How to Be Human [EDITING]

❤︎

ACT ONE

Love.

The concept of love is mythic: a fairy tale stuffed with inconsistencies and unrealistic consistencies that makes it nothing more than something only the children believe in.

Jisung supposes that he's living his fairy tale.

His heart has been torn open—red and fleshy—an unending torrent of emotion that's indescribable in words.

It feels like love, like the out-of-reach spark that flickers when all Jisung has known is darkness. It's the first ray of sunshine that filters through bleak curtains; a kiss of warmth that graces broken skin.

It's too good to be true.

It's like tunnel vision, in an ever-perfect world where nothing bad happens as you fall further, fall harder. It's indescribable In monosyllabic terms; it's out of this galaxy. The hormonal high pales in comparison to taking a handful of psychedelics.

It's the painkiller after a surgery. It's the reason behind every dopey smile...or most, at least.

Love is a concept that Jisung Han doesn't understand quite yet. But that's alright. Sometimes you don't understand how you feel.

Sometimes it drives you insane, to the point where you're gripping at abused hair strands, clinging to the semblance of sanity you once knew. Sometimes you're begging your brain to simply obey and evict your special "person" from their residence in your head.

Sometimes, the fact that you don't just 'get it' frustrates you.

"I love you"s hold the weight of a million implications. The words feel foreign on his tongue, almost dead.

The statement blossoms in his irises, drowning Minho Lee in tawny, fond gazes that whisper "I love you"s unspoken. The truth dances along bisque skin, shooting lightning rods into Jisung's fingertips when they hold hands. "I love you" brews in his mouth, ready to be spilled into Minho's with a simple kiss.

Still, "I love you" is the sentence that dies out on his tongue.

(For fuck's sake, Felix gets back together with Eli–fucking–Anderson and exchanges "I love you"s within a week. A week!)

Jisung's seventeenth birthday swung by, and he stammered a jumbled mess of syllables when he really meant to say "I love you." He baked a cake with Minho from dawn until dusk, the phantom of Minho's warm hands forever embedded into his skeletal bones.

Jisung had never baked a cake before, but that's the crazy thing about love: it makes you do things you'd otherwise never do.

Love is an escape; a new home to seek refuge in while your life slowly shatters to pieces.

By the time Jisung turned seventeen, his family had already been at rock-bottom.

Arguments blast through the household almost every day, all centric around petty things like finances and Jisung's future. Explosive curse words masquerade as "I love you"s, and week-long breaks from each other pretend they're 'for the better'.

And Jisung watches from afar, studying each dejected facial expression from his father as he turns to alcohol once more. As John drinks his liver to a crisp—until it's nothing but speckles of ash.

Mornings are spent drunkenly rambling about a girlfriend that Jisung doesn't have and never will have. Evenings are spent apologizing for inappropriate language and insisting that he loves Jisung regardless of his sexuality.

Love. It's a funny concept. Jisung's unsure what that looks like in his household.

Jisung often lies to his mother about his whereabouts. And if there's one fact he knows about love, it's that you don't lie to the people who you claim to love.

With Minho, things are different. He can tell Minho anything, so he tells Minho everything.

Simultaneously, Jisung knows nothing about Minho. Minho pirouettes around talking about his family, or why he doesn't live with them. Minho dodges the truth when Jisung discovers the tiny slits on his chest—ones he insists are from the shower.

Minho is a fragile vase, one that cracks with each push, each press, every query for the truth that Minho refuses to tell.

It leaves Jisung questioning.

Is it true love if you can't be honest?

Rather, is it possible to fall for someone who, outside of meticulously crafted personas, you know nothing about?