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The music resumed and filled the room. Something angry, loud, all drums and harsh rap lines and a quick beat. Minho had turned away from Jisung as soon as the younger had spoke with a face set like stone. The way the smile had slipped away made Jisung feel all hollow.
Jisung hesitated by the door, torn between the need to talk to Minho and the fear of Minho turning that angry glare in Jisung's direction.
Both won. Need drove Jisung to stalk over to the speaker and unplug it from the wall. Fear blossomed in his throat when Minho gave him a look that made his stomach turn.
"What can I tell you?" Minho's voice was discordant and unrecognisable. "Seems like Chan got there first."
There was a moment when Minho thought Jisung was going to leave. The younger seemed reluctant to move closer and had taken to rubbing self-soothing circles on the back of his neck without realising.
"Chan told me some stupid rumours he's heard. But I don't believe it, don't believe him. Want to hear it from you." Jisung spoke quietly, but in the silence of the room, it felt like a scream.
"Whatever he told you is probably true."
A shake of his head from Jisung. Sad, wide eyes, trying to meet Minho's gaze. Minho kept his eyes fixed on himself in the mirror. He couldn't look at Jisung.
"I don't believe that."
"You mean you don't want to believe that?" Minho retorted.
"Why are you being like this?" Jisung couldn't stop himself from asking. There was something new in his tone, something scared, almost pathetic.
"Like what?" Minho laughed, cold. "Like me? Scared I'll do something that changes the perception you have of me, hmm? Think you know me, Jisung?"
Jisung shook his head again. His face creased into a frown. It was getting harder to keep track of the sentences in his head. Even with Minho being like this, Jisung couldn't bring the two stories together in his head. This Minho in front of him, that wasn't his Minho, and the Minho from Chan's story wasn't either.
"Tell me what happened." Jisung tried to keep his voice steady.
"Tell me what you think you know," shot back Minho.
With a sigh, Jisung looked back at the door that he had closed behind him when he walked in. Moved as though he was going to leave, but then slumped himself down onto the floor beside it. When he spoke, he watched Minho's reflection in the mirror.
"That you had a friend. That she confessed to you. That she... You didn't accept it. So she- That it was your fault." Jisung couldn't bring himself to string more than a few words together.
He had wanted to approach this differently, wanted to be delicate, reliable, show Minho that he knew it wasn't true and that he was on Minho's side. But something about Minho's reaction had shaken Jisung's confidence.
His spirits lifted slightly when he watched Minho turn away from the mirror, walk over to Jisung, pause in front of him. Fell again when Minho stood there without even looking at him.
"It was my fault."
It wasn't said nastily, nor angrily, nor cruelly. Just stated. No emotion, no explanation. And the reason Minho hadn't looked at Jisung - he wasn't moving to stand by the younger, but by the door. Jisung was still processing Minho's sentence when the older opened the door, closed it behind him.
Neither were really sure if Minho expected Jisung to follow him, like he had done those few times before. Persistence defeated by disbelief left Jisung still sitting in that same spot with his knees curled up into his chest and his eyes staring, stunned, at the spot on the floor in front of him.
Minutes passed. Then hours. It was a weekend, so no one came to the school studio. The light that Minho had on in the room worked hard against the falling sun, and so when Jisung finally did manage to collect himself and stagger out of the building, he was surprised by how dark it was outside.
He left the door to the building unlocked. He didn't care - he just walked. Couldn't bring himself to run. Just wandered, aimless, not even able to think.
Not even to think about the choices he was making when he stopped at a bar, or the regret he would feel later when he ordered a line of shots and a pint of cheap beer.
Didn't think about Minho, or his housemates, or Minho, or school, or Minho, or music, or Minho, or... Well, maybe he did think about Minho. Maybe that's all he thought about. He just kept drinking, and thinking, and every now and then he would bury his face into his sleeve and cry a little bit.
When his head was suitably fuzzy, he picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
"Why'd you lie to me?" Jisung's words were slurred but still direct.
"Huh?" The answer was tinny, quiet against the noise of the bar. "Jisung?"
"Told me... Not believe Chan... Didn't, you said not to." The words were punctuated with hiccups.
"Hey, can I get five more Cherry Blue shots please?" Jisung called out to the man working the bar.
"Jisung, what's going on?" Even drunk, Jisung could hear the concern in Felix's voice.
He took another long slurp from his drink before he answered.
"Minho told me... Told me, was his fault. Said she did it cos of him. Don't wanna believe it, but Minho told me. What Chan said..."
"Jisung, what did Chan tell you?" Felix demanded.
"Minho's mean... Made her do it, yelled at her. Nasty, mean things. Never mean to me, though. But he left. He's gone, Felix, he's not coming back."
A low groan from Felix, a muttered swear word.
"Jisung, Minho thinks it's his fault. He didn't do any of that stuff. Jesus, rumours are the fucking worst, he didn't do anything. His best friend confessed, he let her down gently, she couldn't handle the rejection. And he's hated himself ever since for it."
Jisung's pause made Felix continue.
"Jisung, it's not his fault."
Before Felix could explain further, Jisung had already ended the call. Finished off two more shots and shoved his head back down onto the table with a groan. He felt so conflicted. If it wasn't Minho's fault, if it was all just stupid school rumours, then why wouldn't Minho just tell Jisung that?
And Felix didn't know Minho back then. As far as Jisung could tell, no one did. Maybe Minho had fed his new friends a lie to try and avoid the guilt- no, this thought was dispelled from Jisung's head as soon as it entered. That wasn't something Minho would do. Was it?
Jisung could've sat there for hours, rehashing the same issue and reaching a different conclusion every time. But then a voice made him lift his head.
"Aren't you too handsome to look this sad?"
A man was leering at him, older, dark cropped hair and a stocky build. Jisung just rolled his eyes and slumped his head back onto the table. He didn't even react when the man sat beside him.
"A few more for me and my new friend?" the man had called out to the bartender.
Jisung ignored the man, sank the new drinks that arrived with him. Shouldn't have. All felt weird. Too hot, too cold, too loud, not loud enough. Skin hurts. Why feel fuzzy? Huh...
Man's hand on my waist. Outside. Cigarette, please? Mm, better. Why man lighting it? Can do it self. Who is? Where... No, cigarette back, please. Not sharing. Head hurts, skin hurts, legs hurt. Arms neck back chest stomach. Hurt. What drink?
Ugh, get off. Not Minho, why touching? Lips not soft enough, too thin. Ack, why he biting me? Not nice. Push him off, Sungie, get off. Run? Can't. Legs too heavy. Sit down, yeah, feels better. Man shouting now, too loud, cover ears. Feels better.
"Can have 'nother cig?" Jisung slurred.
His eyes were rolling back, so he couldn't see the man sneering.
"You princesses," the man hissed. "All the same, such a fucking tease. Look like that but then I have to put something in your drink to make you come with me? Jesus."
Jisung was too out of it to register what the man was saying, just lifted a hand and smiled sweetly, waiting for a cigarette to be slotted in between shaking fingers. Pouted, when his fingers stayed empty.
"What will you give me if I give you another cigarette?" the man attempted.
But his voice was too harsh, too low. Jisung frowned. "Don' need give anything. Cigarette now?"
The man swore loudly, clearly not expecting to pick up a brat who would be this resistant to the cocktail of pills he had dissolved into the drink he'd bought for Jisung. Temptation wouldn't work, so brute force would have to.
"Get offfff," Jisung was whining, not necessarily struggling to stay conscious but struggling to connect his brain to his mouth, or any other part of his body.
"Not my friend. Not my Minho. Not allowed."
His words were pointless. The man had drowned them out, gripped Jisung's wrist violently with a large fist, dragged the boy up and over so he dangled precariously over the man's shoulders. A few people looked in alarm at the sight as they walked past on the street, but bystander syndrome worked as it always had. The man was able to manhandle Jisung down the street, was about to walk into a maze made up of dark alleys.
And then the cold stone floor was cold against Jisung's whole body. It felt nice, nicer than the man had, especially as his skin had started to sear and burn feverishly. The cold was nice. He didn't mind staying there.
"What do you think you're doing?" the voice was sour, but sweet to Jisung's ears.
"Minho," he breathed. "Minho came back. Came back for me."
There was one loud noise; a bang that made Jisung quiver and flinch. He couldn't see, had tucked his head quickly into himself and curled up as small as he could. This meant he missed the man going flailing backwards into the wall, his head hitting the wall with a crack.
Jisung definitely didn't miss the new arms scooping him up, slim but firm, familiar. Didn't miss the stream of cooed words in his ears. Didn't miss the way his body fit perfectly against this new chest, even as the person holding him bundled them both up into a taxi.
Minho had tried to sit Jisung in his own seat, but Jisung had started to babble anxiously, and Minho didn't want to worry the driver more than they probably had. So he let Jisung stay there, pooled up in his lap. Even without thinking, one of Minho's hands lifted to take the younger's, thumbs drawing slow circles on skin in an attempt to calm him down.
"Knew you'd come back," Jisung hummed under his breath. "Don't believe it, any of it. Know you. Please let me keep knowing you?"
Minho let himself smile at Jisung. Small, sweet.
The smile didn't quite meet his eyes. It still didn't meet his eyes when he thanked the driver, asked him to wait, got out at his own house but banged on the door. Still stayed frozen on his mouth when Hyunjin opened the door, and Minho handed a now sleeping Jisung to him wordlessly.
The smile had faded from his face completely as Minho turned back, and got into the waiting cab alone.
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:( my baby jisung !!!!!! i promise there is a reason behind minho knowing where jisung was hahaha he is not just a mind-reading white knight!!!