♡ A story about learning to love, learning to hurt, learning to 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥 ― and most importantly, learning to be human. ♡
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 4x
Marino Hills, California in the mid-2000s is hypersensitive to the idea of change. It clings desperately t...
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THE SUMMER OF 2006 A Father-Son Moment
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Jisung Han has never been high off psychedelics before, but from what he's heard from Felix, it all feels a little like this. Floating on a cloud of oblivious euphoria, where every sense is amplified by myriad of colors dancing about in your mind. Worries melt away, an overheated glacier, leaving an array of happy-go-lucky emotions behind.
Every touch feels soreal, yet, every problem feels so distant—like a child stuffing their face full of rainbow candy floss, unbeknownst to the cavities forming between their rotting teeth.
Jisung wants it. Wants to feel it forever and ever and ever and—
He'd kissed Minho at least three more times before the broken-legged brunet shooed him out of his hospital room (since Jisung had been there for halfthe day...at least). He was the first person to sign Minho's cast, giddily signing his name in perfect cursive with a sloppily drawn heart trailing behind.
"Jisungie, you cannot draw for shit," Minho laughed, poking fun at the pink heart that resembled a deformed blob.
Jisungie. Minho called him Jisungie now.
He also learned some interesting new things about Minho: that he lives with his grandmother at Blossom Delights and has an addiction to animated shows.
"Hey! It's hard to write on a cast!" Jisung whined. He capped the Sharpie with a huff. "When you push me off a roof as revenge, you'll see."
There's another thing that Felix warned him about psychedelic highs.
The worst part about any high is when it all comes crashing down. An avalanche disturbed. When you finally pull your head out of the clouds and realize that life is just as shitty as it usually is.
Jisung doesn't come down from his "I KISSED A BOY!" high until he's half-skipped home from a janky busride, a generic pop song blasting from his iPod and into his eardrums. He's absentmindedly humming along to James Blunt's You're Beautiful when the buoyant bubble pops.
"You're home late. Again," his father notes, his voice stern, gruff, and surprisingly sober. "Where the hell were you? Huh? I called you several times."
"Out," Jisung responds. He eyes his father's pathetic attempt at a serious stance in the hallway, bottle of Jack Daniel's hand. "You're getting drunk. Again."
Jisung hardly registers his flippant attitude, as he's too busy wallowing in the mood swing from his crash landing, the effects of his high wearing off.
