In the debate world, there are five unspoken rules. The first four are trivial; simple social laws that every sane person would understand.
But the last one. Now that's something.
Rule Number Five: Never, ever, under any circumstances, date your d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
today's theme: intervention
Jisung stared down at his lap.
He was sweating nervously. In the cold breaths of Thursday afternoon, it was weird to be feeling so unnervingly warm, but most of it came from the scary afterthoughts of what was happening in front of him.
Today was supposed to be a normal day.
He had baked gingerbreads with Minho on Tuesday, then went sledding with the others on Wednesday, and then decided to take a break before ice skating—with Minho—in a few days.
Minho. Right.
There was still that aching feeling that existed in his chest. It drove him crazy, insane, to the point where he almost considered cancelling on him those last two days. It made him jump back, panting, whenever it came to him—and that was a huge problem, considering the fact that it happened almost every time Minho came near him.
Jisung had managed to barely get it under control, thumping it down back into his heart. Nevertheless, it fucked his insides to no tomorrow.
That was beyond the point of the current situation, though.
It was his general plan to stick around the house today, cook and clean and continue brainstorming for his present—a casual day for absolutely nothing. So how did he end up here?
Right, he had been kidnapped.
He hadn't been kidnapped, per se. That was a minor exaggeration. But on what was, once again, supposed to be a normal day, a single three minute exchange while he took out the trash had canceled all of that, pulled him into a car and driven him halfway across Western.
He had sat frozen in the shotgun the entire ride, praying to god and the heavens above that he wasn't about to be murdered. Because if he was, that would be on him—he agreed to go in the car, after all.
How could he not? It was him. It'd be hard to refuse him—Jisung would rather die than face the terrifying consequence of rejecting him.
They had parked right in front of a lake that had been frozen over. Little kids and their parents streaked across it, throwing snowballs and doing loops, an average winter picnic day at the park.
Meanwhile for Jisung, he was having the time of his life avoiding the gaze of the driver as he wrung his hands together in petrification, still sitting in the front seat.
So yes, sweating was completely justified. Plus, the car heat was turned on anyway.
He opened his mouth, mustering up some courage. "Uh..."
Jumin cleared his throat loudly, causing him to jump backwards. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Han."
His eyes widened. "Call me...uh. Jisung. And...you've already said that. When we, uh, when we kinda...when we met. Like...thirty minutes ago."
