[Trigger warning: self-harm and mentions of suicide.]
Xinyuan didn't answer.
The question lingered in the room.
It was... Heavy, uncomfortable. Almost... suffocating.
He just stared at Wenzhi. Wenzhi stared right back.
Those dull grey eyes remained fixed on him, patient and unwavering. His freckled face was twisted into a small frown, one knee pulled against his chest, his arms wrapped around it loosely.
He looked... worried.
Somehow that made it harder to breathe.
Xinyuan's eyes drifted down to his own hand.
The blood. The knife. The mess.
"I wasn't trying to kill myself." His voice came out rough. "I just.... I just needed the pain."
Wenzhi didn't interrupt.
"I needed it to get a grip of myself." Xinyuan swallowed hard. His throat felt tight. "I am not in the research facility anymore, so there's no pain."
His lips trembled.
He hated it. Hated how weak he sounded.
But the words kept coming anyway.
"It's... a lot." His voice cracked. "I can't..."
