CHAEBEOL | minsung

forty-five

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Minho has never been sure how to comfort people. Growing up like he did, you didn't comfort people; you'd try and one-up them. You'd offer up your own shitty problems, and then argue about who has it worse until you both forget you even had any problems in the first place. 

This didn't seem like it would work with Jisung. 

They'd been walking for a while, and it had been quiet, bar a sniffle from Jisung here or a murmured encouragement from Minho there. Minho didn't need to speak. He just wanted to get Jisung as far away from there as possible, as far away from the stark reality that his mum had it in her to strike him across the jaw in front of a crowd full of people. 

Maybe a train would get them far enough away. Maybe a boat, maybe a plane. Maybe a portal into an alternate fucking dimension. 

Nothing could get them far enough to forget, not tonight. So when Minho felt like he could finally feel an ice-cold Jisung starting to soften, they stopped. 

"C'mon," Minho is mumbling. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, because in his head, this isn't a person. This is Dori, sweet, skittish Dori, and one wrong word will send him scattering into a frazzled heap where Minho can't quite reach him. "It's alright. Can we sit down?"

They're in a park, and they slot nicely side by side on the swing set in the corner. The moon is starting to disembark on its slow chase of the sun across the sky. Stars keep it company, and Jisung fixes his eyes upwards. 

"I'm not sure why I feel so... jittery? Like, my insides are all... it feels like static."

"That's normal. If you've never been slapped before, I mean. It feels worse than a punch."

"Am I in shock? Or has she ruptured something, like, in my brain? Why can't I straighten my thoughts out?" Jisung still isn't looking at Minho. 

"You might be in shock," Minho answers with a nod, and he joins Jisung in watching the stars. "Wanna talk through it?"

This finally brings Jisung's gaze back to ground level. "You? You want to talk?"

A shrug from Minho. "Feels like it would be insensitive to try and fuck this out of you."

Jisung's laugh is gross, because it breaks the peace of a moonlit park and comes with a snot bubble that he doesn't quite manage to hide. Minho makes a mental note to tease him for that later. 

"But if you want to talk about psycho parents, I could write the book on it. You can say what you want. No judgement, I swear."

"Like I'd care about you judging me, street urchin," Jisung answers back with a sniff, and Minho regrets not teasing him for the snot bubble. 

"Harsh."

"I never expected her to..." He can't find the words. Minho knows the feeling. The first time is always the worst. "I've spent the last however many years forgiving her because I thought she loved me, but just didn't show it. Now what? She can... In front of that many people? Can that still be love?"

"Humans are stupid, and emotion drives us to be even stupider," Minho affirms. "Doesn't matter what the emotion is. Love, hate, shame, fear, whatever. Strong emotions make weak choices."

"Feels like we're back at the just don't feel conversation," mutters Jisung, and his voice cracks just a little as he does. "Do I tell my mum that? Or do I just stop feeling?"

"You learn to deal with it a little more," is as much as Minho can offer. 

"Never just deal with it completely?"