ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʟᴏʀᴇᴅ - 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀

Chapter Eight

— R POV

Minho finished hand-mixing the enormous batch of the restaurant's homemade kimchi. His arms ached like a bitch but he was just glad everything was over. He leaned back a little on the tiny ass stool he sat on that was placed on the ground with the huge peach-colored bowl in front of him. His head flew back to breathe deeply in and stretch his neck at the same time. The brunette then stood up to lift the bowl so he could place it on the counter for Changbin to store it away for fermentation. Grunting he let it drop on the metal counter before beginning to take his gloves off.

"Minho," a voice from behind called sternly. The said name turned and lifted his eyebrows when he saw Chan. He was confused because Chan looked pissed with his arms crossed and it showed his tattooed arm sleeve. "Come in the office when you're finished cleaning yourself up. We need to talk."

When he walked back into his office, Minho gulped and quickly went to wash his hands. He patted his damp hands on his apron to dry them. His feet then started making their way to the office and went in while being a bit cautious of himself.

"You need to speak to me?", he says sitting in a chair near his manager's desk.

"Jisung talked about you in an admirable way." Minho's body stiffened. "Meaning you're a step closer to being someone to him and that's not easy. So what exactly do you want?" Chan leaned on his desk with a stone-cold face that made Minho feel like he was going to be dead by the end of the conversation.

"I just want to be his friend—"

"Stop bullshitting. You're an artist, right? Are you using Jisung for your stupid paintings?", Chan disrupted not believing a single thing coming out of Minho's mouth. It was really making Minho lose his patience that Chan was interrogating him this way. Speaking of Jisung, he didn't go to the rooftop that day so having a whole interrogation about him made Minho feel stupid. He felt like he was just chasing after a person who was using him but at the same time... he just couldn't help but wait every time.

"Like I said, I want to be his friend. Why aren't you believing it?", Minho grumbled standing from his seat.  

"I'm just going to say this as a warning because Jisung is important to me." Chan took a deep breath in and out before making direct eye contact with Minho. "Don't fuck with him and hurt his well-being because I will personally go to your apartment and beat the living shit out of you. Do you understand?" The brunette grinned and nodded otherwise he'd get fired. He needed this damn job.

"Yes sir."

— J POV

I ran to my room and slammed it shut hearing my Mom's speeding footsteps following after. Why is it so damn hard to breathe normally in this situation? My head leans back on my door as I start flicking my skin with the same rubber band.

"Jisung, I need you to go to therapy. I'm worried!", she pleaded knocking on my door gently but hurriedly. I became a mouth breather and breathed in and out of my mouth.

"Therapy doesn't help!", my voice croaked with too much pressure overwhelming me. I looked up letting out a breath of air and gradually speeded the process of slinging the rubber band at my left wrist.

"Baby, please open the door so we can talk about this."

"I don't want to! The conversation is over! I'm not going Mom," I declare smacking my door to make her go away. It was arrogant and bratty, I know that but a part of me couldn't control myself.

"Han Jisung." Oh, she's real mad now. "You better stop with that attitude and respect me! We will talk about this tomorrow, I cannot watch you struggle with the problems that just keep building up. Prepare yourself for a conversation in the morning when I drop you off at school." I can hear her walking away, the tapping of her house slippers fading.

I wish Minho was home but he wasn't. I want to be with Minho, I want to sit near him while he paints and speaks, I want to speak to him... I want to be with him? Why do I want this? Why do I want him? Is it that comfort of feeling safest with him? Why him? Minho. Maybe because he protected me from my bully? Or maybe it's how he didn't give up on becoming my friend. Or that hug from yesterday with that nostalgic scent. I miss Minho.