DELICATE | Hyunjin Centric

TEN

"Sorry, I don't want your touch"

🤍

"Hyunjin, right?" His heart felt erratic in his chest, eyes wide as he stared at the older in front of him. His book being forgotten for a second as he nodded. "I'm Kim Byosun, we have homeroom together" he stated, grabbing a chair and taking a seat in from of the older with an unpleasant creaking of the chair being pulled along.

The library was quiet, empty but a familair emptiness that Hyunjin had once cherished. "I know, I've seen you before" Hyunjin stated, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the old book nervously, the red head catching the action but not speaking on it, rather continuing with what he was going to.

"You're pretty, for a guy" the older stated, lifting his hand closer to the tallers hair. Immersed in how nice and shiny it was compared to most guys, the younger mistakenly flinching away from his touch almost mechanically. "Oh..?" he muttered, almost sounding offended. Dropping his hand as Hyunjin felt ashamed, not knowing why he had flinched either.

He liked the transfer. Touch, that should be something he wanted. But he did not want it from him, even if he hadn't consciously known that, his subconscious had. There was no reason he could explain why he exactly felt uneasy but... the feeling was there.

"Sorry" He apologised, eyes glancing back and forward before staring down at his long fingers. He started to struggle sitting before the red heads gaze any longer, standing up abruptly— needing an escape as he walked away. Leaving the old book on the table without a second thought.

It was a small meeting. A casual conversation if that even— how, how could he expect everything to play out as it did?

"Faggot"

"Faggot"

"Faggot"

No one saw him the same anymore. As if he was only seen by the fact he was interested in guys. That was him, that was all they would ever see or think of him as. The guy who liked other guys. "Whoops" a teasing voice apologised. Their shoulder barging into Hyunjin as the impact made the tallers books topple from his hands.

Falling to the ground messily with a rather embarrassingly loud thud. He felt like screaming, liking wringing a cord around his neck whenever he was mentioned.

"H—Hyunjin?" Jeongin asked, laying the phone down gently on the olders desk as he sat on the bed before him. Taking his hands in his own, massaging his soft skin. "A—Are you okay?" He stuttered out worried, eyes fretting over the others sickly pale face.

No, he wasn't. But the humiliation that came from admitting he felt fragile and weak had caught in his throat. He wanted to scream and fight it all, but nothing would come out except his pathetic empty sobs. Slowly, he shook his head in defeat.

He wasn't okay.

The younger brought him into a hug, letting the older cry onto his shoulder as he tried to sooth his pain even if by a bit. "I—It's okay to cry" he whispered to him, and the older did. For hours, until his throat felt raw— his eyes hurt and his face numb Yet the younger stayed next to him, holding him close. Never saying a word more as he let Hyunjin cry.

-

"Where is it?" She huffed. Going through the old papers and photos. The tattered box of her high school memories held in that one box, yet she couldn't find it. Her hands fidgety as she struggled. "Red hair, tattoo" she muttered. "Why?" Feeling a sting, one of the papers in her hand fell from her grip, a paper cut on her frail finger.