JULY 7

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   The beach house had gone quiet after the rain stopped, with most of the tuckered-out boys asleep in the living-room-area, and only a dim, yellow lamp and the white rays of the moon giving it light.

    Two of the boys were kept awake. One because of his raging sunburn, and the other because his mind was running, its endless footsteps pounding in his ears as the thoughts just kept circling around and around and around.

   Twenty-two-year-old college-sophomore-to-be Han Jisung had never been one to run from his feelings. He'd always been honest. He wasn't raised to hide, so he'd never really known what it was like to be relentlessly chased down like this, with no way out.

   But he'd also never felt something like this before. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

    Jisung had sleepily, subtly (with eyes half-shut) watched Minho (who was on the opposite end of the couch, two sleeping bodies down from him) try to get comfortable, seemingly attempting to drift off like the rest of his friends, but the sunburn he managed to get on his back was clearly bothering him and making him restless.

   Now, he watched Minho carefully shift Chan's knee away from his, to get up and tiptoe over Hyunjin and Felix, who slept pressed together on the carpet. Jisung didn't move his head to let his eyes follow Minho, wherever he was headed, but he could hear him drift through the kitchen, sounding almost as distant as the lapping of the waves heard through the open window, all the way down at the shore.

   He didn't hear much else until thirty seconds or so later, when there was the sound of a partly-suppressed wince and a pained exhale.

    At that, Jisung straightened up and looked over his shoulder.

    Minho stood there in the dark, trying to rub aloe onto his back. With the dim light, Jisung could only just make out the grimace taking over his face as he struggled to stretch his arm enough to get to the burn.

    He felt guilty, but what was there to do, really? Discomfort and anxiety swam around his stomach, doing laps. ...He couldn't trust himself.

    But Chan's words rang in the back of his mind, giving him the final bit of persuasion he needed. With a sigh, Jisung left the couch just as carefully as Minho had, so as to not wake Changbin or Chan, and joined him in the kitchen.

    "Need help?" Jisung whispered into the dark.

   Minho turned around, pained expression replaced by one of surprise. He hesitated a moment; nearly shook his head. Maybe it'd always be Minho's first impulse to refuse help of any kind. But at least, after long moment and a deep exhale, he nodded, looking down. "Yes, please."

   Jisung took the bottle from his slowly outstretching hand, teeth raking over his lips. This was his chance to talk to Minho. He just needed to get away from the six sleeping bodies out there first. "Let's go to one of the bedrooms." He gulped, suddenly feeling a fluster come over him, hurrying to explain: "So you can lay down. It'll... be easier."

   Not so long ago, Minho was the one who was stiff and awkward as they sat on a bed together. Jisung wanted to smack himself. He was overreacting. His feelings for Minho had never gotten far enough for this. It was just a little crush—perhaps just the makings of one— when he pulled away, so this amount of hyped-up nervousness wasn't warranted at all. Touching him shouldn't feel so dangerous. It was all the product of overthinking and worrying and playing out worst case scenarios where he lost control and ruined everything in his head.

  Jisung was busy thinking about that as he squeezed the contents of the bottle out into his palm, so he didn't have to pay attention to Minho's shirt coming over his head. It'd have been ridiculous to get flustered over that, too, especially since Minho had it off while he was swimming earlier, and Jisung didn't bat an eye. It was all overthinking.

   Minho's skin was burning hot as he ran his fingertips over it, cool aloe gel soaking in to soothe the burn. In the weeks that he'd spent away from Minho, Jisung found, nothing had changed. Even with his raging sunburn, Minho leaned into Jisung's hand. He wanted Jisung there, and Jisung wanted him back. It was the same... except that it wasn't.

   Fluttering heart beats and cheeks going pink in the dark were risks too much for their turbulent friendship to take. Jisung couldn't do it to him. He needed more time away, because nothing had changed— but he couldn't leave Minho alone, either.

   So he had to tell him— tell him something at least. Tell him he still cared, still wanted to be with him, still wanted to hear his voice.

   "Sung." Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep it cool as he felt the rumble of Minho's voice saying his name through the palms rubbing his back.

    "Y-yeah?"

    "...Where do you work?" Minho asked, slowly, quietly. It was such a normal question to ask— such an odd question to be asked with a tone of betrayal. With a quivering voice. What it really meant was: 'Why have you suddenly stopped talking to me; why do I not know these details about your life anymore?'

    "Um... Just at a greenhouse." Jisung was tempted to tack on an 'Oh, I didn't tell you?'. But it didn't feel right to do so when he knew he purposefully didn't tell Minho. He purposefully hadn't told Minho much of anything for the past month. And shit, he hated it. Thinking about it now, he could've told Minho that— no, he should have. He should have told him where he was going, but at the time all he could think of was the fact that he needed to get away as fast as possible.

   "And that's where you've been for... weeks?"  That meant I miss you. Now that he was back to full health he wasn't bold enough to say it.

    There it was again, running through his mind. I love you. And as much as I want you to know, I don't want to tell you.

   "Mhm."

    "Are you going to go back to work as soon as we get home?"

   "Unfortunately, yes," Jisung murmured, biting his lips. Felt the breath in Minho's lungs slip out quickly— a disappointed sigh. He could tell him the half truth, perhaps should... but would it just sound like an excuse to Minho? Would it make things worse?

   I have to tell him why.

   I hate this.

   He pictured himself admitting it. Felt the words begin to form on his tongue; felt the way his stomach twisted, filling with panic like he'd just crested a hundred-foot hill on a roller coaster. No. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell Minho. He couldn't do this to him. But he also couldn't just leave him alone! That wasn't fucking working; Minho would just go right back to hating himself and pushing everyone away, which would break both their hearts (and perhaps Chan's as well).

   Jisung weighed the options all over again in a split second decision: tell him or don't. Hurt him one way or another. Which way was kinder?

   There had to be another way— some other solution that would allow Jisung a little while longer away, while also making sure Minho was okay.

    ...There was. If  he would agree to it.

    "Minho," Jisung started, tentative, having worked in the last of the gel, letting his hand slip away, retreating quickly.

   Minho hummed softly, turning himself over onto his side. He reached for Jisung's wrist and guided his hand back to himself, letting it rest on his arm, tapping twice.

   Jisung gave a slight smile in a sad sort of way and gently ran his nervous, shaky hand down Minho's arm.

   "I was just thinking... maybe you should try therapy."

   Minho's body tensed under his hand, a nonverbal no, no, no. "What?" In the dimly-lit room Jisung only saw his eyebrows furrow.

   "I... It's just that— well, you know... I have to work a lot and since I'm not around— Chan hyung and I are kind of... worried about you lately, so I thought it might—"

   Minho threw himself up into a sitting position. "No."

    "Minho..."

   Neither of them knew what to say.

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so quickly, so terribly quickly, that comfortable silence between us that i cherished so much vanished. to be replaced by one so awkward it hurt my ears.

   Minho had tugged his shirt back on and all but stormed out of the room less than a minute after, breaths heavy and angry and hurt and, fuck— he didn't even know. Heart all woven up in knots.

   He didn't know where he was going, but his feet took him to the door, and so he fled into the cool night air, rapid footsteps thundering down the long flight of porch stairs to bring him to the sand and let him run for the shore.

i'm broken, but you don't want to fix me. you don't want to have to watch me suffer, but you don't want to be the one to pull me out from the muck anymore.

this is you casting me to the side. officially.

it's embarrassing that i called you my best friend once. no wonder you didn't say it back.

   Minho dropped to his knees at the line where the water met the land, filling his lungs to the brim, trying to fight off the lump in his throat. Night breezes caressed and cooled his searing skin. Pulled by the tide, the sand drifted out from under him, slipping away like the delusions Minho had stupidly come to believe in. Number one being: that he could truly be loved.

i speak now. i can touch other people and even let them touch me without too big of an issue. i can be honest with myself most of the time. i came so far... or so i thought. ...you still think i need therapy.

well...

i guess he's right. but even so, i don't think it can fix me. therapy is where traumatized people go— that is, more or less innocent people who've been hurt by others. but deep inside, with or without my family's influence, i know i've always been a monster; i'm the one who hurt me. run and hide, jisung. just run and hide. you don't need to feel sorry for me from afar. i won't take your pity.

   Minho waded out until the water reached his chest, because a peace came over him as his body was covered. The waves held him; their weight soothed the emptiness.

 i can't be that desperate kid again. never. i won't stay here and wait for you to please, please return the love i have for you.

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is it too drawn out? cuz yeah, slow burn/build up is good and all but im not sure i got the pacing right

not sure if this is feeling repetitive to y'all atp... but we are finally! getting somewhere!