The gentle young man who once coaxed me into shopping was now a hardened boy with a broken leg, having attempted suicide multiple times. Whenever I approached, he would growl and tell me to "get lost." "I don't want to go." I looked at him quietly. "Sebastian, I want to sleep with you." I pulled him out of despair, accompanying him back to the place where he was once adored by everyone, only to unexpectedly find the daughter of a business partner lying on him, looking fragile. I felt it was time for me to leave. But he stopped me at the airport, blood seeping from the wound on his prosthetic leg. With red eyes, he asked me: After all the suffering we've endured together, are you leaving now? Do you want to take my life?
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