After Dark 》Minsung

30 》What We Do For The People We Love

Minho glanced at the midnight hour on his phone's screen. Quickly clicking the device off as he tossed his house keys down on the carpeted floors, before he flopped face down on Felix's couch.

Again.

The days he seemed to be spending away from his computer, away from the safe space of the lines he etched into his retinas through those burning pixels of his computer screens, away from the secluded walls of his apartment to not be reminded of how damn alone he was within that prison, increased gradually. Exponentially. Ever since Jisung ended their... Relationship? What kind of relationship would that have been? Based on nothing but sex, even if he hoped for their connections to blossom from the wonderful swell of feelings snuggling have them. The hookup? Aside from the hacking jobs he did to keep his bills payed and his refrigerator stocked with yummy snacks, Minho didn't spend much time at that keyboard anymore. He couldn't bear to keep sitting at that screen, glancing every few moments to the laptop to check that secured chat. Even if he knew he wouldn't be seeing a message.

Who knew heartbreak could feel so... Awful? Minho certainly didn't. Yes, he had heartbreak before. He experienced the fracturing of his heart along the chiming strings laid out inside those chambers. He experienced it with his first love, his last love, he had been in relationships that didn't leave him with good feelings after bitter splits leaving him with an arm and a leg gone, left him with good feelings that remained even when they texted to catch up with him over a cup of coffee, ripped those feelings from his lungs without mercy, this wasn't a new feeling to Bitchin' Ass Lee Motherfuckin' Minho. Losing a relationship he was invested in with his whole being wasn't a new feeling. Having a hook-up end when one of them developed feelings, wasn't new to him in any regard. Having a hook-up end when neither of them developed feelings wasn't a new arrangement to him. That's what happened. That's how the world worked.

But how intense this feeling came to him? As if his body was gutted from what little light he could catch within his skin, as if he was a toy thrown in a dumpster and forced to watch it's lifelong owner willingly leave him behind to be smelted down for scraps? As if his heart was brutally ripped from the cavity it's emptiness left in his chest, then smacked against the wall as if it was a carpet that needed to be aired out from the dust those vassels collected, thrown on a concrete road to be run over by drag cars, stomped on by sharpened stiletto heels made to piece unlucky fools, offered for the heart that belonged to him be given back, and when he said yes, slammed back into his chest so hard his lungs were knocked of their air, ripped out again, and then torn to pieces in front of his eyes while he could do nothing more than watch the shards crumble to sand.

And yes, maybe, he still scrolled tirelessly to stop the posts doxxing Jisung when they popped into his timeline again. He still tried to filter through the comments on his few social media outlets to block his name, his number, his address, those horrible thoughts from anonymous users calling that camboy a hundred different names, none of them good. He still tried to guard him, even if he knew he wouldn't be paid for the hacking he worked tirelessly over. Even if he knew it wouldn't change anything. The camboy didn't need to see those words right now. He didn't need to be straddled with the frightening knowledge he was being doxxed again, he didn't need to be burdened with those comments that called him nothing more than filth. When that was the farthest from the truth.

Eros was worshipped for love and passion.

How was Jisung any different? Why should he be the one to be used as a martyr

When his body was a temple to the divine being that lived within it? When his hands belonged to the golden effigy of carved marble serenity set on the pedestal his lustrous planate perched upon, when his plump lips gave gospel of demure promised lands within the kisses he could deliver to the sinner Minho was, when he could devote himself completely through the thundering of his heart bleeding in scarlet wines for him to drink up, to take up from the thirst for love, to be consumed within him. Divinity was within a human's hands, within their heart and their mind, within the providence of rapture rupturing grins watching from treetops.