There is slight mentions of abuse and neglect in this chapter, with references in regards to mental health (mainly depression) in this chapter. Please do not read any further if these topics are sensitive to you.

✧━━ .·:*¨¨* 𓆩♡𓆪 *¨¨*:·. ━━ ✧

❥ 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 •°. *࿐

"Really? You missed me?" Jisung asks, looking up at Minho with a glimmer in his eyes. Minho scoffs lightly, nodding his head.

"Yeah, of course I did."

"That's very cute of you," Jisung admits, teeth sinking into his lower lip. "Are you ready to walk to class?"

"I'm ready," Minho admits, watching as Jisung turns to walk across the street, but not before Minho taps his arm, dragging his attention back towards him. "You're forgetting something."

"Am I?" Jisung asks, tilting his head. "What did I forget?"

"This," Minho states, holding his hand out as an offering, an open invitation of closeness that had Jisung momentarily speechless. Jisung looks down, then back up, meeting Minho's gaze with a warm smile that seemed to speak for itself.

Carefully, and almost timidly, Jisung places his hand into Minho's, allowing the elder to gently slot their hands together, keeping the hold light but utterly comforting. Jisung smiles at him, looking up with a glimmer in his eyes that seemed to tell a tale of comfort and affection, something that Minho easily melts at. He's never seen Jisung so happy about something, at least, not in this way, and the mere idea of bringing the younger so much joy with something as simple as his touch made his heart swell.

"Let's go," Minho encourages, taking a few steps forwards towards the direction of their school.

Jisung follows in step with Minho, clinging to his hand gently, their hold slightly swaying with their every step, grounding Minho to the present, reminding him of just how much the dynamics of his life were changing.

He never wanted a relationship, save for the last experience he's had with one that ended in severe heartbreak, but these feelings for Jisung sparked something new within his soul. Something was clawing its way out of Minho's heart, demanding to be felt and to be heard, wanting nothing more than to be seen for what it was. Minho wasn't completely sure what this feeling was, but he knew that Jisung felt like a light in his ambient darkness, lighting the way, guiding his every decision and move that had ventured down a new path.

He wasn't used to this carefree nature, let alone the happiness that was strung along by just being around someone like Jisung. The past year or so of his life had been filled to the brim with chaos and turmoil, driven by a hatred unlike anything else from his father, someone who was supposed to protect and love him, and now did anything but. He was riddled with scars, filled to the brim with emotional trauma faced by the hands of neglect and abuse, but somehow, Jisung saw past all of that, taking Minho for who he was, rather than who he saw. Jisung had this keen ability to see past all of the bullshit, looking into someone's heart through just their eyes, reading their emotions and taking everything in stride, not wanting to listen to stereotypes and face-value renditions of other's opinions. For someone who claimed to never really have friends before, Jisung was overwhelmingly empathetic, and Minho supposes it has something to do with the male's ability to read through as many romantic novels as he can, even though he also claimed to never want a relationship, nor have the time for one.

Yet here he was, enjoying whatever their label was, a beaming smile on his face with a hint of rosiness to his cheeks. It was a beautiful thing to see, watching as someone blossomed into a better, more fulfilled version of themselves, free and without a care in the world. Minho wanted to bring out the best in him, just as Jisung did for him.

Minho wanted to change his ways, to rebuild the bridges he had burned out of fear, to turn his back to those who sought to further ruin him instead of building him up, wanting nothing more than to free himself of the confines depression had long since trapped him within. He was a hostage to his own mind, lost in the scape of a reality where he saw no way out, entrapped within the darkness his own demons had created. His life felt like a loop of bad, dramatic things, always happening and always congruent, never ending and forever twirling around like some sort of horrific carousel, making him question if this life was even worth living through. He wanted to live through this, to truly discover what life was supposed to be like, curious as if life could offer him something new rather than the lingering distaste for his father and that of himself.

And then he met Jisung.

With his longer brunette hair, the glasses he only wore when he was reading, the organized stacks of notebooks and folders that were color-coordinated by class, along with the array of pencils and books he carried with him at all times, keeping his creative mind alive in the wake of so many studious activities. He knew that Jisung longed to be something more than a doctor or anything of a medicinal means, but rather a writer or a teacher; something that held more of a creative outlet, something that would cater to his needs rather than purge them. Jisung was so full of life and knowledge, that the mere idea of watching him fold beneath the pressure of his parents was disheartening. Minho didn't know the full story as to why Jisung's parents wanted this life for him, but what he did know was that he didn't want Jisung to succumb to the pressure of it. He wanted Jisung to persevere and to succeed, to chase after his own dreams and to be whatever he so desired. He wanted Jisung happy, here with him and in whatever future they could craft together, but only if Jisung wanted that, too.

"You seem lost in thought," Jisung mentions, squeezing Minho's hand to gently pull him away from his reverie. "What's on your mind?"

"You," Minho admits, not fully realizing the impact of his words. "Your parents, really."

"What about them?" Jisung questions, looking at Minho with a trace of hesitance.

"Well, in regards to what you've said about them and how they're forcing a career path on you that you don't want," Minho explains, shrugging subtly. "I worry that you will follow their dreams for you."

"It's complicated, honestly," Jisung admits, looking away for a moment. "They've offered me a full ride, free of expenses and an allowance. I'll get a car out of the arrangement too, but only if I go to a top-class school, and enter into something in the medical field. They want to be sure that I can live a prosperous life and to live without worry, not in a career where I'd struggle to find work."

"I can understand that, but have they ever taken the time to ask you what you want?" Minho asks, watching as Jisung sighs deeply, shaking his head.

"I honestly don't think that they care about what I want. It sucks, but what can I do? I can't argue about it, because it won't get me anywhere. We have no family here in the city, so I'm all by myself. If I wanted to go against their wishes, I'd get kicked out and cut off from everything, which hurts more than I can say, just the idea of it, anyway."

"Jisung–"

"It's okay, Minho," Jisung affirms with a slight smile. "I know we don't have long left of our classes, barely a month, really. I have time to think about it, and if it makes you feel better, I promise that I will truly think about it and think about what I actually want."

"That does make me feel a bit better," Minho says, smiling back. "I just want you to be happy. Regardless of if that's with me, with school, with your friends or with life in general, I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Jisung says, squeezing Minho's hand. "I have you, I have my friends– I'm okay, Minho. Truly."

"If you're sure," Minho smiles, turning to look ahead of him as their steps echo in the quiet space surrounding them. The breeze was warm, the sun slowly beginning its ascent the longer the morning drew on, dragging a light blue sky across the horizon with lingering, wispy clouds. Minho turns to look at Jisung again, a question hanging on the edge of his tongue. "Jisung?"

"Hm?"

"Did you want to do something this weekend? We only have classes tomorrow, and I'd. . . really like to do something with you."

Jisung smiles, nodding immediately. "Of course, I'd love that. My parents work twelves on the weekends, usually every weekend, so it should be safe for you to come over if you want to."

"I'll be there," Minho assures. "Just tell me the time, and I'll be right there."

"Okay," Jisung smiles, following Minho's pull as they turn around the final bend, spotting their campus in the nearing distance.

Minho clings to Jisung a bit tighter than before, filled with an unfamiliar bout of anxiety that he couldn't quite place. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was together with Jisung, in a way, though they hadn't clarified their relationship and what they meant to one another as of yet. All they had done was kiss. . . four times, if Minho was counting correctly. Maybe five? He didn't know. All he knew was that he was growing overly fond of his tutor, someone who was supposed to be stern with him, helping him learn and study in whatever nerdy way he knew best. But, Minho had come to adore Jisung's sassiness, along with his empathy and his openness, relishing in the fact that he had finally found someone good for him.

As they trek into school grounds, Minho keeps a hold of Jisung's hand, leading him through the crowd of students who seemed too enthralled in whatever conversation they were having nearby lockers and amongst the hall, seemingly ignorant to the blossoming relationship passing by an abundance of onlooking eyes. Minho could care less what others would think of his relationship with Jisung, but he knew all too well that Jisung, in turn, might care more than he realizes. As they breach through a small crowd and find a clearer section of the hall, Minho moves to remove his hand from Jisung's grasp, but feels as the younger instead keeps his hand connected to Minho's reassuring him that he was fine, rather choosing to stay entwined instead of apart.

As they move through the hall, Minho takes notice of Mingi and Jongho settled in their usual spot, lingering near their lockers as they talked openly, without regard for anyone else around them. Minho averts his gaze, but felt rather unable to dismiss the fact that Hyunjin was nowhere to be found.

Jisung then begins to guide Minho towards his own locker, veering off to the left rather than to the right where Minho's was, but Minho didn't mind. He didn't need anything from his locker for his first period as it was, so he chose to follow, seeing that San and Wooyoung were gathered nearby, flirting or talking, something of the sort. It was gross, whatever it was. Felix also stood nearby, engrossed into the depths of social media within his phone as Jisung approaches, unaware of his presence. Jisung leans closer, muttering boo, in some fickle attempt to scare Felix away from whatever had been so interesting on his phone. Felix looks up with a smile, putting his phone away as he begins chatting away with Jisung, clearly unbothered by Minho's presence entirely. But, as Minho turns around, he catches sight of someone familiar moving quickly down the hall, almost with purpose, dragging his attention into wondering why. It was Hyunjin, moving amongst the crowd with his head down, headphones over his ears, moving through the sea of students with an obvious task at hand. Turning back towards Jisung, Minho takes a step closer, squeezing Jisung's hand before letting go.

"Hey, Ji?" Minho starts, watching as Jisung's head turns towards him, eyes cast with a curious glint.

"What's up?"

"I have to go do something really quickly, but I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

Jisung smiles small before he nods. "Okay, see you later."

Minho, before he walks away, leans closer, pressing a kiss to Jisung's head before turning around, listening to the quiet gasp that Felix lets out, followed by Jisung's quiet plea of shut up!

Minho smiles to himself, walking through the hall in search of Hyunjin, but he knew exactly where his friend would end up. With a breath, he turns the corner, trekking down the same hall Hyunjin had disappeared down, coming across an ajar art room door, finding Hyunjin settled in the corner, staring at an easel, paint brush in hand, a darkly-painted canvas in front of him with his head tilted to the side. His headphones rested on the back of his neck, loudly playing music as he sat there, deep in thought, barely noticing Minho's further walk into the room itself. The lights were off, a painter's palette resting nearby, filled with the colors of blacks and blues, and Minho couldn't help but notice that the painting itself, at least from this distance, was a portrait of someone who was irrevocably sad, drawn in colors of deep blues and black, accented with hints of white, betraying Hyunjin's inner turmoil that Minho would have sensed from a mile away.

"Hyunjin," Minho mutters softly, careful not to startle his friend. "What are you doing here so early? Don't you have this class right before lunch?"

"I. . . have a lot on my mind," he says back quietly, keeping his attention drawn to the painting itself. Minho nods, though Hyunjin couldn't see it, setting down his bag on one of the tables nearby. Minho eyes the clock to his right, seeing that they had more than ten minutes to talk this through before the bell would ring for the beginning of their first period of the morning.

With slow steps, Minho strides over to the nearest table and chair, settling down next to Hyunjin, looking up at the painting in its full grandeur. It was remarkable, really, painted with the essence that expressed a tale of one's regret and isolation, perhaps colored with a sadness that one feels after longing for something they can no longer have. The person in the painting was hugging themselves, their knees drawn to their chest with their hair messily covering their face, hiding behind a fake blind to mask how they truly felt. Minho knew that this painting was of a sadder nature considering how Hyunjin had been as of late, and based upon Hyunin's quiet tone alone, Minho supposes that he was thinking about Felix.

"Tell me," Minho says softly, watching as Hyunjin's eyes flick down towards his, remaining there for a moment before he sighs, looking away, holding his paintbrush firmly between two fingers as he leans forwards, touching up the bottom corner of the painting with a deep shade of navy.

"I miss him," Hyunjin admits, tilting his head, looking at his painting inquisitively. "More than I know how to express in words, Minho."

"You've told me before about what happened, but not in much detail," Minho replies, keeping his tone light. "Do you want to tell me the whole truth now? Or do you want to keep dancing around the subject as to why Felix left you?"

Hyunjin pulls his paintbrush away from the canvas, wetting his lips as his other hand grips the edge of the chair he was sitting on, chewing on his lip afterwards. He clears his throat, setting his brush down in a cup of water that had rested to his left, folding his arms against his chest. Minho knew that Hyunjin didn't much like digging up past turmoil, especially in regards to Felix, but he truly never got the full picture of what happened between the pair.

He knew that Felix's friends, ones that used to be his own, didn't like Hyunjin, likely because of how outspoken and chaotic he could be, but also because he couldn't seem to slip away from the grasp Mingi had on him at the time. Well before Minho had entered the fold, he had been told that Hyunjin was like a firecracker, full of life and energy, always cheerful and loud, but on top of that, he openly loved Felix with everything he had. They'd play the guitar together, paint and draw one another all the time, and even more so, Hyunjin would write a letter for Felix every day before classes ended, dropping it into Felix's locker so he could read it the next morning. It was a caring routine, one that made Minho smile even just thinking about it, but suddenly it all changed. They had broken apart, torn in separate directions for one reason or another, left to submerge themselves into their own friend groups again, all while being seemingly lost without the other. Minho wanted to know more, and more importantly, he wanted to know why Hyunjin refused to make amends with Felix.

"It's not an easy story to tell, Minho. It's not that simple–"

"I never said it had to be," Minho retorts calmly, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not going to judge you for whatever happened. You're my friend. Felix. . . used to be my friend. Clearly something happened between the two of you, something that isn't good. I want you to be honest with me, because I want to help you through this."

"Since when have you gone all soft?" Hyunjin muses slightly, turning to glance at Minho.

"I've learned what it's like to care about someone, pretty deeply at that. I can understand, if just a fraction of it, of how hard it is to lose someone you adore that much. I'm trying to be a good friend here, Hyunjin. Promise."

"I know you don't have evil intentions, unlike Mingi," Hyunjin says softly, turning his gaze back towards his painting. "I just feel really isolated. Being without Felix has been harder than I thought, and it's almost been a year. I want him to forgive me, but I can't even forgive myself."

"Talk to me, Hyunjin," Minho insists. "Let me carry some of this burden for you. Don't deal with this alone."

"Says the most secretive of us all–"

"Hyunjin," he deadpans, looking at his friend with a glimmer of something similar to a plea. "I'm serious."

"I know you are," Hyunjin sighs, looking down at his hands. "Things were good. . . you know? We were the best thing either of us had ever known. He loved me, truly loved me, and I. . . took that for granted."

"In what way?" Minho asks, watching as Hyunjin takes another deep breath, his hands toying with one another in a nervous gesture likely meant to ground himself.

"It's a lot to explain," Hyunjin tosses out, his words an unconfident mumble. "Felix is really insecure despite how strong he seems otherwise. He has a lot of confidence issues, all of which stem from some sort of idea that he's worthless, or something. I tried my hardest to build him up, to be his anchor and to be that person for him. I wanted to prove to him that he was more than just a face, more than a body and more than just what others saw at face value. He's a beautiful person with a beautiful soul, his heart is aflame with passions for painting and music, but he could never see past his own self-doubt and judgment. He was so critical of himself, and. . . he preyed on that."

"He?" Minho asks, his eyes widening slightly. "Who's he?"

"Mingi," Hyunjin admits, keeping his voice low, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had been listening. "He didn't like that Felix was so close to me. Jongho and I were all that Mingi had back in that time, and I think the more time I spent with Felix, the more insecure Mingi got in turn, which resulted in a series of events that I wish I could turn back from."

"Mingi is really testing my patience," Minho murmurs, but Hyunjin reaches over, nudging Minho with his fist.

"There's more, you hot-head. Just wait," Hyunjin reminds, drawing Minho's attention away from his irritatingly strong will to confront Mingi about his transgressions. "When Felix and I were out, Mingi must've seen us, because that night, I had received a long message from Mingi, long after Felix had gone home. His message was cold, and. . . I didn't like the tone of it. He knew just how to control me, how to take advantage of me, and unfortunately, he knew how to prey on my weaknesses. My weakness has always been Felix, and he knows that, even to this day. That's. . . that's why I've been around less and less. I feel like I have no control of myself anymore, and his behavior, it's getting out of hand."

"Your father is the principal, Hyunjin, you could easily do something about this."

"Oh, and what? Get thrown under the bus for smoking, skipping class, failing tests and watching as he just picks and bullies other students? I'm alright," Hyunjin retorts, his voice raising slightly.

"What did the text say?" Minho inquires, trying to draw out more information, but Hyunjin hesitates. Minho watches as Hyunjin's posture shifts into something more stiff, something reserved and closed off, hiding away from something that he knew Hyunjin had been harboring for a long, long time. "Hyunjin. What did it say?"

Hyunjin is quiet for a moment before he pulls out his phone, moving through the layers of text messages that he had long since kept in the nearly-barren chain of conversation between himself and Mingi. Minho waits anxiously, anticipating something serious, and upon the sight of it, he could barely believe the words that were strung across Hyunjin's phone screen. Hyunjin passes his phone over, a dulled look of regret sunk over his expression as he turns away, staring into his painting, seeking a moment of solitude as memories glare over his phone screen.

Song Mingi

I need you to stop seeing Felix. Not only are you ruining the reputation we maintain at the school, but you're making yourself seem weak. It's disheartening to see that you're allowing yourself to fall under the spell of someone so pathetic, and not to mention, you're allowing him to submerge your thoughts into submission, falling under his spell and following his every wish. I can't have that. You're my friend, Hyunjin, and I want the best for you. I strongly implore you to seek distance from Felix, or should he face the same fate as Hongjoong?

You know better than anyone that I don't want to do that to anyone, but if it comes down to it, I will. I can't have that. Get rid of him, and make sure he knows that it's over before I show him in my own way of just how over your relationship really is.

Don't forget what you owe me, Hyunjin. I'm sure your father would love to hear about everything that you did this summer without him knowing.

"Hyunjin–" Minho cuts himself off, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. "What the fuck is this?"

"Blackmail, gaslighting, deceit–" Hyunjin sighs, reaching for his phone. "All of the above, maybe. I'm an idiot. Truly. I fucked up and I let Mingi have a say in my life just in the way you had and the way Jongho lets him."

"We can't let him do this shit anymore," Minho swears, handing the phone back over, but Hyunjin shrugs.

"I've told you, I can't do anything. I don't want him to hurt Felix, and I don't. . . I can't risk it. I don't want what happened to Hongjoong to happen to Felix, Minho. I can't."

"It won't," Minho assures. "You and I both can protect him from that."

"Minho, you don't understand–" Hyunjin drops his voice to a whisper, nearly holding his breath as the bell finally rings, signaling an end to their private conversation. "If he knows that you're getting close to Jisung, and I'm assuming that's who you've been with a majority of the week, Mingi will stop at nothing to separate the two of you."

"What are you saying?"

Hyunjin swallows tentatively, reaching for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder just as students begin to walk into the room.

"He'll threaten Jisung with the Hongjoong thing, Minho, and you and I both know that he doesn't lie."