close // minsung

🔅fourteen🔅

TW: mentions of abuse

Lies I have told Minho:

1. I lived in America during high school. Specifically Las Vegas.

What state is that in? California?

2. I moved there during my junior high days and stayed there up until a year ago.

3. The reason was that my dad got a job there. Need to figure out what job.

His job doesn't require traveling. You know what add that to the end of the list.

4. I decided to come back to Korea to pursue my music career.

5. Whatever job my dad does that requires traveling. Further research needs to be conducted.

This list will probably continue. Fuck.

Jisung anxiously tapped his pencil on the blue-lined paper of his notebook. Hidden amongst the half-baked ideas of lyrics and melodies was the rising dough of lies that Jisung had created. If he was going to form a false narrative, Jisung needed to keep track of every little detail of said story.

Jisung can craft prodigious tales through songwriting, how hard can it be to do the same to someone's face?

It's hard. Really hard, actually.

Jisung beat himself up inside till his organs were black and blue for this. He didn't want to lie to Minho. He loathed the feeling he got inside whenever his mouth would spew more falsities, and watch Minho's eyes sparkle at the fools gold Jisung gave to him.

But all Jisung wanted was to remain desirable in Minho's eyes. He couldn't fathom letting go of the newfound feelings the elder harbored for him. He didn't want Minho to realize the embarrassment of who Han Jisung really was. Someone who used to uselessly pine after him with no chance. Someone who was hopeless. Someone who wasn't worth Minho's time.

Jisung groaned loudly, burying his face into his hands. He shook his head as he squished his cheeks in his palms.

What did I get myself into?

Maybe Minho will never have to know-

A loud buzzing interrupts his thoughts as his phone rang on his desk. Hands still molded onto his face, Jisung's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Who would be calling him this late in the evening?

Jisung's right hand lurched towards the the screaming phone, and he couldn't tell whether his heart pumped with a hysteria behind it or an impending doom.

min 💙🦋 is calling...

If Jisung's heart was a car, it was speeding down a highway going 120 miles per hour on a 70 mile speed limit. His engine was overheating, and the brake pedals couldn't save him.

Maybe Minho heard the lies that geared in my brain from miles away, since they were so loud.

Shut up Jisung, stop being so pessimistic.

He had never been on a phone call with Minho before. Even though Jisung had gone on a date with Minho, texted him frequently, and known him for years at this point, which of course Minho still wasn't aware of, something about a phone call still made Jisung's nerves run rampant at the thought.

What if he sounds like he just woke up, and his voice gets all raspy?

What if he wants to FaceTime?