As school ended, Jisung tried his best to avoid any contact with the seven boys. He walked through the crowded halls, eyes downcast, hoping to make it out unnoticed. Students jostled him as they hurried to their after-school activities, and he nearly tripped over someone's foot—Minho's, no less. Thankfully, Minho didn't notice him. Jisung let out a sigh of relief, knowing that if he had, Jisung would likely be on the ground by now.
He finally made it to the school bus and chose a seat at the back near a window. He placed his backpack on the seat beside him, a silent deterrent to anyone thinking of sitting next to him. The bus started moving shortly after, and Jisung rested his head against the window. The bumpy road made the ride uncomfortable, but it was a small price to pay for the solitude he craved.
Jisung's POV
Entering the house, Jisung was immediately greeted by his mother, who smelled like freshly baked cookies and had an apron tied around her waist. The comforting, homey scent was a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him.
"Jisungie! How was sch—" His mother, Tzuyu, noticed the red bruise on his cheek and immediately reached out to caress it softly, much like Felix had earlier. Her touch was gentle, filled with concern.
"Oh, I was drinking out of the tap and accidentally hit my cheek! It's nothing serious," Jisung lied smoothly. His mother laughed, buying his story without question.
"You're a bit clumsy," she said, giggling. "Anyway, come here, I made cookies!" She led him to the kitchen, excitement in her eyes as she anticipated his reaction to her baking.
"Oh—I'm not that hungry, Mom," Jisung replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He saw the disappointment flash across her face and felt a pang of guilt.
"Okay, come back when you feel like it, Jisungie!"
"O-okay, I'm going upstairs now," he said quickly, turning away from her and jogging to his room.
Once inside his bedroom, Jisung closed the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed. The weight of the day bore down on him, and he felt like he was drowning in his own thoughts.
Why did I lie to her? I'm a horrible son.
He stared at the ceiling, the guilt gnawing at him. No, I'm a horrible person. My mother does everything for me, and I just...
His thoughts spiraled until he couldn't take it anymore. He got up and walked to the bathroom, opening the drawer where he kept a blade hidden. The sight of it brought a twisted sense of comfort.
It feels so good, and it's like I can't stop. Well, I guess that's a bad thing, right? But whatever, I deserve it.
Sitting against the wooden door, he slowly pulled up his hoodie, careful not to catch it on the old scars. He brought the blade to his arm, dragging it across deeply. Each cut was a release, a way to punish himself for being what he perceived as a failure.
As the blade sliced through his skin, guilt and shame washed over him, mingling with the physical pain. Gosh, Jisung. This is how you relieve yourself? Cutting your body?
He watched the blood trickle down onto his jeans, feeling the sting intensify with each passing second. It hurts, but I know that I deserve it. I'm a horrible friend—wait, what? I'm not a friend to anyone.
The words echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of his isolation. The blood continued to flow, and he knew he had to clean up before his mother saw. He forced himself up and headed to the shower, the hot water stinging his fresh wounds.
This is like an everyday hobby for me, he thought bitterly. Doing something I regret, coming home, and cutting myself.
As the water cascaded over him, he tried to wash away the pain and guilt, but it clung to him like a second skin. He stood under the spray for what felt like an eternity, hoping the water would cleanse his mind as well as his body. When he finally stepped out, he felt no better than when he had stepped in.
Jisung dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, carefully covering his new cuts. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the same haunted eyes staring back at him. I'm a mess, he thought, feeling the weight of his actions settle over him once more.
He made his way back to his room and lay down on his bed, the day's events replaying in his mind. Maybe one day, things will get better, he thought, though he struggled to believe it. For now, all he could do was endure, trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and sorrow.
Jisung closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to take him away from his thoughts, if only for a little while. But even in the darkness, the pain remained, a constant reminder of the scars he bore, both seen and unseen.
a/n
LEE KNOW POV NEXT CHAPTER YAAA!
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𓊆ྀི۫ ̣̣̥ ݂ ⑅ unseen pain 𓏽ִ minsung
Fanfiction: ֺ ⠀﹒. "after everything you have been trough, you can't give up on yourself." "i'm sorry." 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 - they both find comfort in eachothers presence, but how long will it last?
