07 | kiss and make up

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7

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THE SUMMER OF 2006
Ending Summer Break

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"Something up? You haven't eaten."

Jisung glances up from his soggy bowl of Frosted Flakes, having spent the latter portion of breakfast listening to the clink of his spoon against porcelain. When Jisung lifts his spoon, the cereal is brittle on his tongue, far too sweet, and nauseatingly so.

He hasn't eaten much ever since breaking things off with Minho. He hasn't been able to. His appetite never seems to accept the food it's given. All of his meals taste stale to the tongue.

John's expression betrays his concern—Jisung can feel the worry all the way from the other end of the dinner table (one that's decorated with faux fruit and glazed in a mahogany finish).

"Jisung...," John speaks again after Jisung's silent response. "Still not talking to me?"

"Nope," Jisung mumbles, words in tandem with rapid clink!s of his spoon against the bowl.

His breakfast doesn't resemble something edible anymore—rather, an ugly mess of gooey cereal that mirrors the mess in his heart. Heartbreak. It feels like Jisung's heart has melted into something unrecognizable, morphed into something worse than broken. If you break something, there's a possibility to glue it back together. You can't restore something that's been deformed back to its original state.

Jisung knows it hasn't truly broken. He knows that his heart is still the same volatile organ he's always known it to be and wishes he never had.

"C'mon, sport." John's frown droops, wrinkles protruding from his spotty forehead. "Your mom's coming back next month. Do you really want her to get involved?"

"No." Jisung's voice is small and weak, his throat tight and dry. It feels like he's at war with himself just to speak.

John sighs, carding his fingers through his thinning hair. "Then talk to me. Please."

It's moments like these where Jisung feels a little bad; when his father desperately tries to get in and Jisung vehemently denies entry. John is trying, he knows that, but sometimes, trying isn't enough. Jisung still can't shake the past off his shoulders, still can't erase the evenings spent inebriated or the ridiculous spouting of Jisung's apparent need for a girlfriend.

All of John's current actions are stained with those of the past. Jisung can't ignore it—he can't ignore how it hurt. But maybe that's the problem. Jisung knows he can't forget, so instead, he just won't let John in. He'll ignore the elephant in the room until it trumpets so loud he can't ignore it.

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