cherry club 🍒 minsung

ten

[ playboy ]

Jisung was dead asleep when he got the call, and Jisung never slept. He didn't fall asleep until his body collapsed from exhaustion and his eyelids were too heavy to hold. He wasn't sure if it was his insomnia or his anxiety that kept him awake for days on end, he just knew that he was moments away from passing out on his living room floor when he finally shut his eyes. Jisung’s ringtone was a soft piano piece that hardly alerted him during silence, so why the hell was it so damn loud? 

Groggily, he picked up the vibrating device and accepted the call. He didn't care if it was the President on the other line, he would not be woken up without consequence. 

“What do you want?” He grunted. Hyunjin huffed through the speaker, chewing Jisung out at two in the morning and spewing nonsense he was too tired to comprehend. “It's too late for this shit, Hyunjin. What do you want?” 

“Hannie.” 

Oh good fucking god, Jisung couldn’t catch a break. Minho’s sniffly voice transported Jisung back, and suddenly he was storming out of the club, trying and failing to distract himself from Minho’s devastated cries. 

“Can you come here?” Minho asked, and Jisung almost caved. He’s never heard Minho sound so pitiful, not when he left, not when he retold the alleyway incident, and not when Bambam said those awful things to him. Something in Jisung’s guarded heart crumbled, but he knew better. 

He sighed and rubbed the gunk from his bloodshot eyes. “Minho, please. I thought I told you we were done.” He was stern, despite wanting to run into Minho’s arms like an eager puppy. “Don’t use Hyunjin to get to me.” 

“No!” Minho yelled. Jisung winced at his shrill tone and placed his phone on his bedside table, hitting the speaker button before pulling his blanket over his head. “Jisung, please. You don't understand, I need you.” 

I need you. Why would Minho possibly need him? What did he have to offer that Minho couldn’t find elsewhere? Ah, he knew what it was.

“I needed you too, Min. I know it's hard, but you’ll stop missing me, or my dick, or whatever.” 

My money was unspoken. 

“Ji, come to Cherry Club, okay?” Hyunjin demanded. Jisung wanted to scream. He swore the day he left he’d never again see the neon sign of Cherry Club as long as he lived. “Something bad happened.” What could possibly be so awful that Hyunjin had to-
“If you're not here in the next fifteen minutes, I'm taking Minho and dealing with his rapist myself.” 

The air in Jisung’s lungs escaped in a guttural hiss, and he tossed his blanket to the floor. “His what? What did you just say, Hyunjin?” He snarled, tossing a shirt over his naked torso. It smelt like nacho cheese and coffee beans, but he had bigger problems than dirty laundry. He would fucking murder whoever laid a hand on his Minho. 

Hyunjin sighed. “Fifteen minutes, Sung.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

Hell, he’d be there in five at the max, no matter what buildings or cars he had to barrel through on his way. Jisung grabbed the first pair of keys on the rack and hit unlock. 

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned when the purple Chiron beeped to life. It seems that his body and his mind were drowning in thoughts of Minho. He slid into the driver's seat and sped out of the garage.

The speedometer said he was going 120 down the highway, and he knew he could go faster. His car was a blur of purple lights as he weaved between merging cars and terrified pedestrians. God, would Minho really be the reason for his first speeding ticket? He was usually careful with his driving, street racing on backroads Google maps had never seen. So why the hell was he pushing 200 on a public highway littered with egotistical cops? (ACAB, by the way). Oh yeah, Minho. Minho and the guy who was about to be six feet under.