𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ♡ MinSung

Ch. 141

Was Chan mad that Minho had failed to inform him of the breakup? Well, no, he was more just disappointed. He had always been the person that Minho went to when he was upset.. but now he wasn't?

That is, he was disappointed until he found Minho curled up in his bed looking a whole mess and holding on for dear life to Jisung's notebook.

When he saw that, he nearly cried. He was fast asleep at 1pm in the afternoon with wet cheeks and frumpled hair. How could he be worried about his own relationship with Minho when Minho clearly had bigger problems to worry about?

The elder gently sat down on the edge of the bed with Minho's face towards him and reached his hand out, softly stroking his hair. How long had he been like this? Since the day he went to check on Jisung?

Chan knew that Mr. Han made Jisung choose and all, but he thought that it would go over just like the last time he said they couldn't see eachother. He hadn't expected them to actually end it all..

Minho's eyes fluttered open upon feeling his older brothers touch. His looked up in the dim room to see his brother looking down at him. "I take it you know." He muttered, looking away.

Chan nodded, "I'm so sorry.."

There was a silence until Minho opened his mouth to speak again, "Don't be. I should have seen this coming right?"

Chan swallowed, knowing that Minho was a little bit right, but didn't say anything. "I'm worried about you, Minho.." he whispered, "Have you had anything to eat today?"

Minho shook his head, "This is only the second time I've been awake. I don't like to be awake so I sleep, but even my dreams are starting to go rotten."

The elder placed his hand on the journal tucked tightly in Minho's arms and tried to gently pull it away. When Minho realized he quickly tried to grab it back. "No—"

"Come on baby.. you'll wreck it if you sleep with it like that." Chan said, placing it on the bedside table, "That book won't go anywhere while you're not looking."

Minho let out a deep sigh, "But if I try hard enough, it still smells like him."

Chan pressed his lips together, "You're such a mess.." he said it delicately, like Minho might break, "I'm going to make you some warm soup. You try and get up okay? I'm thinking maybe we can go for a little walk outside?"

Minho let out a whine, "I don't want to get up."

"Going out will make you feel a little better. Even if it's just in the garden behind the building for five minutes." The elder hummed.

Minho didn't seem to like the idea but none the less agreed, sitting up, "Fine. I'll go make my bed and have a shower or something.. I dont wanna look like trash for the whole world to see. For all I know there's fucking news cameras waiting for me."

Chan smiled, seeing his brother start to finally pop through from the depressed cloud that hung from his shoulders like a weight. He gave the younger a quick hug and kiss of the forehead before standing up and heading for the door.

"See you on the other side." Minho said, closing the bathroom door.

. . .

Minho left the bathroom now, his hair damp and body feeling heavy still. His room looked like a mess but at least he looked slightly better, right?

The kitchen smelled nice, like chicken noodle soup, and it made his mouth water. He hadn't had a proper meal since his dad stopped by.

He was wearing some joggers and a loose t-shirt now, and he had to say, clean clothes made him feel so much better.

Chan smiled warmly upon seeing him, already seated at the table with the canned soup sitting in two steaming bowls.

He sat down feeling refreshed. He was proud that he hadn't broken down in tears yet. That must be a record by now, and thinking about it he realized that he should really be drinking more water.

Chan put his phone down on the table, "Feel a little bit better now?"

Minho nodded, pulling the chair out to sit down. He started to eat as soon as he could, seemingly just recently realizing how hungry he was.

He was about halfway done his bowl when he realized that his brother hadn't even touched his own. "Chan? Aren't you gonna eat?"

He noticed that his brothers eyes were fixed on something. Minho tried to look where he was looking, and landed on his own wrists, seeing the red cuts that hadn't been rebandaged.

He quickly dropped his spoon and put his arms in his lap under the table, but it was too late now. Chan already knew. "Chan—it's not what it looks like, 'kay? I swear to God I haven't been cutting."

"Then where did they come from?" He didn't skip a beat in asking.

"Uhm.." Minho wasn't sure what excuse to use. It's not like he owned a cat.

Before he could answer though, Chan gave a few more words, "You know you can always come to me when you feel like that okay? I don't want to see you doing that shit anymore. You've been through this before, you need to stay clean.."

Minho shook his head, "Chan you're everyone's therapist, the last thing you need is to be babysitting me. I'm 18, I can deal with this stuff myself."

The elder let out a dry, humorless chuckle, "Clearly you can't, Minho."

Minho looked down at his bowl, no longer feeling hungry. Now he just felt a pungent guilt start to seep through him.

Why was it that he couldn't be anything but a burden?