Voiceless |Book 1| Complete

8 | Reticent

Jisung felt stupid. He felt hurt, tormented by the events recently. He didn't think Minho could have this effect on the him, yet the words pierced his heart like a dagger stabbing into its victim. This was why he never wanted to befriend people. Yet he had that small ounce of hope... He thought the older could be different.

Staring at the paper he was given. He wondered if Minho was sick, playing him. Why give him his number?

Jisung stormed the pathways of the university garden trying to relieve is emotions. He tried opening up, embarrassed Minho saw his body the way he did. Yet he couldn't hold himself together for the small words that were said. He avoided the question. That's all that would ever be in his mind for the next little while.

'call or text me when you are ready to trust me.'

The cold fall air clung against Jisungs body. He was feeling warm yet he was out in the cold. Only wearing his long sleeve and thin lined sweater protecting his skin he shoved his hands in his pockets. He stared longingly at the sky. Its burnt orange hue, meshing in with the yellows and purples. The chilled wind brushed against his face. Closing his eyes inhaling the fresh autumn smell. This helped him relax just a bit as he let the long breath out opening his eyes to continue walking. Yet he stopped when he saw a figure staring down at him.

His breathing hitched as he hesitantly stepped back. The dark raven haired male stood still in front of Jisung. They were both alone.

Quickly the dark haired male stepped forward, grabbing Jisungs shoulder pulling him into his bubble.

Hyunjin...

Jisung tried to pull back, but couldn't. He couldn't even speak a word to the male. He was scared as he quickly grasped at his throat instead. Trying to gasp for air that he was having no problem doing minutes prior.

"Come with me..." Hyunjins voice darkened dragging Jisung without even answering him. He dragged himself behind Hyunjin in pure terror.

Once they were out of potential sight of any other students Jisung was shoved into the wall. His spine connecting to the cement. He could feel his gash on his back probably had split open again.

With a small groan he held his pain in. He held the scream he so desperately wanted to let out, looking at the taller in terror.

"Stay away from Minho... Got it!" Hyunjin whispered into Jisungs ears sending a radiating chill down the youngers spine.

"I don't know what you did to get him to protect you, but this is my final warning mute boy. Stay. Away. From. HIM." Hyunjin towered Jisung as he pushed on the youngers throat cutting off his breathing circulation. Jisung forced his hand to tap against the olders arm. Begging to be let go.

"Wh-" Jisung attempted to choke out a why. Why was Hyunjin going after him so much. Especially because of Minho?

The older let Jisung go quickly upon hearing a small three letter word. He couldn't believe he heard the youngers voice. It trembled out with rasp. But it sounded melodic to Hyunjin.

"You... You can actually speak mute? Have you only been faking it?!" Hyunjin snickered, not believing the scene that unfolded ahead of him. Jisung was now on the ground holding his own throat chokings as he spit blood out. It burned up his throat as he could feel his small pressure cover over the deep grasp that was once there. He pushed himself up on the wall stabilizing himself.

"I- no-" the younger tried pulling at the strings that forced him to stay quiet. He tried hard to force more words out, but his vocal cords tightened making him feel like he was suffocating. Hyunjin kicked Jisung in the side of the ribs sending the blonde to his knees again. Before he left spitting at the boy.

"Heed my warning mute boy." The words echoed through the blondes head. He felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. Standing up trying to regain his balance and sense of direction. He wobbled his way home. He didn't want to stay here at the university; risking being found by Minho or Chan or worse. But he definitely didn't want to return home either; His parents being there made his world seem more toxic and trapped in a never ending nightmare. He contemplated sleeping outside, but then he would receive a worse punishment once he was known to not be home.

So he choose between the two - home or university - in the end he figured his home would be the safe option. Hiding himself in his bedroom would be safer then staying out.

He chuckled to himself,

'So this really is my life huh?' He said aloud to himself. Covering his eyes to prevent tears falling.

'When will I be free?'

He stopped in front of his home. Seeing the porch paint peeling, the windows boarded up from the outside. The broken lamp fixture that would illuminate the steps. The mould casted along the roof porch started to create a stench that smelt of mouldy cheese. The dead grass seeing no chance to revive itself until next year; even then it probably would be dead. Jisung made his way along the side of the building pulling his bag off his back and pulling the rope out. He would have to check it laptop and equipment to make sure none of it was smashed when he was thrown into the wall. Flinging the rope over the tree branch hooking his knots he climbed the tree. His fingers freezing against the rope. Stabilizing himself on the tree he pulled his small crowbar out and hoisted it under the window pane. Creating a small enough area to pull himself through into his dimmed room.

He tossed his bag aside on the bed and quickly went to his closet. His full length door room mirror that should be on the door, wasn't but sat safely inside the closet to avoid being broken. He pulled his sweater and shirt off checking in the mirror the damage done to his injury on his back. The blood dried from the pressed of his bag against it clotting it, which was ideal for him. At least it wasn't bleeding. But now his shirt was stained with blood and they had nothing in the house to wash with.

Discarding the clothing he pulled his bandage wrap from the top of the closet that was kept in a box. Wrapping it around his chest and covering his gash as best he could. It was better then nothing. Placing his usual oversized hoodie on and his black shorts. He made sure to cover as much of the bruising's he could.

Once he deemed himself covered enough, he shuffled quickly to the door of his bedroom. He knew his parents were home. So it was only a matter of time how long it'd take to cause a scene.

He avoided the newly found glass that was on the floor of the hall, remember he needs to clean it up. He went back to his room grabbing his garbage can and carefully picking up the debris that covered the house hallway. He did it ever so quietly, hoping to not provoke his parents.

"Brat! Is that you?" His mother mumbled from down the stairs on the main floor. Her words slurred. Probably drinking once again. It was almost as if he could smell it from anywhere in the house.

He stood up at the top of the stairs and nodded his head. Showing his presence was here but still remained quiet.

"You are cleaning up the mess you made I hope!" She groaned out heading into the living room. He internally scoffed. It wasn't his mess. But his parents throwing stuff across the house. He was always caught in the middle of their drama.

The life he feared he would never escape from.