♡ 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 WINTER OF 2006 Unlearning Sin
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Gossip runs rampant through the auditorium during orientation, and for some reason, Jisung feels like he's the topic of discussion.
His names of many forms bounce off the serpentine tongues of every other sinner in the area: The New Kid, The American, or some have the decency to call him by his name. He can't exactly hear coherent sentences, though—not through the cacophony of hushed whispers in a blend of Korean and English that's near impossible to understand.
His head hurts.
After his first treatment, Miss Soo kindly stuffed his arms with the Saint Augustine's handbook (with content stretching over three-hundred pages), his room keys, his schedule, a pamphlet of anti-homosexuality Bible verses, and his own travel size Bible. If Jisung's being honest, he doesn't exactly remember what his treatment consisted of, as his brain is a little foggy, but if his stained tears are anything to go by, it couldn't have been good.
And everyone is just staring at him, turning their eyes into flash cameras and mouths into microphones. Like he's a celebrity and they're paparazzi, trying to uncover the inside scoop.
It's not fair. Jisung just got here.
He wonders what they know, wonders if they know everything. He wonders if they know who he likes, what he likes, and why he came here. If they know that he and Minho are lovers, that his mother hates him for it, and that his alcoholic father beats him for it.
A chill runs down his spine, frostbite. He shouldn't be thinking these things.
But, he can't help but worry.
What do they know?
Jisung clambers into a seat at the end of the auditorium, the last available seat, and watches the stage. He hugs his backpack close to his chest, reaching his hand inside to cling onto MiMi's soft, little paw. The one with the dot of blood on it.
If he deludes himself enough, Minho Lee is right here, reassuring him that it'll all be okay. Jisung tries his best to imagine honey, strawberries, and lavender coexisting with ash. Thinks of leather jackets in the wintertime and yellow jumpers in the summer. Thinks of a broken boy with healing scars all over his chest and prays that God will protect him from any more pain.
Missing someone is an interesting concept. It really turns the good-minded into the insane.
The headmaster steps onstage, and the murmurs come to a sudden halt, replaced with dead silence. He's a tall, lanky man wearing a black, long-sleeved button up and an even blacker tie, standing in front of the podium at the center of the stage, just beneath a nailed Jesus statue to The Cross. His hands are neatly folded together, his posture straight and his chin held high.
