Beyond the Surface|| minsung

The Darkness Returns

For a few weeks, things seemed to be looking up for Jisung. The warmth of Minho's affection and the newfound sense of belonging filled a void in his life that he had almost given up on ever filling. Their relationship, still in its infancy, was a source of comfort and hope for Jisung, and he found himself smiling more often, his laughter becoming a regular sound in Minho's presence.

But the darkness that had haunted Jisung for so long wasn't so easily vanquished. Despite the light Minho had brought into his life, there were still moments when the shadows crept back in, threatening to pull Jisung under.

It started with small things. A bad grade on a test, an offhand comment from a teacher, or a particularly harsh memory that would surface when he least expected it. At first, Jisung managed to push these thoughts aside, telling himself that things were different now—that he wasn't alone anymore. But as the days passed, those small things began to pile up, forming a heavy weight that Jisung struggled to carry.

He didn't want to burden Minho with his struggles. Minho had been so kind, so patient, and Jisung was afraid that if he showed just how fragile he still was, Minho would see him differently—see him as someone too broken to love.

So Jisung kept quiet, forcing smiles and laughter even when the weight inside him grew heavier. He didn't want to ruin the happiness he had found with Minho, the fragile sense of peace that had begun to take root in his heart.

But no matter how hard he tried, Jisung couldn't escape the darkness completely.

One evening, after a particularly rough day at school, Jisung found himself alone in his room, staring at the walls as the familiar sense of despair settled over him. He had met Minho earlier in the day, and while being with him had brought some comfort, it hadn't been enough to chase away the thoughts that had been gnawing at him all day.

His mind raced with self-doubt and fear, the negative thoughts looping over and over again until they became almost unbearable. The world felt overwhelming, and Jisung felt like he was drowning, gasping for air that just wouldn't come.

He tried to distract himself—listening to music, watching videos, anything to keep his mind occupied. But nothing worked. The thoughts were too loud, too insistent, and they wouldn't leave him alone.

Before he knew it, Jisung found himself reaching for the box he kept hidden in the back of his closet. His hands shook as he pulled it out, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He knew what was inside, and a part of him screamed to stop, to call Minho or anyone else for help. But the other part—the part that was desperate for relief, for anything to numb the pain—overpowered his rational mind.

Jisung opened the box, his heart pounding in his chest. Inside was a small, sharp blade he had kept hidden for months, something he hadn't touched since Minho had come into his life. He stared at it, his mind a chaotic mess of emotions—fear, shame, desperation, and an overwhelming need for release.

His hand trembled as he picked up the blade, his vision blurring with tears. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to go back to the place he had fought so hard to escape. But the pain inside him was too much, and in that moment, it felt like this was the only way to make it stop.

Jisung pressed the blade to his skin, the cold metal sending a shiver down his spine. He hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. Memories of Minho flashed through his mind—Minho's smile, his comforting words, the warmth of his embrace. Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, a tear slipping down his cheek as he fought the urge to pull the blade away.

But the darkness was too strong. With a shaky breath, Jisung pressed down, the sharp sting of the blade slicing through his skin. He gasped, the pain both a shock and a twisted relief. It was real, tangible, something he could focus on instead of the overwhelming storm in his mind.

He watched as blood welled up from the cut, a sickening mix of guilt and release washing over him. The sight of it made him feel nauseous, but at the same time, it grounded him, pulling him out of the spiral of thoughts that had been consuming him.

But as the initial shock of the act faded, the guilt and shame came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. What had he done? How could he have let himself fall back into this? And worse—what would Minho think if he found out?

Jisung dropped the blade, his hands trembling violently as he clutched at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Panic set in as he realized the gravity of what he had just done. He couldn't let anyone know, especially not Minho. He had to hide it, had to pretend like everything was fine.

With shaky hands, Jisung grabbed a bandage from his desk drawer, hastily wrapping it around his arm. The makeshift bandage wasn't perfect, but it would have to do for now. He couldn't afford to draw any attention to himself.

He cleaned up the evidence as best as he could, shoving the box back into the closet and wiping away the bloodstains with a tissue. But no matter how much he tried to erase what had happened, the weight of his actions hung heavy in the air, suffocating him.

Jisung sat on the floor, his back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest as he wrapped his arms around them. He buried his face in his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as the reality of what he had done sank in. He had relapsed—after all the progress he had made, all the times he had told himself that he was stronger than this, he had still fallen back into old habits.

And the worst part was that he felt like he couldn't tell Minho. He was too ashamed, too afraid of what Minho would think. What if Minho saw him as weak? What if this was the thing that finally pushed Minho away?

Jisung's chest ached at the thought of losing Minho. He had come to rely on Minho's presence, on the comfort and safety he felt when they were together. But now, all of that was in jeopardy because of his own weakness.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, the darkness of the room matching the darkness inside him. He felt completely and utterly alone, even though Minho was just a phone call away.

But Jisung couldn't bring himself to make that call. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Minho, of seeing the hurt and concern in his eyes. So he stayed silent, keeping his pain to himself, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

By the time Jisung finally forced himself to move, the room was dark, the only light coming from the dim glow of his phone on the bedside table. He wiped his tear-streaked face, his movements slow and mechanical. He felt numb, drained of all energy and emotion.

Jisung climbed into bed, pulling the covers over himself as he curled up on his side. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. His mind was too loud, the guilt and shame swirling in an endless loop. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever, that eventually, he would have to face what he had done. But for now, he just wanted to escape, to forget, even if only for a little while.

As Jisung lay there in the darkness, he made a silent promise to himself. He would hide this from Minho, at least for now. He didn't want to hurt Minho, didn't want to burden him with his problems. But deep down, Jisung knew that he couldn't keep this up forever. The darkness was a part of him, and no matter how much he tried to run from it, it always found a way back.

The only question was, how long could he keep running before it caught up to him?