♡ 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 FALL OF 2006 The Aftermath
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There is nothing quite like young love.
The words were stolen off Jisung's tongue so quickly, he's certain that if he could go back in time to reevaluate his confession, he'd have held the words tightly. While his love for Minho is no secret, voicing it aloud ripped off any armor his heart once had, torn every fiber of protection that his heart once knew. Now, it can no longer protect itself.
Looking at Minho—or rather—a fucked-up, bloody faced version of Minho, sends a million bullets into the crevices of his heart.
It's painful to look at him.
He hasn't reached that kind of love where his eyes go all red-tinted and loveblind, and anything (even a marred, bloodied face) looks good on Minho. It doesn't.
Even with the blood scrubbed from his cheeks, Minho's face is still colored dangerously crimson. Garnet swings red streaks into ghastly pale skin. An unhappy gash sits in the middle of purple swelling around his eye. If Jisung hadn't known any better, Minho'd be unrecognizable.
Minho is horror-movie looking (and it's not even Halloween yet!). It's heartbreaking—it's the perfect environment for a heart-crushing burst.
All of this...Jisung runs his fingers along Minho's bloodied face...for being gay? Is it worth it?
Needless to say, Jisung Han, slightly inebriated, did not expect his Friday evening to go like this.
Ricky Campbell's clothes are strewn all over the floor; plaid, denim, boxer briefs; crushed up soda cans adding a touch of decor. The air reeks of cigarette ash and a flimsy cedarwood candle left to sit on the nightstand. Minho's head rests on Jisung's lap as the brunet pretends to sleep and horribly fails.
It's eleven-thirty on a Friday and Jisung's watching Minho fight against the swelling and aches in his body.
It all feels like...a twisted manifestation of a nightmare Jisung hasn't had.
"What'cha thinkin' about?" Minho grumbles. He cracks open his tired eyelids. "You keep bouncing your leg 'n shit. 'S hard to sleep."
There's an unmoving grimace on Minho's face when he speaks, and a bitter cracking in his voice. It's painful to listen to, like there's needles puncturing Jisung's eardrums. Ouch.
"Have you been beaten up before?"
"Excuse me?" Minho asks, stunned. "Where'd you get that idea from?"
"You're just...awfully calm for someone with a walking boot, scars all over your chest, and...did I mention you just got your ass kicked?"
