ill humor | minsung

prolouge

"feelin' good, if i could feel your mood."

✿

"You can help me, can't you?" The brunette asked, a thin smile spreading across his face while he scratched the nape of his neck. He stood only an inch or two taller than Jisung, but it felt like he was 6ft tall with the aura he emanated into the cold winter's air.

Han Jisung had never regretted taking up a writing job as much as he did this. "If it's an essay you want, that'll be 15 bucks for 5 pages, buddy." He commented through the warmth of the scarf wrapping around the lower half of his face. Pushing his snow covered bike alongside him through the shoulder of the road, Jisung wasn't so sure why he even gave this soccer player the time of day.

The soccer player only pursued the young writer as he made his way home. All he wore was the school uniform and a thin hoodie under the protection of a gray tweed blazer, Jisung wondered how he wasn't freezing to death on the spot. "It's not an essay," the latter quietly exasperated, the translucent clouds of condensation of his breath dissipating into the atmosphere. "It's a love letter."

Jisung stopped in his snowy imprinted tracks and threw a sideways glance to the taller beside him. "A what?" He paused, weighing his options. For one, helping a jock would surely come in handy to fighting off the usual torment he received from the athletes. But that did pose a challenge, why would he help the enemy? It's not like he had ever loved anyone in the first place, so he had no idea how to write a piece that conveyed such the emotion.

"A love letter," Minho repeated, standing beside Jisung on the road. "You know, like that thing where you confess your love to someone. You're the writer here, not me. How do you not know what it is?"

"No, I know what it is, okay?" He deadpanned in response. "Why do you need help anyways? A love letter isn't that hard to write, all you do is say 'I love you' and other sappy things." Jisung continued his trek up the hill where Minho was still following him like a lost puppy who didn't seem to get the hint.

The older groaned beside him, almost crumpling the draft letter he wrote to show Jisung. "That's exactly my point, I don't know how to say any of those things." Minho kicked a pile of loose snow on the side of the road as he followed closely beside Jisung. "Everything that I feel is so hard to say, especially when the one I want to say it to is someone I shouldn't even love."

A small breeze whistled through the trees, kissing the dead autumn leaves that had been left behind with the season's changing. "Forbidden love, huh, Romeo?" The writer asked, thinking over his senior's predicament with curiosity. It was truly a situation taken out of a mid-sixteenth century play— the handsome young prince is in love with a woman who he could never be with. Instead, he writes her letters professing his love in secrecy, hoping their already dwindling flame will continue to warm his heart.

Of course, Jisung was going to enjoy every twist and turn that came with this roller coaster. "The most forbidden love of all forbidden loves," Minho responded.

Jisung nodded, humming at Minho's overdramatic behavior. How bad could his crush on a girl be anyways, it isn't a first world problem. "So, she's got a strict dad, or like, she already has a boyfriend and you're still seeing her?"

"More like..." The older started off, pausing in the middle of the road as he thought about how to word his answer. "More like she isn't even a she." He hesitantly glanced at the younger, "I'm in love with Bang Chan."

For the first time in their small interaction, Minho's vulnerability was peeking through the air of confidence he brought with him. It was subtle, definitely, but Jisung could see through it. A boy who struggled, much like himself, to come to terms with who he is and with the guilt of a taboo weighing down on his shoulders. Minho was different from everyone else, and that was something you didn't want to be when you lived in a small town where normalcy was key to an okay life. Jisung felt pity, pity because Minho was different. Because he loved someone he couldn't but was still stupid enough to pursue them.

"And you still want to tell him how you feel?" The writer asked. If he were to help Minho, it would mean risking his own repercussions. It was like being an accomplice to a crime.

Minho nodded, once again holding out the drafted letter he wrote for Chan. "Like I said, love doesn't just change because you want it to. I know it's bad to love another boy, which is why I need your help to tell him how I feel. This is the only way to make me come to terms with my self, once and for all."

Slowly, Jisung took the letter, unfolding the paper and surveying through its contents. Minho wasn't a bad writer, much to the younger's surprise. He wrote with a lot of understanding of love, so much so that Jisung could feel it. The way his words warmed his cold and numb body in the dead of winter, the way the ink hastily splattered across the page as if Minho was spewing everything that came to mind, the way the paper was so crisp under the delicate touch of his fingertips. Minho was a writer, but a reckless one. One who wrote everything on his mind.

"I'll help you, then." Jisung finally answered, looking up from the letter and meeting gazes with the soccer player. He handed the letter back with the same delicacy in which minho handed it to him. "But you still have to pay me."

Minho's thin smile stretched into a large one as he took the letter back. "You're the best, Jisung. I'll give you the money tomorrow at school!" Quickly turning around after bidding his farewell, Minho skipped down the hill before he only became a dot in Jisung's line of sight.

The younger only stood there, wondering what type of mess would come of this.