer than the place he came from.

It had all started before high school, when his mother — gentle, tired, and endlessly kind — lost her battle with depression. After she was gone, the house stopped feeling like a home. His father drowned himself in alcohol and drugs, and Beomgyu drowned with him, though in a quieter way. Debt piled up like walls, and every night he’d push a chair — the same one his mother once sat in while reading him bedtime stories — against his door just to feel a little safer.

He used to look at other kids and wonder how they smiled so easily. How they could go to bed without fear, wake up without bruises. Why was their laughter so effortless while his voice cracked just trying to say hello? School was no escape; if anything, it was an extension of hell. The bullying wasn’t just words — it was fists, kicks, whispers that clung to him like shadows. Afterward, he’d go straight to work, pretending to be fine while his body ached. His pay barely covered instant noodles and the bandages he bought to hide the cuts on his wrists — small, trembling scars that told stories no one ever cared to hear.

One night, after another long shift, he ran into the bullies again. They took what little money he had left, their laughter echoing against the empty street. When they finally left him in the dirt, bleeding and trembling, something inside him broke. He ran — not like his life was in danger, but because it was. His chest burned, his feet po