𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

Fly With Me

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Summary:

If Jisung and Minho had met under different circumstances, perhaps things would've turned out differently. They could've been friends, brothers, or something more. But alas, life isn't kind to lost boys nor is it merciful even to those who have so much light to offer. Two boys, a similarly morose fate, and many empty words in a hopeless place.

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~Present~

"Hey, Minho hyung, did you ever get to try cheesecake up there?" A tired Han Jisung had swung himself into the cell, momentarily startling Minho from the cot where he was sewing. His pair of work pants had been torn and the boy was forced to beg for a spool of thread and a needle, insisting that the most harm he could do with it is prick his finger or stab his own eye. Minho was tired of working on manual labor, the long hours and heavy lifting of stones making his back creak in ways someone his age shouldn't be subjected to.

"Of course I did. Didn't you?" Minho smirked at the younger, dropping the piece of cloth into his lap. "You're the self proclaimed expert of the above."

"I'm an expert in some things, but my short 16 years up there didn't let me get to have everything ok." The younger puffed his cheeks cutely and shifted the lock on the door. The Underground 9 didn't have many strict rules for being such a notorious prison, but it did have many regulations that had been decided upon by the residents themselves.

Rule 2: Always keep your cell door locked when you are inside. You never know what someone would be willing to do for an extra ration or pair of shoes.

Minho rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, glad to have Jisung back despite his loud tendencies. Jisung worked as a sort of radio DJ, broadcasting to the surface and being well known for his bright commentary and deep understanding of music. Minho isn't sure what the younger was up to when he was living above, but he would be willing to bet on it having something to do with creating his own music. It was no secret that Jisung had a beautiful voice, one that entered Minho's dreams when he least expected it and a poeticism that was usually hidden behind a silly joke or teasing.

Rule 5: Don't talk about who you were before you came here or what you did unless it is unavoidable.

"They've been shortening my program hyung!" Jisung ran a hand through his fluffy brown hair. Minho had never understood how the younger kept himself so put together, but he wasn't going to question it if it meant he got to run his fingers through the boy's soft strands. "It's only a matter of time before they cut me out completely." Minho wasn't a fool, he could hear the undertones of fear in Jisung's voice. Jisung wasn't as physically adept as Minho, despite being relatively fit himself. He was smart and talented, but the underground was getting more crowded and the boys' cellmates were getting antsy.

"Don't be foolish Sungie. They would never drop you like that; your program gives them way too much money and clout." Jisung scoffed but his shoulders relaxed slightly at the reassurance. "Did you get your rations for the week?"

"Of course. I just haven't gotten around to eating them." Minho squinted his eyes at the younger who was organizing his knapsack on the small table at the back of their cell. The edge of a wrapper peaked out from the bag along with a ratty notebook and shakily made pencil (Minho had carved it for the boy's birthday last year).

Rule 7: Every prisoner is allowed one sack of items, no more no less. It must be kept on them at all times and anything else found in or outside the cells besides assigned clothing will be disposed of.