45: Laconic.

The trip to the store was a little bit disastrous.

Minho would shoot glares at the curious passersby –who probably thought he was hot– and the ground, so as to not see any scandalously bare knees or shoulders.

He hadn’t flinched at the cars or the noise, but he had looked uncomfortable enough for it to be obvious, and that didn’t happen often.

At the store, he kept frowning at the small selection of vegetables and then at all the packaged stuff with weird names. Jisung wanted to be merciful with him and mostly bought stuff that was familiar, like rice and kimchi, eggs and mushrooms and beef.

And maybe some candy, but that was for science purposes. The science of making Minho like something about the modern world, mainly. He knew the guy had a sweet tooth.

“Why do they cut it?” Minho had asked on their way back, stiff as a board while trying to keep his distance from other people walking past them.

“Cut what?” Jisung had responded, kind of overwhelmed himself as well.

He hadn’t remembered just how much busier a place this really was. Everyone was somehow both rushing and loud. The world was more chaotic than him.

“The hair.”

“Oh? It’s just a style here, I guess? Long hair was a women’s thing for a long while, although now I don’t think it matters a lot, since there are celebrities who set it as a trend.” 

“I see.”

“Is it bad? I had short hair as a kid. I could show you pictures!”

Whatever mood Minho had been spiralling himself seemed to evaporate by the mention of Jisung's pictures. The thought of getting to see the baby pictures of his lover seemed to please him a surprising amount.

So when they’d gotten back they made some basic congee and ate it, and then Jisung started opening boxes at random to find the one singular folder of pictures from his childhood.

“Oh, no, those are some of my study books,” Jisung said, glancing at the box Minho had opened. “Into the trash, I tell you. Nah wait! I could probably sell them, actually, give ‘em here.”

Minho did, and Jisung placed them on a pile he would later sort out. He doesn't remember how much stupid shit he owned. Way too many black hoodies, for one, and also all kinds of random Amazon packages that he saved later for what?

There were lots of loose pieces of machinery in the box with his school stuff. A terrible reminder of the contrast between his career of choice and actual interests.

“What is this?”

“Which-- oh! Oh, shit, Minho, that’s my phone!”

“The device you use for contacting people across distance?”

“Yes! But I have to recharge again.” Adding that to the mental to-do list, Jisung continued searching. It would be so handy to just let the internet answer every single one of Minho’s questions. He wouldn’t have to pull anything out of his ass…

“Don’t open that box!” he yelped, smacking Minho’s hand away from what was going to be a long conversation they didn’t need to have right now.

Minho looked at him suspiciously. “What does it contain?”

“I– uh, it– um, it– secrets?”

He never knew he would meet someone who could look so unimpressed without moving a single muscle on his face before meeting Minho. But before the situation could snowball into a disaster, the doorbell started ringing.

Crazily. Like, with a worryingly familiar level. Jisung’s eyes widened, his heart suddenly in his throat. 

No way.

He sprung up and rushed to the door, Minho close behind him.

He knew who it was even before opening it. Of course he knew – he had known this guy for the entirety of his life. And he couldn’t believe he was on the other side, because Felix had not talked to him for almost two years, now.

Jisung hadn’t seen his little brother in two years.

Yet there he stood, behind the door, looking furious with his hand raised up for what seemed to be less an intention to knock and more an attempt to physically assault the door.

“You!” Felix snapped at his wide-eyed face.

And then he just as promptly punched Jisung in the face with his fist, straight to the cheekbone.

Which –while probably deserved– was an extremely bad move in front of Minho, who took this act of aggression as permission to slam Felix into the wall and restrain him with what seemed like way too much strength to use on a non-cultivator, even without a golden core.

Not that Jisung could really focus on that, as the pain on his cheek was kind of an achy, pulsating thing, and in the bottom of his stomach, there were several mixed feelings trying to make him throw up or burst into laughter.

“Ah, fuck, Minho, stop!” he said, grimacing while holding the side of his face that was definitely going to swell.

“What the fuck?” Felix barked, face half-smashed against the wallpaper. “Who the fuck are you? Jisung!”

“Do not touch him.” Minho sounded absolutely wrathful, and if Jisung could’ve focused he might have found the anger in that voice maybe just a little bit hot.

So it took him a while to get Minho to let go of Felix, who, after being let go, immediately almost ruined it again by getting very close to Jisung to shout at him again.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his little brother yelled, face red and so very angry. “Who do you think you are? You just went missing without telling anyone, disappearing without a trace and messages? And then just– show up like nothing is wrong!”

“Felix,” Jisung tried, but he knew he would not get a word in a while.

“Do you know what that felt like? Y-you stupid fucker, you disappearing a-ffter what we went through? And dared to pull that stunt?!”

“Step back,” Minho ordered coldly, and Felix’s reddened eyes flashed to him for a second before turning back to Jisung, ten times angrier.

“What have you been doing for a year? Was it fun, making Hyunjin and I spread missing person posters around the fucking town while you were jumping on some pretty boy’s cock and laughing at us?”

This was provocation enough for Minho to stiffen into a complete statue, but Jisung pulled him back by the bicep. Minho didn’t know Felix. Couldn’t see the absolute misery in his eyes, behind the thousands of layers of anger.

He hurt Felix again, he realised. He didn't know Felix still cared.

“Minho, will you wait in the other room for me?” he asked, and the absolute disbelief on Minho’s face was palpable.

“No.”

“Please?”

“He is violent.”

Felix’s hands were still balled in fists, his whole posture only one insult away from another attack, but whatever roughhousing was coming probably was warranted. Jisung shook his head, looking at Minho pleadingly.

In the end, the man gave in. With the coldest, sharpest glare towards Felix, he pulled away and disappeared into Jisung’s room, closing the door behind him without making any noises.

They were left alone in the hallway, silence hanging in the air like a noose.

“I’m sorry… I'm so sorry, Felix.” Jisung said then. His eyes felt so red again, so ready to spill over.

“I thought you were dead,” Felix did not shout this time. His voice was seeping poison. “I thought you were dead, and that you’d done it to yourself, and that it was my fault.”  Jisung took in a shuddering breath, not managing to meet his brother’s gaze any longer.

“I would never, Felix— I — You–”

“I know! I know what I said back then hurt you, but I believed that you knew me a lot more than anyone in the world did. But I never thought —you didn’t have to– Why the fuck would you do this to me? You stupid asshole, and now you just bounce back into our lives like nothing happened, don’t even make an attempt to contact me, I had to hear from Hyunjin–”

“I didn’t know you cared.” Jisung felt the wetness over his face, matching Felix.

They were bad at this. So bad at this. Jeongin had always acted as the mediator in situations where they went too far, where their own words didn’t carry enough in them to assure or to clear anything up.

Now it was just the two of them, and Jisung could feel he wasn’t doing a good enough job.

“Didn’t know that I cared,” Felix repeated, words sounding empty. “ Right, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

Jisung couldn’t look at him.

“Hyunjin told me, about your fund,”

“Felix–”

“What a load of bullshit. You couldn’t tell that to me back then, that it was to save Hyunjin? Jisung, you are so fucking – whatever. You know what? Whatever. What-fucking-ever.”

There were too many feelings in that, too many to count, and Jisung couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything else but the note of dejection in it. A thought appeared then, acid to his lungs, that perhaps Felix wasn’t the only one that had pushed away.

He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet.

Felix turned, then, almost like he couldn’t stand the oppressive atmosphere any longer. Jisung felt the same, so he didn’t stop Felix as he opened the door without another word.

He stood there on the doorway for another moment, shoulders tight, hand gripping the handle. Then, Felix left.

Jisung stood there staring at the door for a while, minutes ticking by until finally, the door behind him opened, and Minho came to him. Something that made sense in the chaos, a cool hand against the swell of his cheek.

Minho looked at him with very kind eyes. Jisung let out a shuddering breath, and hugged him close to him, sighing when he felt the latter pulling him closer.

“Let's stay like this.”