oblivion ; minsung

"deception of the roses"

life and death warred
and the world quaked at their rage
the vessels were broken
the balance was shattered
and life and death
poured over the earth
uncontainable, toxic
beautiful
and as earth burned
they fought nevertheless

they were to be punished

──

All night, Jisung's mind is firing on all cylinders. The dreams have been getting louder. More constant. More vivid. The dark figure, the words spinning around him like a frigid gust of wind. He wakes up panting and disoriented.

And it's almost noon. Shit. Minho's party.

He gets ready at warp speed, gives Nini a kiss on the cheek and runs out the door. Once again he finds himself outside the Lees' mansion. This time the gate guard doesn't give him any trouble, just waves him through silently. He walks on the brown grass beside the driveway, letting the Audis and Porsches pass by. I guess I'm fashionably late, he thinks.

He steps onto the porch and knocks on the door. His fingers are crossed in his pocket, willing somebody, anybody other than Minho's father to answer. Jisung can tell his presence is going to make some kind of statement. If there has to be drama, he'd rather have Minho by his side.

Thankfully a maid comes to the door. He tells her that Minho invited him, and she calls up to his room on the intercom. A second later she says, "Mr. Lee would like to see you in his bedroom." (How does that statement not raise even a little intrigue on her face?) Jisung thanks her, walks through the foyer and climbs the stairs. He feels like a VIP, invited upstairs while the rest of the guests are shepherded out back.

He walks to the last room and just as he's about to knock, the door swings open. "Hey! I'm glad you're here, come in."

He stops short. Minho is dressed up properly, a navy suit and matching tie, brown hair brushed back out of his face. He's so fucking handsome — it feels like a shot of adrenaline.

"You look really good," Jisung says when he realizes he's staring.

"Jesus, are you kidding? So do you. Come on, I found something for you."

Minho closes the door behind him. The bedroom is big and sparse, black-out curtains stamping out the light. His queen bed is made, duvet tucked in nicely. There are no decorations on the walls or trinkets on the desk.

"Oh," Jisung murmurs. "Very... minimalist."

"First thing I did when I turned 18 — bought a storage unit and moved everything I cared about out of the house. I was tired of my mother going through my shit, trying to find, I dunno, drugs I guess."

"So everything you own is just in a storage unit somewhere?"

"Mm, and now my drugs are safe. Come here, I found something you'll want to see." Minho sits on his bed and holds out something small. Jisung sits next to him and takes it. It's a photo. "I thought I burned all my old school pictures, but somehow my mother had one just sitting around. Maybe she was planning to use it as blackmail."

Jisung holds it under the lamplight, squinting down at the wallet-sized photo. Minho is much younger, with an angular bowl-cut covering most of his face. His eyes are guarded, exhausted. A little bit lifeless.

"That's the kid who spent all his free time talking to the birds at the beach — or as most knew him, 'that loser, who's his father?'"

"Poor closeted you," Jisung smiles. "You don't look like yourself. Your eyes are kind of dead."