Hate | Nosung

16

Jisung wasn't one to regularly zone out. He always had a solid train of thought that was well under his control.

All until he was slouched against a classroom door in that little alcove, covered in bruises all well hidden beneath his clothing.

He couldn't tell how much time was passing as his mind was blank. He couldn't even focus on the throbbing of his injuries, though they were fairly mild. Nor was he able to distinguish the pain of one injury from that of another. It was all one big sum of pain.

Then, from somewhere in his backpack, his phone started vibrating. His consciousness was roped back in just enough to register that he should be checking who it was.

Like a zombie, his body sluggishly reached for the bag and retrieved the ringing device. Jaemin's contact name and photo lit up the screen.

He should've felt happy or relieved, but all he could feel was empty and aching.

Jisung sat, watching his phone ring a few more times before tapping the green button to answer.

"Hey."

"Jisung! Where are you right now?" Jaemin's voice was filled to the brim with worry.

"Uh..." How to explain such a situation as Jisung was in, the boy did not know. "In the visual art hallway. By the drinking fountain."

"Oh?" Jaemin clearly wasn't expecting that kind of answer. "Why are you there? Don't you know dance practice started like ten minutes ago?"

"Uhm..." Again, Jisung didn't know how to explain. Then he remembered dance. His solo. Oh how his aching ribs would detest running the routine he'd loved so much.

"Can-," his voice suddenly broke as the overdue swell of emotions finally gave way. He fought back tears and whispered into the line. "Can you come get me?"

Without a second of hesitation, Jaemin was on his feet and near sprinting his way to Jisung's location, all while staying on the phone. "On my way."

When the older boy got to the art hallway, he looked up and down the area. No Jisung. Then he remembered he was by the drinking fountain, and he walked further down the hall.

"Jisung?" He called out, both out loud and into the phone.

He spotted the familiar dance bag of his friend, which was sitting right at the corner of an alcove. His feet carried him swiftly to the space, dread bubbling up in his stomach with every passing step.

What he saw made him gasp, and his grip on the phone loosened significantly. He barely caught it by the corner before it could slip out of his hand completely.

Jisung was limply leaning on a classroom door when his teary eyes landed on Jaemin. He lowered his cell phone from his ear, revealing a small, bright red cut on his cheek. He'd gotten it from Miran's ring when she backhanded him. He nearly didn't remember it.

"Hyung," he shakily called out.

Without even bothering to end the call, Jaemin fell to his knees beside his young friend. "What's wrong? How'd you get this?" His fingers gently touched the skin next to the cut, and Jisung moved away with a wince.

Jaemin's eyes caught a flash of deep purples and sickly greens from under the collar of Jisung's shirt when the boy curled away from his touch. His gaze fixed onto Jisung's colorful collarbone.

"Jisungie, what happened?" His voice was ever-so gentle.

Despite that, Jisung couldn't get the words out of his mouth. Jaemin had already seen the bruises, so he knew something had happened, but Jisung was hesitant to name it.