daybreak || minsung

Chapter 8

"I don't even know." I knew talking didn't help.

"Minho?" another voice said, and I was instantly alert. That familiar, melodic tone cured me in a second — less.

I looked up, and there he was — closer than I expected. He was trading glances between me and Mike.

"Are you okay?" In a balletic movement, he was on one knee, eye level with me, holding his hands out while also staying out of arm's-reach.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. His eyes were anxious, and it made me anxious.

"He fainted," Mike said, leaning down to our height.

"What happened to your forehead?" Jisung asked.

"It hit the desk," Mike answered.

"I wasn't talking to you," Jisung hissed, whipping his head to Mike. Mike flinched backward and fell on his butt. My eyebrows shot up.

Jisung turned back to me, eyes gentle. "Can I take you to the nurse?"

"I'm supposed to do it," Mike protested. I could tell he was trying to be tough, but his voice was small. I wondered why taking me to the nurse was the hill he was willing to die on — metaphorically, of course...

Jisung glared at him, and Mike instinctively put his hands up, like he was protecting himself. I rested my chin on my knees, wondering how much longer they were going to keep sparring.

"Can I pick you up?" Jisung asked then, moving closer to me. His honey eyes were devastatingly clear. I nodded blankly.

And then the pavement disappeared from underneath me, and Jisung held me in his arms (purposefully away from his body). Already we were walking toward the nurse's office, and away from Mike — whom I heard wheeze quietly from the corner of my ear. I almost couldn't tell we were moving; Jisung's gait was so graceful and controlled that I wasn't jostled at all. As soon as I got my bearings, I slyly hooked my arm around his neck.

He kept his eyes ahead of us.

I gave up trying not to stare. Being that close to him, I could see every detail of his skin. There was a strip of light on his nose, reflected from the grey sky, and it accentuated the soft roundness of it. His lips were thin, sort of heart-shaped, and the sweetest cotton-candy pink colour. I could see the slight remnants of acne scars on his cheeks — a change in texture. I was so mesmerized by his beauty that I unthinkingly brought my hand to his cheek and ran my thumb over the rough patch. His skin was still cold, but I didn't even want to interrogate him about it. I just wanted to keep staring at him, touching him.

His eyes darted to my face.

I sucked my lips into my mouth and took my hand away. "Sorry."

"So you pass out at the sight of blood?" he moved on.

I scoffed. "Bold of you to assume I needed more than a poker to my finger to make me faint."

He blinked at me, like he was sidetracked for a second. "Just the poker?"

"Yup."

"You're afraid of the wrong things."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not as scary as you think. I honestly can't tell if I'm speaking to a human or a puff pastry right now."

"Okay, do you want me to dump you right here on this sidewalk?"

"I know you won't."

He let me fall for a fraction of a second — I shrieked and flailed my arms — but he caught me, smiling and pulling me closer than he had before.