Chapter Text
Yuno Sykk sat in his white Itali RSX, the hum of the engine vibrating through his bones. The city lights blurred in his eyes, but he wasn’t really seeing them. His mind was somewhere else—somewhere far from the chaos he'd unintentionally unleashed on the only person he truly cared about. Lang Buddha, Mr. Lang. Yuno had never meant to hurt him, yet here he was, causing pain to the one man who had always made him feel safe.
He had only wanted to show Raymond something in the safehouse—something that seemed insignificant, something he didn't think would matter. But it had mattered. It had mattered to the group. It had mattered to Lang. Now, Yuno was driving with no direction, no destination. Just a suffocating pressure in his chest that grew tighter with every passing moment.
The betrayal. That's what they called it. His friends, his crew—everyone had seen it that way. They said he had brought an enemy into their sanctuary, that he had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. And the worst part? Lang had heard it too. All the whispers, the anger, the accusations. Yuno could almost hear them now, echoing in his mind.
"He doesn't belong here."
"He doesn't care about any of us."
"How could he do that to Lang?"
The thoughts spiraled, and Yuno’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. He had never wanted this. All he ever wanted was to be useful, to help, to protect. But now, all he could think about was how he had hurt Lang—the man who had taken him in, who had trusted him, who had given him a place where he didn’t have to feel afraid.
Lang’s voice echoed in his mind, soft yet filled with pain. "Yuno, do you not want to be with the crew anymore?" The heartbreak behind those words shattered Yuno’s resolve. He had never heard Lang sound so vulnerable, so lost. Yuno didn’t know how to answer him then, and he still didn’t know now. All he wanted was to ease Lang's headache, to make things right.
But could he? Could he really fix what he had broken?
Before he realized it, Yuno found himself at the quay by the sea. The world around him was quiet, save for the distant cries of seagulls and the gentle lapping of waves against the dock. He parked the car, stepping out into the cold night air. The salty breeze stung his eyes, or maybe that was the tears he didn’t want to acknowledge.
He walked to the edge of the dock, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his thoughts. The water stretched out before him, dark and endless. Yuno stared at it, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this lost. Lang had always been his anchor, his constant in the swirling chaos of Los Santos. And now, Yuno felt like he had ripped that anchor away, leaving both of them adrift.
His mind raced. What if I’m the problem? What if Lang would be better off without me? Yuno couldn’t shake the thought. He had always known he was different, always felt like he was somehow out of place—even among friends. Maybe this was his chance to set things right, to disappear before he caused any more harm.
The wind picked up, sending chills down his spine. He glanced down at the water, the surface dark and mysterious. A part of him wondered what it would feel like to let go, to sink into the depths and become one with the silence. Would it be better for everyone? Would it ease Lang’s pain, his headache?
Yuno’s heart ached with a heavy, unfamiliar sorrow. He thought about Lang—the way his eyes softened when he spoke to him, the rare moments when his tough exterior gave way to something gentle, something vulnerable. He thought about the way Lang had called him “baby,” the warmth in that word that made Yuno feel safe, made him feel… loved.
“Mr. Lang…” Yuno whispered to the cold, empty night. His voice trembled. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t know if Lang would ever forgive him, didn’t know if the others would ever trust him again. But the thought of Lang—alone, struggling to keep everyone together, to fight against a war that Yuno might have reignited—tore him apart.
Tears blurred his vision as he took another step closer to the edge. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lang’s face, the hurt in his eyes when he had asked Yuno that question. Maybe it would be better if Yuno just… vanished. Maybe then, Lang wouldn’t have to carry the burden of his mistakes. Maybe then, Lang could find peace.
Yuno’s breath hitched as he stared down at the water, its dark depths seeming to call to him. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears spill over his cheeks, mixing with the salt of the sea breeze.
I just want you to be happy, Mr. Lang... even if that means I’m not around.
The night was silent, save for the whisper of the wind and the distant crash of waves. And in that silence, Yuno stood on the precipice, torn between the pull of the deep, dark water and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a place for him in Lang’s world.
But that hope was fading, drowned out by the echoing doubts and the endless sea before him. As the minutes passed, Yuno remained there, teetering on the edge—unsure of what came next, unsure if he could find his way back, unsure if he even wanted to.
And then, with one last breath, he took a step forward.
The sea awaited, and the night held its breath.
