𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ♡ MinSung

Ch. 61

Minho stood over his old bed looking at the suit that had been layed out for him.

He was in his childhood bedroom, the one he had moved out of when he went into high-school. When he moved out he had taken all of his personal belongings with him, leaving this room a simple shell of what it used to be.

He was at his father's house because he was being dragged to his formal work event in about an hour, despite the fact that he hadn't even gotten dressed yet.

He was very preoccupied. The look of desperation on Jisungs face wasn't leaving his head and it was starting to chip away at his solid persona.

He was getting weak.

He ran his fingers over the soft fabric of the suit and took a deep breath, knowing he was going to have to be calm and composed for the rest of the day.

He didn't really have the energy to deal with a social gathering like that, but he had no choice in the matter. Like he had mentioned before, Minho was the puppet and his father was the puppet master.

Minho slipped his clothing off so that he was left in his boxers, glancing over at the full body mirror laying beside the bed.

He had the ideal body. A small face, wide shoulders, large muscles with a soft tone, a high nose bridge- you name it, he had it, yet he was still insecure.

He still wondered what people thought of him as he walked the halls, and thought about if they found him attractive. After all, it's not about the self confidence, its about the social confidence.

Minho quickly looked away from the mirror brushing all of the thoughts off. He picked up the suit like it was fragile glass and carefully started to slip the pants on.

As he got dressed his mind slipped to the last time he had sex.

Two days before Jisung came to his apartment for the first time? So like... 3 months ago? Of course he had done things with Jisung passed that, but still.

Normally Minho had a huge sex drive, but lately it was dying down and it kind of worried him. Had he gotten used to not having sex or something?

Maybe he just didn't want to have sex at all? Or maybe he only wanted to have sex with Jisung? Who knows.

Minho tightened his tie as he walked out of his bedroom looking down either side of the hall to see if anyone was there.

There wasn't.

He sighed and moved into the bathroom across the hall. He was feeling particularly stressed and needed to receive some of it.

He closed and locked the door behind himself, standing in front of the large mirror looking himself deep in the eyes.

What was he even doing here?

He rummaged through the bottom drawer of the counter looking for something he had kept in there for so long when he was younger.

He pulled out a sharp blade that had been snapped off of a box cutter.

A long time ago in middle school he used to cut himself, the scars still remaining on his thighs, but they were barely noticeable as he had never actually gone too deep.

By the time he had moved out he had gotten himself clean and no longer used it as a coping mechanism, so he left it in the drawer, hoping never to see it again.

A little while ago, the same night that he had broken down and confessed everything to Chan he had relapsed and done it again.

The morning after he had felt the most shitty he had in years and he was barely able to drag himself out of bed. Ever since then he had done it again a few times, but only when he was particularly stressed or sad.

Today he just felt the urge to for no specific reason. He just knew that afterwards, he'd feel that familiar rush of relief that he loved so much.

He got undressed quickly so he was left in only his white button up shirt and boxers. He pressed the blade to the already lightly scarred skin of his thighs and watched as blood slowly oozed out.

He sat there for a long moment simply watching it drip. He knew that someday someone would see his thighs and notice the scars.. but he'd deal with that problem when it came.

Sure, he'd been naked in front of women in the past, but none of them had ever noticed, and if they had, they didn't say anything.

He took a deep sigh and gave himself one or two more, the last one being slightly deeper than the first two.

He then got a tissue and wiped up the crimson liquid, not really bothering to clean the wounds. He then used some bandages and quickly got himself dressed again.

He could still feel the sharp sting of pain on his legs but he didn't mind. He deserved it after all.