42 (hyunminsung)

4

As soon as the school bell signaled the end of classes, everyone rushed to their lockers to get home as quickly as possible. But that didn't apply to Jisung. He lingered in his seat for a few more minutes until he sighed and decided to head home.

On the way home, he kicked rocks that came in his path. He simply didn't want to go back home, if you could even call it that.

Jisung needed the feeling of home, he knew it well, but he didn't want to admit it.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the brown old door. Carefully and silently, he pushed it open and peeked inside.

"No one anywhere," he smiled and quickly made his way to his room. He threw his backpack into the corner of the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. He sighed.

He always felt bored at home, with nothing to do. All he had was a table and a bed, a few things for school, and a half-broken phone. Most of his time was spent writing lyrics for his songs or taking walks outside.

Disgruntled, he got up and shuffled to the door. Just as he was about to turn the handle, shouting erupted.

"You ungrateful brat! Who do you think pays for the food! How dare you take an app-" Jisung didn't pay attention to that anymore, he simply blocked everything out with his thoughts.

He slowly approached the window, as if no one was talking to him. He knew the older man yelling from the lower part of the house was too lazy to climb a few stairs to the attic.

He opened the attic window and climbed onto the roof. He did it too often, so he knew exactly when to climb down to avoid being seen or heard by other household members.

Carefully, he climbed to the other side of the roof, where there was a big tree. He caught hold of its branches and slowly descended using the trunk.

"Darn it," he cursed. He hadn't noticed that one of the branches was cut off. "And when did they start caring about the garden," the blond remarked grumpily and jumped to the ground.

But he hadn't prepared well for such a height, and his ankle crunched.

"Ow... great," he remarked with a hiss. He looked around the garden in case he was spotted and quickly headed away...

With a limping gait, he made his way to the all-too-familiar river. He sat on the edge of a smaller bridge and gazed up at the stars above him. Since he was a child, he had believed that every new star was a departed soul from the earth.

"Hello, Mom, how are you up there? I hope you're happy, if you are, then so am I. I would love to visit you and see you... hug you. Would I be happy too if I went to you?... I want to be happy," he stood up again on the edge of the bridge, as he did the previous day, and sighed. Slowly, he leaned over the river below him, but something stopped him. The memory of the two boys who had stopped him the previous night.

Do it! What are you waiting for?

Instead of listening to his inner voice, he sat down again and gazed at the stars. Tears began to flow from his eyes, and this quiet place was filled with his sobs. He couldn't hold it in any longer, he tried to be strong for his mother, but he knew deep down that hw would never be...

"Minho?" the taller boy asked. It was already evening, school had ended hours ago, and both boys were resting at home on the couch watching a movie.

"Yes hun?" Minho grunted, still watching the sweetness unfolding on TV.

"Wanna go for a walk? We could go to the convenience store for some late-night snacks," Hyunjin blurted out of the blue.

"That sounds like a great plan!" Minho laughed and tossed Hyunjin's hoodie over his head.

"Hey, you can't just steal my hoodie like that!" the taller boy dramatically clutched his heart.
"GIVE ME YOURS THEN!" he exclaimed with a smirk on his face.

"Here you go!" Minho threw the hoodie to Hyunjin, who quickly pulled it over his head and buried his nose in it.
"It smells like you!" the black-heard boy said happily. Both of them put on their shoes and walked hand in hand to the convenience store. Along the way, they playfully pushed each other and joked until they heard a voice.

"Love, who would be by the river this late?" the taller one asked Minho.
"I don't know, wait," he pondered, then widened his eyes. He grabbed Hyunjin's hand and pulled him towards the river.

"Hello, Mom, how are you up there? I hope you're happy, if you are, I am too. I'd love to visit you and see you... hug you. Would I be happy too if I went to you?... I want to be happy," a very familiar voice echoed to them. Then the boy stood up and leaned over the river.

"J-" Hyunjin wanted to call out, but the boy sat back on the edge of the bridge again. His sobbing and wailing filled the silence.

Minho looked at Hyunjin in alarm and whispered, "Hyun, what should we do?" He looked into his eyes, which clearly showed that Hyunjin didn't know either.

On the other side, Jisung began to tremble, not only from the cold but also from the weight of his sobs. At times, he even choked on his own tears. A few moments later, the lovers noticed , and in the blink of an eye, they stood right behind Jisung. Hyunjin reached out to the little boy. He hesitated for a moment not to disturb his comfort, but then he placed his hand on Jisung's shoulder anyway.

This scared Jisung. He quickly turned around, he staggered. Another hand caught him, so he was caught between the two boys, whose faces couldn't be seen in the darkness that surrounded them.

Once he realized theres presence, the memory of the previous night flashed before Jisung's eyes. At the memory, he burst into tears even more than before.

Unable to watch, Minho pulled the smaller boy into their embrace. Jisung was reminded of the warmth he received every morning from his mother. Without hesitation, he pressed closer to the boys, finding their warmth incredibly comforting.

"Breath, yes? Deep inhale and deep exhale, that's it," Minho comforted the crying boy, stroking him gently.
"You're doing great," Hyunjin praised him as Jisung began to calm down.

He lingered pressed against the pair for a moment longer. He enyoed the feeling of one of the boys stroking his back and the other running his fingers through his hair. He hadn't experienced such care and love in a long time.

"Better, sweetie?" one of the boys said, waking Jisung from his trance, and with wide eyes, he pushed the boys away. The cold enveloped him again, and he shivered.

"Jesus, he's only wearing a shirt!" Minho exclaimed.