♡ 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 Forgiveness & Openness
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Wednesday evenings at the Smith's end about as quickly as they started. Jisung is grounded. As always, however, being on 'punishment' only increases the likelihood of Jisung sneaking out of the house. That's how you could explain how he found himself here.
Serene Shores' walls are white. A muted color as opposed to the usual pastel blues or pale pinks, if not an unfortunate hospital-issued shade of ivory. Minho's bed is covered with a soft, lilac comforter with matching colored sheets, pillows piled up on the side against the wall—and the window above him to the left is dressed in violet and cream-colored curtains. An array of flowers sit on the window seal to his right. It smells vaguely of daisies and roses. It also smells like bleach.
A cardboard box sits half-empty atop his temporary mattress. Inside is a single outfit folded up and crammed alongside three mangas and the information containing his prescription details.
Turns out, when the nurses predicted a release date within the next week, they weren't wrong. Here Jisung (who's supposed to be grounded—not in a mental facility after a thirty-minute series of bus rides) is, helping Minho pack what little there is to refer to as "his belongings."
"Thank you for being here." Minho looks up, smoothing his hands over the fabric of his jeans. There are still dots of blood on them that the washing machine just can't get out. "I know...'S not the best circumstances. How'd you know that I was getting released today?"
Oh, uh, y'know, the usual. I just spam-called the front desk for any information they had on your release so I could be here for the big day—
No. Jisung, you sound like a stalker.
"Um, when I came with Leon, the nurses predicted that you'd be let out today," Jisung says, tugging at the strings of his father's black hoodie. "I thought...you might need some help with packing up."
Minho nods, a small smile gracing his lips. "That's really sweet of you, Jisung." Then, he draws out a sigh. "Unfortunately, there's not a lot to pack. You don't exactly bring a suitcase with you when you try to kill yourself."
Jisung purses his lips together as a tiny laugh befalls Minho's lips; Jisung doesn't find it funny. Accompanied with the fresh gauze wrapped around Minho's wrist, the whole scene is too morbid to digest (without being a complete psychopath.) Minho must sense the uneasiness radiating off of Jisung because he quickly changes the subject, raising his bandaged wrist to rub at the nape of his neck.
He clears his throat. "W–Well, how've you been?"
Jisung shrugs. He rocks back and forth on his heels as he eyes the white ceiling tiles overhead.
