"𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒'𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑,
𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠"
❛ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈
❛ 𝒕𝒘𝒔: 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆
❛ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 1000
***
Minho swears he's hallucinating. He must be. This must be one of those absurd dreams where he runs but doesn't get anywhere, his feet stuck to the ground, unable to move a limb. Those dreams always feel so realistic, they almost take him with them everytime.
He wakes up though. Every time.
And the universe is still the same.
The thick, gray smoke that is floating out of one of the open windows looks real. It has Minho stopped as he analyses it, a deep frown on his face.
It becomes realer when he smells it.
The alarm bells go off.
Not even taking any time or making any rational conclusions, he spurts straight into the tall apartment building even though the ground is icy.
He doesn't care about other people or the fact that he's rushing into a building that's currently on fire. He's in a hurry.
Fifth floor.
Fifth floor.
Fifth floor.
The firealarms are on. The beeping sound is deafening, piercing his ears.
The elevator doors don't open. Of course they don't.
He runs up the stairs, thighs burning and out of breath.
Fifth floor.
Jisung can't be home. He just can't be in the apartment right now.
Why am I running then? If Jisung isn't even in this building? If he's somewhere safe? If he's completely and utterly okay like he was this morning?
Somewhere deep in his head he's fearing the worst, almost sure of the fact that things aren't the way they should.
The smoke is gathering up in the ceiling and there are more and more of it as he makes his way to the fifth floor.
He coughs as he reaches the corridor of the fifth floor.
He sprints to the right door. It's wide open and the dark smoke that is invading his airways is floating through the doorway.
Shit.
What the fuck has even happened?
He's always so careful. Jisung is always so careful.
The building is a relatively old cement giant though, so it must the electricity wires or something.
There are so many rational ideas about why the insides of this building are burning to ashes right now.
"Jisung?" he says with a raised voice. There are shoes haphazardly littered on the floor.
Jisung's shoes. He's here.
Fuck.
"Jisung?!" he shouts louder and coughs.
He makes his way inside. All the windows are open, the kitchen is fine, the bathroom is fine, the-
There are a huge mess though.
The livingroom is not fine. There's a pile of what Minho can't recognise and it's completely on flames, right there in the middle of the living room, on the rug.
And Jisung. He stands right next to it, his back to Minho.
His head is hanging low and he looks so small in the space that is currently spitting flames everywhere.
"Jisung?! What are you doing?!" Minho shouts. The other boy doesn't move a finger.
Fuck.
Nothing else matters. The universe doesn't matter as Minho takes Jisung's hand in his and pulls him with him.
They don't really have time even if it feels like it has stopped.
They make their way outside, stumbling and coughing, but they make it outside. Minho pulls the younger boy who follows him silently like a ghost.
He must be in shock or something.
There are firetrucks already on the parking lot, blue lights flickering, and a bunch of people as well. There's a child crying somewhere.
No one seems to notice them though as they go to Minho's car. It's on the other side of the parking lot, in a good distance from the hysterics.
He fishes his keys from his pocket and grabs a blanket from the backseat. He keeps it there for Jisung for when he naps in the car during long drives.
He wraps the gray blanket around the shaking shoulders of the younger who's curled up on himself, making himself look small and humble.
Minho motions Jisung to sit on the passenger seat, opening the car door for him.
He goes, silently, looking forward, eyes unfocused and cloudy.
Minho goes around the car to sit in the driver's seat.
He sighs as he looks out the window and watches the people in front of the building.
There are firefighters running around. There are paramedics and poor, evacuated people, trembling because of the cold.
There are white, tiny little snowflakes floating in the air, making the air looking glittering.
This is the same universe as it was in the morning.
"Are you mad?" says a quiet, quiet voice next to Minho.
Minho turns to look at the owner of the shaky voice. His heart shatters.
He places his hand on Jisung's, squeezing his cold hand.
"No, Jisung... No, I'm not mad" he reassures.
He frowns though.
"Are you feeling any pain? Are you hurting somewhere?"
Asking if Jisung is okay sounds absurd. Of course he isn't okay. Who is okay in this kind of situation?
Hell, Minho isn't okay himself.
He's fucking terrified.
Jisung shakes his head. He's pale, eyes wide and glassy; he's probably in some kind of shock or in a silent anxiety attack.
Minho offers his best support.
"You said I have to move on... And I can do that by destroying the memories..." Jisung whispers.
Minho takes a moment to process it.
He closes his eyes, his hand never leaving Jisung's.
Oh God, no.
"Jisung..." he says. He brushes through his hair woth his other hand.
"Yeah, I did say that, Jisung, you're right... But..."
"I'm sorry"
"No, don't say that, Sung, I just... I didn't mean like this... I..."
"I don't know what to do!"
"Jisung... Don't think about it right now, just... Don't think about anything now, okay? Can you do that?"
A nod.
"Good. Hyung will take care of anything"
This will not only be a long night but a very long winter as well.
