There is mentions of domestic violence/abuse in this chapter. Please be advised.

✧━━ .·:*¨¨* 𓆩♡𓆪 *¨¨*:·. ━━ ✧

❥ 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 •°. *࿐

The night passed uneventfully. Jisung had laid awake, staring at his ceiling with a flare of curiosity. The idea that he had almost kissed Minho made his heart race and ache all in one motion, wondering why the mere idea of kissing Minho seemed like such an undeniably toxic idea. He promised himself and his parents that he'd solely focus on his studies, choosing coursework and studying over that of companionship and affection. Yet, being so close to kissing the one male that had somehow captivated him in a way that nothing and no one else had before.

He was intensely intimidating, but beyond that lay someone who was hurt beyond belief, struggling to even live in his own home. That thought alone was enough to drive Jisung to a state of unease, knowing that Minho's father had hit him without remorse despite the circumstances that came with it. Regardless, no parent should lay hands on their child regardless of the matter at hand, and seeing Minho so broken and vulnerable, it only made Jisung's heart ache even worse.

The darkness his room had supplied him with was oddly comforting, allowing a moment of peace to search into the depth of his thoughts, wondering truly what he would've done if he had kissed Minho. For a split second, Jisung worries that it wasn't what he wanted, that this was all driven by some sort of need to help Minho, and in turn wove him into feelings he could hardly understand. But, that wasn't the case. Yes, Minho intrigued him in a way that he couldn't express, but the idea that he was doing this out of selfish need was completely unfathomable. Jisung wanted to be a light in Minho's darkness, to comfort him when he fell, to hold him when the world felt too oppressive; the things Jisung wished he had had years ago.

His situation was comparatively different from Minho's, but the pain and the resentment had felt all too familiar. Somewhere within the depth of Minho's broken, somber hues does Jisung sense a fraction of himself; a part of him that used to scream out for help in the same wordless, chaotic manner.

There was something hidden within the deeply embedded roots of isolation that Minho held dear, choosing to keep to himself rather than lean on anyone. As far as Jisung knew, Mingi was the closest person Minho had, but even then, he wasn't completely sure just how close they were. Part of Jisung believed that Minho hung around Mingi and his crew for the sake of relief. He had people who understood, if just barely, and would help him deal with the reprimands of his anger and resentment. He could smoke, eat shitty food, work out obsessively, listen to loud music and abandon classes without a blink. Yet, now it seemed that doing these things had been catching up to him.

He was putting in the work to better his grades, and for one reason or another, he had stopped hanging around Jongho and Hyunjin as much. He was still attached to Mingi, but it was progress nonetheless.

As morning crept through Jisung's partially open curtains, he woke to a plethora of texts, all from different people with different topics. Felix was asking about physics homework, Wooyoung and San were up all night messaging in the group chat as if they were supposed to be messaging one another privately, considering the sheer shamelessness of some of the messages, and Jeongin messaged once telling Wooyoung and San to promptly shut the fuck up.

Then, there was Minho. It was a simple text, sent nearly a half-hour after he had abruptly left Jisung's house in the middle of the night.

Minho

I got to Mingi's just fine. I don't mean to worry you, Jisung, but I needed some air.

Thank you for being patient and trying to help. I don't know how I'll ever repay you for the kindness you showed me tonight, especially when I don't deserve it.

With a sigh, Jisung swipes away from the text message, raking a hand through his messy locks of brunette hair. He was frustrated, not at Minho, more so at himself, allowing his feelings to get in the way of trying to help Minho in a way a friend should. They couldn't be anything more than that, and not only because of Minho's hesitance, but because of everything he had promised his parents. He couldn't risk his scholarships nor his acceptance to somewhere prestigious. Love, as feeble and drifting as the emotion is, may be enticing in concept, but in reality, can become the most toxically powerful emotion one can convey.

Jisung had no time to feel love, nor did he really wish to sink into a relationship, especially with someone as complicated as Minho. Yet, the worst thing about all of this is that Jisung can't stop thinking about him. From his deeply sad eyes to the jut of his jaw, his sense of dark, grungy style and the long curled tresses of his hair; everything about him was so effortlessly addicting. His allure felt like a downpour of rain. Drenched in something familiar, soaking Jisung to his core, pooling around the edges of streets and sidewalks, only to drift into the drain, tearing at the seams to reveal the internal storm that was brewing within. Jisung wants to weather the rain, to stay at his side despite his dark aura and horrible friends, pulling him away from the pouring rain and into a sense of shelter, drying him and finally giving him the chance to simply just heal. But, the thing about the rain that Jisung loved the most was how it felt similar to home. It was a comforting sound, and sometimes also a comforting smell, but always beyond the graying clouds was the lingering joy of the blue sky, hidden beyond a harsher exterior, laying in wait to shine once again. Jisung had a feeling that Minho was screaming for help, but not because he wanted to be free of his father's grasp, but because he wanted to reclaim who he once was before the cigarettes and the accident, sinking into older habits to save himself before he too drifted into the abyss.

"Jisung!" A voice stirs Jisung away from the edge of his bed as he teeters on the balls of his feet, leaning forward slightly to reach for his bag. "Breakfast is ready!"

With a raise of his brow, he moves towards his wardrobe, taking out his uniform and dressing, grabbing his bag again as he treks out of his room to be absorbed in the scent of bacon and eggs.

"You're home?" Jisung asks in mere disbelief, watching as his mother greets him with a tired smile.

"Yeah, called off today. Needed a break from the ER," she sighs, holding a spatula in her hand. "Your father, on the other hand, is already at work. Something about a surgery and mounds of paperwork."

"Sounds riveting," Jisung scoffs, settling down at the kitchen island.

"As is the life of a doctor," she murmurs back, moving around the kitchen to grab a plate before dishing a serving of eggs and sizzling bacon. "So, I never got to speak to you last night before you went off to bed. How is everything? School okay?"

"Yeah, actually," Jisung takes the plate from his mother when she extends it towards him, smiling in thanks. "I have a group of friends that I don't think I've told you about."

"Are you sick?" She laughs lightly. "Who are you, and what have you done to my son? Since when have you gone out of your way to have let alone a friend group, but a friend in the singular term?"

"Very funny," Jisung laughs, poking into his eggs with his fork. "I met them by accident, really. They invited me to sit at their table to eat, and since then, I don't know, I've just never left the table."

"I wonder if I know their parents," she muses quietly. "You'd be surprised at the amount of people I know because I work in the busiest hospital known to this part of Korea."

"Well, there's Lee Felix, Jung Wooyoung, Choi San, and Yang Jeongin. They're all really nice," Jisung says softly, looking up to inspect his mother's reaction.

"Choi San," she hums quietly, pondering for a moment. "I think his father is a businessman of sorts. Wealthy type, hard-working."

"San has the same kind of attitude, if so. He's too obsessed with Wooyoung to worry about a career though," Jisung mumbles, taking a bite of his food as his mother laughs.

"Ah, so he's dating Wooyoung?"

"Yeah," Jisung raises a brow. "Is. . . that bad?"

"No, no, it's lovely, actually. How about Felix and Jeongin? What are they like?"

"Felix is a ball of sunshine," Jisung smiles slightly to himself, shrugging a moment later. "Jeongin is by far the youngest out of any of us, but is brutally honest and kind of emotionless. He acts like a stern father sometimes."

"You've found quite the group then, huh?" She asks with a tinge of amusement, looking at Jisung fondly.

"Yeah, uhm, but there is one other person."

"Oh, do tell," she turns, setting down the spatula she still held in her grasp. "What's his name?"

"Lee Minho," Jisung murmurs, watching as his mother's expression falls. "W-what? Do you know him?"

"I know of him. I know his father, partially. I went to school with him," with a breath, she turned away, moving towards the sink. "He was not exactly nice back in the day. I can't imagine what he's like now."

"Well, I've heard not great things." Jisung takes another bite, watching as his mother visibly tenses.

"Jisung–" she takes a breath, raising her hand to rub at her temples. "Who is this friend to you? Is he just a friend, or–?"

"I'm tutoring him, but I don't know, I like him. He's nice to me, and only me it seems. Why does that matter–"

"I don't want you around him, Jisung," she says quietly, wrapping her hands around the edge of the sink basin. "I mean it. I really encourage you to have friends and to enjoy your remaining time in school before you're sent off to college, but I cannot allow you to be present around someone that has a callous reputation."

"Minho didn't do anything to me, Mom," Jisung's brows furrow, watching his as his mother paces about the kitchen, a newly lit anxious storm brewing beyond her gaze.

"He hasn't yet, that's the problem. I've seen what his father was capable of, and I don't want that happening to you, platonically or otherwise. Please just drop it, Jisung."

"You don't even know him. You're basing what you think he's like off of his father's mistakes and past. They may be related, but they are nothing alike–!"

"I said drop it, Jisung." With a breath, she turns, her knuckles white as she grips onto a rag. "Please."

"I'm going to school," Jisung dismisses, pushing his plate away. "Thanks for breakfast."

"Jisung, please. Don't take this so personally–"

"Too late," Jisung shoulders his bag, heading towards the front door. "You know, I never question your work hours, nor Dad's absence in his apartment, but you have the nerve to question my friends that I've just barely introduced you to. Forget I said anything, I'll be a quiet son and just go about my studies. Forget it."

"Jisung–"

He didn't bother to listen to another word before he strode out of the door, heading towards campus with a tinge of disdain following his every step.

"Jisung," a voice stirs Jisung away from his stupor of thoughts, bringing his attention right back to the bustling school cafeteria. "What are you staring at?"

Bless Felix's heart. He truly was too kind, a pure soul in a sea of horrible, manipulative students, ones that Jisung has long since avoided and somehow managed to stumble into one of the nicest people he's ever met.

Currently, he isn't sure how much time has passed. He had been sitting at the cafeteria bench, staring down into his sandwich with an apparent boring gaze, unmoving and not blinking, too lost in the thoughts plaguing his head.

He, of course, wanted to express these feelings to Felix and be fully honest with why he had been acting so weird, but how does one explain that their mother has an apparent past with the most notorious, and hot-tempered, bad boy's father?

"Well," Jisung puts his sandwich down, not particularly having the stomach for food at the moment. "I'm just. . . lost in thought. My mother dropped a bomb on me this morning, and Minho– I'm confused."

"What happened with Minho?" Wooyoung interjects, scooting himself closer, abandoning his incredibly close place that was previously settled with San.

"Uhm," Jisung's brows furrow, taking a breath as he glances at Felix, who had been just as interested. "He. . . came over late last night."

"He what–?" Wooyoung nearly gasps, gripping the edge of the table. Jeongin lightly shoves him backward, staring at him with a lilt of disinterest.

"Your boyfriend likes you in his bubble, Woo, I do not." Jeongin turns away, continuing to eat his lunch, earning an eye roll from Wooyoung in return.

"Deal with it, anyway–" Wooyoung adjusts the way he was sitting just as San scoots a bit closer, trying to pay attention to the conversation as he delved into his meal as well. "What happened?"

"Do you know anything about his father, Wooyoung? Like has he always been horrible?" Jisung glances at Wooyoung, then at San before returning his gaze towards the male again, watching as Wooyoung's jaw slightly tenses.

"I know that he's a piece of shit," Wooyoung breathes out lowly, his tone laced with something similar to annoyance. "Why?"

"Apparently my mother knows his father, I don't know–" Jisung takes an uneasy breath, leaning back in his seat. "I'm just really confused, and now she doesn't want me to go near Minho."

"That's. . . weird," Felix murmurs. "Why would she care about who you're friends with?"

"My mother is a nurse and my father is a well-known doctor in neurology," Jisung admits, wetting his tips tentatively. "They care about my image so I can get into a prestigious college to pursue their dreams for me."

"You do realize how that sounds, right?" Wooyoung raises his brow, and Jisung nods, his gaze drifting to his hands.

"I have no choice," Jisung shrugs, avoiding the onlook of concerned eyes likely staring holes into him worriedly. "It's the path they've chosen, and if I want my tuition paid for, along with a car and whatever, it's just what I have to do."

"That's really unfair of them," Felix frowns. "It's your life, not theirs."

"I've long since accepted it, Lix. Don't worry. If I was truly unhappy with it, I'd say my peace. My parents know that I won't hide things from them, and well, my mother got the brunt end of that this morning." Everyone raises a brow, their eyes widening; even Jeongin paused in his quiet motion of eating his lunch to look at Jisung, just as puzzled as the others were. "Okay, all of you, stop it–"

"You gave attitude to your mother?" Felix asks, a smile slightly curled on the edge of his lips. "I would never."

"Well, we have a policy of honesty, and she pissed me off. Why would I lie?" Jisung turns to look at Wooyoung and San, chuckling nervously as all of his friends continue to gaze at him in near-disbelief.

"Okay, you're insane, first of all," Wooyoung laughs lightly. "But, you're missing the point. Why was Minho at your house last night?"

"I don't want to speak on his behalf, but something bad happened to him last night, and he didn't know where else to go. So, I told him to come to mine, and he did."

Felix takes a breath, placing a hand on Jisung's wrist. "Is there. . . something going on between you two?"

"No," Jisung's brows furrow, glancing at Felix, then to Wooyoung. "Nothing. He just needed a friend, and I just so happened to be awake."

"If there's something happening, you can tell us," Felix assures, but Jisung shakes his head.

"No, nothing is happening. I don't have time for a relationship, and he doesn't like me like that. We're just friends, barely even that, actually. There's nothing for me to tell." Jisung glances at Wooyoung, watching the male's eyes soften, and in the same gesture, they begin to sadden.

"If you say so," Wooyoung murmurs, leaning away, nestling himself into San's side, looking away to glance at his phone.

Jisung bites his tongue, keeping his remark well within the safety of his closed mouth. He knew that Wooyoung had been slightly jealous in terms of Jisung's friendship with Minho, but there was nothing Jisung could personally do to mend the bond between the pair. In all fairness, if Wooyoung wanted the friendship to be resparked, he could put in the same effort and reach out to Minho, or vice versa, but the gap between them had little to do with Jisung.

Admittedly, Jisung could bring the entire situation up to Minho, but with how shaky their friendship was currently, bringing up past pain seemed like the worst idea to grace Jisung's mind.

"Sorry," Jisung's jaw tightens absently, taking a breath. "I'm gonna head out early, go to the bathroom, or something. I need to clear my head."

"Jisung, you don't need to leave," Felix says quietly, but Jisung simply smiles at him.

"It's okay. I'm not mad, I just want a moment to collect myself before my next class."

Felix nods, his gaze following Jisung's every move as the male rises from his seat, grabbing his lunch tote and packing away his lunch. "Just. . . text me, alright?"

"I'll talk to you guys later," Jisung assures, making note to glance at Wooyoung, watching as the male actively avoided his gaze and rather chose to sink into San's embrace.

After collecting his things, Jisung strode out of the cafeteria, making his way towards the restrooms that had been down the hall and to the right, pressing his hand to the door as he pushed it open. His eyes gaze at the floor before looking up, only to grace the sight of Minho leaning against the far wall with his eyes engrossed in his phone.

"Minho–?" Jisung stops in his tracks, holding the door open, watching as the elder glances up. His gaze at first is incredibly cold, but as their eyes cross paths and meet in the middle, Jisung swears that he can see Minho's expression completely soften.

"Come for a moment of peace?" Minho asks, putting his phone away.

"Yeah, actually," Jisung smiles slightly, taking a step forward, letting the bathroom door swing shut behind him. "It's. . . a lot. Today has just been a lot."

"I know," Minho pushes himself away from the wall, approaching Jisung with tentative steps. "Look, I. . . last night–"

"Don't apologize. We were caught up in the moment, and I get it. You don't owe me an explanation," Jisung shakes his head, clasping his hands together. "I'm just glad you came to my house. The idea of you alone after that. . . I was worried."

"Even if I hadn't, I would've been okay," Minho says softly, shrugging in a noncommittal gesture. "Trust me, this isn't my first rodeo in the ring with my father."

"That's just sad to me, Minho. You shouldn't be afraid to live in your own home."

"I'm not," Minho's brows furrow. "I'm not afraid of anything. My father is a pussy, and all he does is take out his anger on me. I've learned how to fight back, and he doesn't exactly like that I can defend myself. We butt heads a lot, but I try to avoid him by just staying out late and coming home after he goes to sleep."

"That's a horrible way to live," Jisung says sadly, but Minho shrugs.

"I graduate in a few months. I'll survive."

Jisung takes a breath, chewing on his lip as he takes a few steps further into the center of the bathroom, glancing at the empty, clean sinks and slightly-dirty mirrors. Minho watches him with a slight curiosity, but Jisung feels unable to meet his gaze.

Minho's steely eyes were hard to decipher, leaving him nearly expressionless at points, but completely readable at other times. Minho, for the most part, wasn't a figure of irritation and emotionless stupor; he was just complicated. Jisung could see parts of him, yet the deeper, darker parts of Minho were kept behind lock and key, left to only reveal themselves after years of prying and mountains of trust.

"Minho," Jisung says almost under his breath. "I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about, Jisung, don't worry. I've survived my entire life living with him, I can go a few more months."

"He hits you, Minho–"

"Jisung," Minho's jaw tightens, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. "Stop. You're teetering on the edge of things that you don't understand."

"I don't understand?" Jisung snaps his gaze towards Minho, taking a hesitant step forwards. "I understand enough. You shouldn't have to live your life by the fear of being hit by your own father. That's just not fair–"

"That's life, Jisung. I can't fucking control it."

"Stop pretending that this isn't affecting you!" Jisung snaps, his tone slowly dying in his throat as the words struggle to leave completely. "I'm tired of hearing you push me away like this. I care about you Minho, and I deeply worry about your safety now that I know what waits for you at home."

"Jisung, I can't talk about this right now–" Minho rushes past Jisung, but Jisung catches his wrist, holding him in place, not willing to let go. "Jisung–?"

"Stop," Jisung shakes his head, meeting Minho's gaze tentatively. "Stop running away when people start to care."

"I don't–"

"You do, and I need you to stop. I'm scared for you, Minho. I want to be there for you and shoulder this pain with you, but you need to let me in. I can't help you and be there for you if you don't just let me see you."

Minho stares at Jisung, his eyes slowly reddening with unshed tears. They're both quiet for a moment, as if an impasse of silence had taken over the space between them. Jisung was still holding on to Minho's wrist, and Minho made no move to pull away from him.

For a brief moment in time, Jisung believes that Minho is truly thinking through his options, weighing the pros and cons, but a flicker of resistance gleams in his hues. Jisung wanted to reach and pry further, but he wasn't sure how much more he could reach out. He had begun to build the bridge to cross over this abysmal gap, but he was growing tired. He had been reaching and reaching, praying that Minho would simply just pull him across the final remnants of distance, but Minho had remained adamant on keeping his space.

Yet, for a small second, Jisung sees the part of Minho that screams for help, a steady plea in the quiet air between them, aching to be comforted amidst the tumult of his life.

"Let me in," Jisung murmurs. "Please, Minho."

Just as Minho chose to respond, the chaotic ring of the school bell chimes through the vacant halls, signaling an end to lunch and the beginning of the final hours of the school day. Jisung lets go of Minho's wrist dejectedly, his gaze turning away defeatedly as he stands there, listening to the incoming shuffle of students fleeing from the cafeteria.

"I'll see you for our session later, Jisung," Minho says softly, pulling his wrist free gently.

Jisung stands there, eyes fixated on Minho's back as the male moves out of the restroom, the door swinging closed behind him as he leaves. He wants to chase after him, but he knows better than that.

They were just friends; Jisung knew that. Whatever was brewing between them, slowly building with unspoken electricity and feelings, lay dormant, almost as if both parties had been too afraid to tap into whatever was settled in the space keeping them apart.

Even as Jisung stands there, listening to the shuffling and vibrant life outside of the closed door ahead of him, he feels as a pull of longing tears at the seams of his heart. He wanted to comfort Minho in whatever way he could, yet Minho continued to pull away, time and time again.

Despite his parent's wishes, Jisung would continue to see Minho, regardless of what it cost him, hoping that Minho would one day just open the door hiding his heart away.