♡ Jisung had a bad habit of driving people away. Minho was committed to being his friend. ♡
[STORY EXCERPT]:
Jisung and his father had nothing in common except for a lack of relationships outside of each other. Jaesuk had booze and Jisung had Minho:...
Jaesuk Han was a leech — a bloodsucking parasite — who had a penchant for sucking Jisung's happiness from him, regurgitating and spitting it back into his face in the form of acidic words and callous behavior.
He was a black hole, a void devoid of compassion, a bottomless pit where nothing escaped. Each encounter with Jaesuk felt like a slow, deliberate erosion of Jisung's spirit.
Jisung arrived at the trailer a little after midnight, rapid breaths wreathing around him in a chilled smoke.
He snuck inside and slipped off his shoes that, by then, resembled worn-down pairs of elephant skin. He hoped for a Christmas miracle — that, for one night, Jaesuk could leave him be. That, perhaps, the alcohol would have finally rotted his brain enough to forget that Jisung even existed.
Upon arrival, it seemed that would be the case.
The trailer was completely shrouded in darkness, apart from the television flickering lifelessly in the makeshift living room, casting an eerie blue glow across the walls. It was the sole form of light that allowed Jisung to navigate through the trailer without cutting his feet on the scattered glass shards. Jisung stumbled, catching himself on the kitchen counter. The smell of beer was nauseatingly pungent.
"Ugh..."
Jisung froze. Somewhere in the cramped excuse of a home, was a low groan his ears picked up on. He stood up straight, blood running ice-cold — so cold, it might've stopped. He was no longer safe.
"Where were ya'?"
A slurred voice, barely coherent, rang out through the dark. A shiver shot down Jisung's spine. There was no mistaking it: a figure, hunched over and curled up against the couch, was there. Jaesuk. The beer-stenched silhouette was unmistakable.
'No.'
Jaesuk's eyes were two glowing, bloodshot, slits. He almost resembled a beast. He was a manifestation of a night terror. Jisung's heart weighed 50 tons, plummeting into his stomach.
'No, no, no, no—' THUMP! THUMP! Jisung's heartbeat pounded in his eardrums. He could hardly breathe.
"Did ya' think I wouldn't notice, ya' little shit?"
'Nononono—'
"Ya' thought I was stupid, huh?"
'Please, no—'
THUD! The sparkling emerald party bag clattered to the floor, and with it held Jisung's art materials inside.
Jisung collapsed to his knees, his heart beating so fast, he swore it would beat right out of his chest. His head was spinning. The floor seemed to be tilting in on him like some sort of psychedelic trip. His ribcage was collapsing in on him, or, at least it felt that way, as if the oxygen was being sucked from his lungs.
