♡ 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 Closing Act
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Jisung's pillow is still damp when he returns home—his soul completely hollowed out from loneliness, his body exhausted from lugging his backpack around all day. The world before him has lost its color, lost its honeyed sunlight.
Now, it's returned to everything he'd been running away from for the past few months. Monotonous. Melancholic. Murky. The world before him has never been so gray, so black, and every shade in between. It's like God and all his angels are attending the funeral of Jisung Han's heart, because a part of him died when Minho left him astray.
Jisung considers crying again when he plops into bed, but can't. He's spent all his tears, and now they all live in his pillow, holding the weight of a million sorrows. All that's left are his red-rimmed eyes as they stare blankly into his bedroom walls. All that's left is a swollen heart, longing for the impossible.
He bunches up one of Minho's jackets—the bright yellow one—into his hands, clinging it close to his chest. It's soft underneath the pads of his fingers, bright yellow like Minho's sunlight emissions, and still scented of cigarette ash and his signature cologne.
If only Minho, his ex-boyfriend, were here. He'd run his hands through Jisung's inky mess of hair, reassuring him that everything'll be alright, and that they only need each other. But Minho isn't here.
He left.
Jisung hates the person that's been born anew within him, hates the black cluster, the monster that claws at his heart, ripping it to shreds.
It hurts to breathe.
He squeezes the fabric tightly, and it crinkles under his fingertips. It smells just like Minho, and if Jisung deludes himself enough, it could very well be Minho. If only Minho were here to hold him tight; and whisper sweet nothings in his ear; and kiss him gently; and tell him that he loves him, loves him forever; and tell him that he'll never leave. Ever.
It's a strange thing, being alone. Not even Felix is here to breathe a little light into Jisung's soul. Not even John, who was once a father Jisung was capable of loving, could help Jisung back onto his feet.
Jisung is truly alone.
Alone, alone, alone.
Minho Lee is a distant memory now. Just another person in the sea of faces that's left him. Jisung won't even bother reaching out for someone who's never coming back.
Jisung sighs, staring intently at the wall in front of him, his eyelids drooping, heavy with exhaustion. He thinks of the 'Jisung Han' in the polaroids encased within a shoebox on his shelf. He wonders: Where has all his happiness gone?
