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⇒ Airplane Cinema
10:00pm

That Monday night was chilly, raining persistently, and the inside of Minho's car wasn't doing the cleanest job at insulating the slim width of his frame. The breeze, with its incompetent warmth from the air vent, barely managed to dry the streaks of tears along his cheeks. And his head rested against the rolled-up window, eyes unable to let a further volume of the salty liquid down, without the digestive quench of some water.

Minho needed wifi connection, to be able to send out a chain of emails to all clients for the next day- for the rest of the week, even. But he wasn't willing to return to the house that was supposed to be his. Not when Jisung was still there. And definitely not with the assumption that the aimed witness of the man's described nudes was already laying in their bed.

Perhaps making love to Jisung, or promising all of the things that Minho's down-to-earth characteristics would never permit him the thought of.

Was that the problem? All of the sacrifices prioritized for Jisung weren't enough? Or were it his skills in bed? Too amateur for the younger man?

Overwhelmed with the unspoken yet influential self-degradation, matched with the night's misfortune, Minho's eyes pushed aside the excuse of dehydration to send more tears to raise the temperature, along his cheeks. His throat ached from the prolonged sobs, but his heart ached even more, at the recurring thoughts of the realization that he and Han Jisung were over.

The Han Jisung that he had met and fell for in secondary school. The Han Jisung that Minho had transferred from his dream university, to be closer to. The Han Jisung that he had foolishly invested so much in- so much with. The one that Minho had painted an entire future with; had already thought up about two names for their future adoptees, joint with syllables of the parents.

Minho needed someone.

The cloud's aesthetic chorus against the windowpane only acted as a mocking addition to Minho's depression. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to hear the automated lines, whether genuine or otherwise, that everything was going to be okay, sooner or later.

So Minho pulled up his contact list, scrolling through and mentally canceling options as they passed beneath the tip of his index finger.

And it was then that Minho truly realized that he had practically no one. No one that he could trust with such a vulnerable image of himself.

The thought of notifying Yang Jeongin sprung downstairs, but the two hadn't conversed in a while, and Minho wasn't yet comfortable to share with a mutual of him and his ex-fiancé.

And besides, telling Jeongin would follow with an intermediate conversation with Seo Changbin, and Minho didn't fancy the idea of another knowing.

So he continued scrolling, and Minho's tongue met the inside of his cheek in reflection when his eyes settled on the seemingly only other potential confidee.

Kim Seungmin.

A brief hello and day's blessing was the bulk of what had been exchanged between them since the contact exchange, but Seungmin was a good person, right? And Minho was well aware of the breakup between him and Hyunjin so, maybe, just maybe, Seumgnin had the mildest idea of what he was going through.

Canceling the objection of his pride, Minho sighed, typing in a text of greeting to the younger male. And he smiled a bit, unintentionally yet grateful for that spark of joy, even though it was nothing compared to the lingering agony, when three bubbles appeared almost instantly.

"I really need to just talk to someone," he texted when Seungmin replied with a "goodnight" accompanied by a subtly smiling emoji.

And then, as if in Seungmin's impulse to call his friends to aid in the ease of their burden, Minho's phone started ringing. Skeptical, he hesitated to answer, near convinced that Seungmin had simply made a mistake in tapping the facetime button. But it kept up, obliging Minho to hurry and dry his tears some, clear his throat, and sketch an obviously strained smile on his face.

"H-hello," Minho answered, voice throaty; he hoped that his mobile data wouldn't run out on that call, "how- how are you?"

"I'm okay," Seungmin said, Minho taking innocent advantage of the view of his torso as he drank some water. A white, clearly oversized shirt hugged his upper body, and it took notable strength from Minho's morals to ignore his logical supposition that it was a materialistic piece of Hyunjin that Seungmin was holding on to. "I knew the therapist would need a therapist one day," Seungmin chuckled, "What's going on with you?"

Laughing too, half labored half genuine, Minho replied first with the momentary arch of his brow, sighing before he could talk, honest. "Just- a lot at home," his shoulders dropped, voice cracked, and Seungmin frowned at the other end of the line, "I- I walked out on Jisung..."

"Oh," Seungmin hummed, laying down and placing the phone on his pillow to be more comfortable, "What happened...?"

"Please," Minho bit his lip, "please don't tell anybody about this. I just- I really, really need to get it off my chest, because it's all too much tonight..."

"You can trust me," Seungmin smiled, warm and reassuring, wholeheartedly empathizing with the man, "I promise, you can trust me."

"Well... I don't know if Felix told you a few months ago... but Ji- Han- Han cheated on me, with one of the patients..."

"Mhm..."

"And it was going on for about a month before I found out. Yet my dumb ass still took him back," he sighed, shaking his head when Seungmin mumbled something along the lines of, "You're not dumb."

"Well, I had a feeling that he didn't stop... and it was confirmed tonight," Minho let another tear fall, "And it just hurts so much, you know? I gave my all... to Jisung. My heart, my energy, my money, my emotions-- every damn thing that I had to offer, Seungmin. But then he does this? So heartlessly?"

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Lee," Seungmin sat up, thinking, "where are you right now?"

Sounding a pained chuckle, Minho looked around; he hadn't scanned the expanse of his surroundings since parking. "Parked near a theatre, I think," he looked for the sign of the building.

But then Minho's lips quivered. His eyes welled up to an extent that the muscles didn't think possible for production, and his head dropped, one hand finding the key to start up the engine to drive to anywhere but there.

Anywhere but Airplane Cinema.

Of course, fate had to pedal Minho into the parking lot of the very location of his and Jisung's first date.

Seungmin too teared up at Minho's grown sobs, shifting from his bed to pull a decent pair of pants on, and a thick sweater over his head.

He couldn't possibly leave Minho alone. Not like that.

Not that night.

"Mi- Dr. Lee, don't go too far, okay? Stop somewhere, tell me where exactly you are, and I'll come to meet you."

Unwilling to object despite the rational cautioning being injected into his conscious mind, Minho hummed a raspy, "Mhm," hurt; in soo much damn pain emotionally, that it began physical manifestation in his chest. Stopping at the side of a close-by park, he directed with the simplified coordinates.

And Minho felt oh so cared for when a familiar car pulled up behind him about twenty minutes later.

What an amazing human being, Seungmin was.

What a loving, appreciative, and valuable friend, Seungmin proved to be.

-

⇒ 0325 Street, District 9, Seoul, South Korea
10:20pm

Maybe Jisung shouldn't have, on a night where his now ex-lover had just stormed out, heartbroken, and at a loss for words.

Maybe he should have been the one to visit Jaebeom, rather than the other way around. And he shouldn't have fallen subject to his near confused hormones to cuddle, in his and Minho's once shared bed, with the older man.

"It's gonna be alright, cherry," Jaebeom promised, Jisung loving how the elder's black hair tickled his forehead, drying some of the tears on his cheeks with the length, "I love you, and I'm going to take care of you... I'll give you all the things that he didn't, yeah?"

"But he gave me everything," Jisung whimpered, thankful that it sounded like more of a sob to Jae's ears; confirmed when he tightened both arms around Jisung's back above his abdomen, shivering at the warm breaths meeting his neck. "This is an open door for us, hm? Don't beat yourself up too much... I love you, I really do..."

"Mhm..."

"I promise to make it all worth it... I promise to make him leaving all worth it," he kissed Jisung's temple, taking the latter's face from the crook of his neck to kiss his lips, "I love you, my cherry."

He admired how Han Jisung's round, rosy cheeks often resembled the fullness of a ripe cherry.

"Do you want me to make you something to eat? Or prepare some fruit? You're crying a lot, I don't want you malnourished..."

"Hm," Jisung drowned a chuckle, "yes, please."

"Absolutely anything for you..."

So Jae stood from the bed, kissing Jisung's cheeks a couple of times before sliding on his slippers to stroll out of the bedroom, Jisung appreciating him from behind. Admiring the jet black shade of his hair, thickly cascading down to the very top of his back; that angle itself so built and toned, flaunting the muscles through the tightness of his grey T-shirt.

Even Jaebeom's backside was attractive; clenching and unclenching in such a manly way with every step.

Or maybe Jisung was just too down bad...

Thrashing along the sheets, suddenly not as worried about the situation with Minho like earlier, Jisung closed his eyes, lower lip trapped in between his teeth and head digging into the pillows as he reminisced on the way that Jaebeom would touch him. How Jae would speak to him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, almost persuading him into the permanent mindset that Han Jisung was the most valuable being on planet earth.

Jisung basked in the sensations as the elder's fingertips seemingly ghosted his almost bare w(j)aist, lips trailing down his neck, moist, all the way over to his mouth, and the manhood that he had enjoyed the most, out of all his partners, taking careful advantage of his insides.

Jisung really did love Jaebeom-

Ding.

Jisung divided some of his attention to the nightstand, seeing his partner's phone light up. Thinking nothing of it, he returned his face to the fluffy pillow, still blushing. But then the phone went off again, again, then again. And with the conclusion that Jaebeom was far too busy in the kitchen to notice the audible vibrations from his device, a curious Jisung scooted to the end of the bed to reach the nightstand, holding the phone up with one hand.

He squinted at the bright screen, but at a thorough, repetitive review of the context and contact name, his pupils didn't care to show caution at the bright reflection anymore. Jisung's eyes widened a great deal. His lips parted, a gasp frightened his throat, and the ghost-like traces that he was enjoying just a few seconds before were quick to morph themselves into a haunting hullabaloo of goosebumps along his skin.

His breath hitched when Jaebeom's footsteps could be heard near the open door.

Jisung looked up in the said direction when the unwelcome presence drew close enough, glaring at a supposedly perplexed Jaebeom at the doorway.

"Is everything alright?" Jaebeom asked, thinking that Jisung had his own phone in his hand, and was visibly disappointed by a message forwarded to himself, rather than another, "I- I have your fruits," he rested the tray of sliced apples, two of watermelon, and a few grapes on the bed, "Why are you glaring at me...?"

Distressed, Jisung looked at the active screen once more, earning Jaebeom's utmost attention when his unique text tone rang again...

"You- you're married?

"W-what?" Jaebeom asked, breathless, all of a sudden; the newly sprung nervousness alone confirmed Jising's justifiable suspicion. "What are you talking about, Cherry?" He moved forward quickly, startling Jisung with the harsh snatch of his phone from the smaller hand and its charger.

"Are you married, Jaebeom? And have you been married all along? Married? Making all of these fucking promises to me and you're married? Telling me you love me-"

"I do love you, Jisung," Jaebeom bit his lip, frantic, "I do love you, and I always will... these texts aren't what they look like," he sighed, "You have to believe me-"

"I don't have to believe shit," Jisung scoffed, standing from the bed to get a proper pair of pants on. For the second time that night, he felt far too exposed. "When- did you ever plan on telling me this? I had to see your wife blowing up your phone, asking when you're gonna visit her and the kids, and why you've not been calling? What the fuck even are you, Lim Jaebeom?"

"Jisung-"

"Where is she? Or where are they, rather?"

"Thai- Thailand," Jae looked down, not at all sure of how to get himself out of that situation, "But- I- I planned on getting a divorce, Ji. I- I love you-"

Smack.

Jaebeom winced, left palm finding and rubbing its respective cheek, attempting for the quickest bit of settlement from the harsh impact against it. "Why the fuck did you slap me?" He bellowed, voice raised such a great deal that perhaps the street's passerby's ears could register, causing Jisung to shiver and squirm when an equal sound to the last duplicated the tension in that bedroom.

Jisung cried, and the limited height of his body shifted sideways with both hands holding on to his right cheek. His chest, face, everything hurt. And Jisung felt scared...

Minho had never, in all their years together, made Jisung feel so scared; always made him feel safe... loved.

"Don't you ever fucking think to do that again, Han Jisung," Jaebeom spat, looking Jisung up and down as if disgusted with him...

The only time that Minho had looked at Han Jisung in such a manner was that same night; deserved.

But that kind of treatment from the man whom he cherished and loved so dearly... That was not deserved.

"Jae," Jisung whimpered, right cheek redder than any accomplishable blush in his lifetime, "why are you doing this? Why did you plan to hurt me like this? You said- you- you promised so many things... you promised us. I gave up my engagement and marriage for you-"

"Stop with the bullshit, Han Jisung," Jaebeom scoffed, stomping closer to the side of the bed for the backpack that he had arrived with, "you don't love Minho, and you know it. You also know that he loved you so much. But you wanted me, and I wanted you too... But you just can't mind your damn business. And you have the fucking audacity to put your hand on me? Man, fuck you."

"Jae-"

"Save it, Jisung," Jaebeom headed for the front door, "you want me to leave you and go meet my family? Then I'll do just that."

And then a slam.

And then Jisungs's back slid down the front door, face buried into his arms, folded above his knees. Sobs rolled up his stomach out of his throat as a heavy cry, and through his eyes as hot tears.

Jisung no longer had anybody.

Nobody who loved him, anymore.

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Questions [optional]
1. Thoughts on Minho's decision to contact Seungmin? And Seungmin's Decision to come to check up on him?

2. Emotional outbursts for Jaebeom?

3. Do you feel bad for Jisung in the slightest? Why or why not?

4. Thoughts on the slap exchange? Who's side are you on, or none, and why?