Alone {𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔾}

Chapter Eleven

JISUNG ROLLED OVER ON HIS BED, THE HINGES CREAKING LOWLY AGAINST THE SILENT NIGHT. No matter how hard he tried, his eyes just couldn't grow heavy enough to lull him into a much needed slumber.

His mind was too preoccupied with other things, though one thought preceded the rest. He bit his lip, knowing that if he was caught, what would unfold would be far from pleasant. His inner turmoil ended once he heard his parents' hushed voices coming from the bedroom across the hall, before everything quietened.

He sucked in a small breath, quietly swinging his legs over the side of the bed, tossing the blankets to the side in the process. He crept to his bedroom door and opened it a crack, peeping around the hallway, only to find that it was deserted, not a single light shining throughout the home.

Most of the floorboards allowed him to continue unnoticed across the hall, except the last one. A loud squeak echoed beneath his feet, and he held his breath for a few moments before he continued his journey down to the house's main floor when he couldn't hear any sound from the other room.

He entered the kitchen, switching on the light to its dimmest setting before approaching the telephone on wobbly legs. His hands shook as he reached for the receptor, only to stop a few centimeters away.

He bit his lips, his eyes gravitating towards the floor in thought. Was this really a good idea? He pushed the thoughts away, and gently pried the piece of plastic from the rest of the telephone box, clicking to the only unknown number on the recent callers' list.

His heart pounded in time with the dull – yet piercing – ring on the other end of the phone. After a few rings, he began to deflate as his hopes came crashing down around him in a burning flash of embers and smoke.

Until... until a voice broke the endless train of thoughts swirling around in his mind. "H...Hello?" The voice was quiet – barely audible – but Jisung would recognize it anywhere. "J-Jiyeon," he whispered, his bottom lip trembling as tears assaulted his eyes.

He tried to blink them away, but a few managed to trail down his cheeks in useless heaps, and he hastily wiped them away with the back of his arm. "Jisung? Jisungie?" Jiyeon's voice cracked, and the boy choked on his next few words.

"Noona," he said it as more of a question; as if he couldn't figure out whether this was truly reality or an unimaginable dream. Before anything else could be said, the strawberry blond heart footsteps approaching the kitchen.

He gasped, hurriedly hanging up the phone and turning away from the small table.

"Jisung? What on Earth are you doing?" his father questioned lowly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Just getting a glass of water." Jisung smiled weakly, although he knew very well that he was on the other side of the kitchen from the glass cupboard.

Either his father chose not to comment on it or was too groggy to notice, since the middle-aged man simply shrugged his shoulders and turned around to walk back up the stairs. "Now go back to bed," he stated gruffly and Jisung couldn't help but comply, casting one last longing look at the telephone.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The weekend was agonizing for Jisung, to say the least. Felix didn't send him a single message, and anxiety brewed deep within him thinking that maybe he'd passed over a permanent line that he couldn't cross again.

Not only that, but his encounter with Minho and the fact that when he'd gone back to check the number his sister had used to call him it was gone didn't help the situation at hand, either. So when he strolled into school on Monday with hunched shoulders and dark eye bags, it took everyone by surprise.

The usually cheerful boy had never looked like a zombie a single day in his life; his bright smile compensated for any look of fatigue that could've made him look less energetic. People, quite frankly, didn't know how to approach him.

It made him realize just how shallow people really were, and all of a sudden, he felt a spark light up inside him. Surely, they'd been wrong about Minho too, if they judged him because he looked tired.

He wasn't about to give up, because Minho was right.

He wasn't going to stand by and watch people get hurt anymore.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Jisung set out to find Felix by the time lunch rolled around; they didn't have any classes together that day, and he really couldn't bear the silent treatment anymore. He didn't really know what he'd done wrong – only what had triggered this sudden hostility in his friend.

"Felix!" he called as he approached the boy's locker, who tensed and slowly turned around to face the other. Jisung could tell that Felix hadn't gotten much rest either, judging by the dark eye bags present on his own flawless face as well.

"I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry," he stated earnestly, and Felix smiled softly at him. "Don't worry about it. I overreacted," he mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. The two hugged out like any good friends would, and Jisung was relieved that at least one of his many, piling problems was erased from his plate.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Minho bit into his sandwich, which was bland on his tongue, but he really couldn't care any less. He'd decided to avoid sitting in the cafeteria that day, so he found himself sitting on the outskirts of the school in a soft patch of grass; he wasn't in the best mood, and he craved solitude more than anything.

At least, that's what he'd told himself.

He couldn't really crave something he'd never experienced, after all, and the dull ache of loneliness implanted in his heart was familiar. He loosed a quiet sigh and turned his attention towards the grey clouds dotting and concealing the blueness of the sky, and the sun.

The sun.

He thought back to what Jisung had told him about how he hated rain because the clouds obscured the sun. He wanted to forget the conversation oh-so-desperately, because if anything, it gave him hope.

Where there are clouds, there's a sun, hidden from view.

He didn't want to believe that somewhere beyond the thick, dark clouds of his mind, something would be able to light up his world in such a way that it would keep him alive. Or someone. He banished the thought almost as quickly as it had come, because who would ever want to be around him?

Doom-and-gloom, rude, sarcastic and ugly – he had nothing going for him.

Hope always led to heartbreak, and heartbreak was not a good place for Minho. Dark thoughts trailed after it like a dog on a leash, and dark thoughts... dark thoughts brought him to events like his accident.

His parents had always called it an accident, but could it really be considered so when what he'd done had been purposefully executed? He'd never voiced those thoughts aloud – he didn't want to cause any more damage to his family than he already had.

As the clouds moved out of the way, and he squinted as his eyes were assaulted with an onslaught of sunshine, someone stepped in the way of the rays, causing a halo of light to form around their head as they peered down at him, although all Minho managed to see was a darkened silhouette.

"Excuse me; I'm new here and I was wondering if you could point me in the right direction...?"

A/N: I'm trYING to catch up to that word count.

I feel like I could've written this chapter a lot better ;-;

Q: What's your usual writing routine?

A: Well, I write. And then I proofread. And then I spellcheck with the standard one on Word. THEN I spellcheck again with Grammarly because sometimes it's useful -(0.0)-

Lots of love,

~Junnie 

P.S: I've just discovered that I love Alec Benjamin's music. It's great for writing :o (ok now I'm crying what are these sONGS MAN)

P.P.S: Stray Kids are having ANOTHER comeback wtf I haven't recovered yet and wHEN DO THEY REST?!