Broken (MinSung 18+)

Chapter 7

TW: Addressing Self-Harm (no current actions)

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Jisung excitedly ran up to his new room and inhaled deeply as he took in everything. This is mine. This is my room. My space.

He first jumped onto the bed and laid staring at the ceiling before panic began to set in. He was too focused on the excitement of having his own living quarters to realize that this meant he would be in this large area by himself, engulfed by the lonely space. He swallowed the molded anxiety in this throat and sat up quickly,  his skin feeling too tight, bringing his knees into his chest.

I get to live in a house probably as big as the Pope's fucking palace or whatever and I can't just enjoy it. Why? Why am I like this?

He peeled his head back up as he tried to control his growing, erratic breathing. It was like the emptiness of the room was swallowing him hole, screaming at him until he couldn't ignore the flashbacks any longer. They began racing through his mind at lightening speed until he dug his nails into his arm to ground himself.

What do I do? Not like I can ask anyone to stay with me. That was embarrassing enough the first time. I'm gonna look like fucking Tinkerbell- like I'll die without attention. I can see it now. I'll be like Sunshine- my non-official codename's gonna be Tink. One letter off from being more accurate and hilarious.

He tried desperately to makes jokes in his head as a way to calm himself, but the self-deprecation only made his building anxiety worse, so he changed tactics.

You're not locked in. You're not stuck here, and you're not a child anymore. You can leave if you want to. If you need to. You are okay. You are just fine.

He swallowed harshly at the lodging air still building in his throat, and moved to the edge of the bed slowly before making his way to the balcony doors, sliding them open to step outside. The cool air felt like a mint face wash on his skin. Bright and prickly, but welcomed. As the balcony doors were still opened, he could very clearly hear a loud knock rapping on his bedroom door.

His head snapped back to it and he yelled "Come in," since he wasn't sure if his shaking legs could make the distance to open it, himself. Minho walked in holding a small black case.

"Oh god, tell me those are handcuffs." Jisung said, smiling as he leaned against the balcony's wide entrance, trying to hide how he was struggling to keep balance.

Minho's eyes closed for a few seconds as he stood there, as if he was sincerely reconsidering coming in the first place. When he opened them, he rolled them slightly and motioned towards the bed.

"Wait are they handcuffs? I'm so down. Is this part two of our enemies-to-lovers trope?" Jisung chuckled slightly before taking a step forward to close the outside entrance behind him.

"Han- no. And enemies? That lasted maybe two hours. If anything, we're strangers. I don't let enemies live in my home. Now come sit, please."

The younger slowly moved over to the bed while he regained full movement of his lower limbs. "So why am I sitting, and what's in the case?"

"Can I get you to trust me for a minute?" Minho asked gently as he brought up a chair beside the edge of Jisung's new bed. The boy tilted his head slightly. "I mean I don't really have a choice, do I? You could go all Godfather-meets-Jeffrey-Dahmer on me if I don't listen to you."

Minho dropped his head for a moment and let out a breath somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "Trust goes both ways. I have to show you that I'm someone you can come to rely on. You're free to say no if you're ever uncomfortable with a situation or request, just like everyone else in this house."