♡ 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 2007 The Curtain Call
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Jisung's heart palpitates, hammering beneath his chest cavity while his mind whirls with anxiety. There's a whalebone corset around his chest—tightening with tension, and yet again, he's wondering how he finds himself in these situations.
Either God is a cruel god, and is severely punishing him, or the universe is absolutely ruthless.
(Or both.)
"Jisung," his father repeats, his name falling off John's lips in a...relieved sigh.
Jisung doesn't know how to feel about it all; not with a racing heart and fear twisting in his veins; not with tears stabbing incessantly at the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak out.
He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. No, John doesn't get to act 'normal' after beating him to a pulp for a month straight.
Jisung's knuckles pale at the tips.
"Why are you calling, Dad?" Jisung asks, eyes trained to the door. "T–This is Miss Soo's number."
On the other end, Jisung's father sighs.
"Son, I—we miss you," he replies, and the words are heavy, laced with sadness and regret. "It's just not the same without you. I—we regret ever sending you there.So, we have been talking to Miss Soo about bringing you home."
Jisung doesn't know what to say. The words have been stolen off of his tongue, appropriated, and transformed into the incoherent thoughts in his mind.
It's not fair. It's too late.
Jisung doesn't know what to say. He's not sure if he can say anything. Jisung doesn't even realize he's begun to cry until he tastes the salt on his lips.
"W–When?" he whispers, voice wavering.
"As soon as possible," John explains. "I—no, we want you to come back now."
Jisung is at a loss for words. He can't think straight, not with the cacophony of thoughts encumbering his poor brain. He can't breathe, not with how the air has thinned in Miss Soo's office. All he can do is cry into a trembling palm, muffling the noise.
It's not fair. It's not fair.
It's not fair.
"Jisung," his father calls, his voice blade-cutting through the haze. "Are you still there?"
Jisung wipes the tears from his eyes, sniffling.
"Y–Yeah, Dad. I'm here." Barely.
It'snot fair to withhold an apology until it's too late and all the damage has been done. It's not fair to strike your hands on your child, watching garnet bloom from unimposing skin, all in the name of love. It's not fair to let the months swing by without your 'nuisance' of a child, only to realize your wrongdoings so late down the line, an apology loses its value. It means nothing.
