The Black rose (Minsung ff)

Truth

Minho stood outside Jisung's room, his hand hovering over the door handle. His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy weight pressing against his ribcage. The hallways of the Black Rose mansion were deathly silent, and yet Minho's thoughts were loud, screaming at him from all directions. He had never felt so torn.

His fingers finally curled around the handle, pushing the door open with the faintest creak. The dim light of the room washed over him, illuminating a scene that twisted something deep in his gut.

Jisung was curled up on the bed, his small frame shaking with soft, barely audible sobs. His face was half-buried in the pillow, but the sheen of tears was unmistakable. His entire body looked exhausted, drained of the life and energy Minho had once adored so much. The sight of him, so broken, made Minho's chest tighten painfully.

This wasn't love. What Minho had done to Jisung—what he was still doing—wasn't love. But his obsession had long since spiraled out of control, and no matter how much he hated himself for it, he couldn't stop. He couldn't let go.

He took a hesitant step into the room, his throat tightening with guilt as he heard another soft sob slip from Jisung's lips. He hadn't even noticed Minho yet, too lost in his own misery. Minho's heart sank. He had been so focused on keeping Jisung close, on owning him, that he had forgotten what it meant to actually care for him.

"Ji," Minho whispered softly, his voice almost a plea.

Jisung flinched, his body jerking slightly at the sound of Minho's voice. He wiped at his eyes quickly, desperately trying to erase the evidence of his tears. When he finally looked up, he forced a smile—a heartbreaking, strained smile that only made Minho feel worse.

"Hi, my love," Jisung said, his voice trembling just enough for Minho to notice.

Those words. "My love." They were meant to soothe Minho, to calm the storm in his chest, but instead, they only fueled his guilt. He didn't deserve to be called that, not after everything he'd done to the boy sitting in front of him.

Minho's chest ached as he walked closer to the bed. His hands itched to reach out, to pull Jisung into his arms, to make everything right. But how could he, when he was the reason Jisung was so broken?

"Ji," Minho began, his voice thick with emotion, "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine, hyung," Jisung replied quickly, his smile still in place. It was so automatic now, so practiced. He was used to pretending. Used to hiding how much he hurt.

But Minho wasn't going to let him hide this time.

"I'm sorry for what's about to happen," Minho said quietly, his words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

Jisung's smile faltered. "What?" His voice was small, fragile.

Minho sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. He couldn't put it off any longer. Jisung deserved to know, at least part of it.

"I think you deserve to know," Minho started, his eyes focused on the floor, unable to meet Jisung's. "About Operation Ivy."

The silence between them grew heavy, and Minho felt Jisung shift slightly, his body tense with anticipation. He could sense the fear rising in the younger boy, but he had no choice. The truth had to come out.

"Operation Ivy is... it's a plan. A virus is being released to the public, soon. It's deadly, but the Black Rose is also going to release an antidote." Minho continued, his voice growing colder as he forced himself to speak. "The antidote contains chips. Chips that will allow us to control every single soul existing."

Jisung's eyes widened in horror, but he remained silent, his trembling hand clutching the blanket tighter.

"The guards, the ones here in the mansion and all other minions, assassins and everyone under the while roses... they've already been injected with their own version of the chip. It was done yesterday. It confirms their loyalty," Minho explained, his words clipped and emotionless. "Those who refused... they were killed. And new recruits were brought in. All elite. All willing to Be bound to the chip. Now security is stronger than ever."

Jisung's breath hitched, the reality of Minho's words sinking in. His wide, terrified eyes turned toward Minho, searching for something—anything—that could make sense of this nightmare.

"The chip," Minho continued, "it does more than just control loyalty. It can kill. It can torture. It can poison, tear someone apart, with or without killing them. It's all in my hands, Ji."

Jisung stared at him, his lips trembling as he tried to process the magnitude of what Minho was telling him. The boy looked so small, so scared, and Minho hated himself for being the cause of that fear.

"That's all you need to know," Minho said, his voice barely above a whisper.

But Jisung shook his head, his fingers gripping the bed tightly. "No... no, hyung, there's more. You said they mentioned the red rose in that meeting. Why was I mentioned?"

Minho's heart froze. He had hoped Jisung wouldn't ask, wouldn't force him to reveal the truth. But now, looking into those tear-filled eyes, he couldn't lie.

"Hyung... d-do you want me killed? Is that why I was mentioned?" Jisung asked, his voice breaking as tears spilled down his cheeks.

The pain in Jisung's voice was unbearable. The fear in his eyes was too much for Minho to take.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, a single tear slipped down Minho's cheek, tracing the hard line of his jaw. He had never cried in front of Jisung before—never let himself show that kind of vulnerability. But now, he couldn't hold it back.

"No, Ji," Minho whispered, his voice cracking as he reached out and pulled Jisung into his arms. "No. I could never want that."

Jisung's body shook against his, the sobs wracking his small frame as he clung to Minho, desperate for some kind of comfort, some kind of reassurance that everything would be okay.

But Minho didn't know how to give him that.

He held Jisung tighter, pressing his lips to the top of the younger's head, breathing in the familiar scent that always calmed him. He hated himself. He hated his obsession, his inability to let go, the way he had turned Jisung's life into a cage.

"I'm sorry," Minho whispered again, his voice barely audible over Jisung's soft cries.

He hated that he couldn't give Jisung the love he deserved—the love he so desperately wanted to give him. He hated that he had turned into this person, someone who would go so far as to make a chip to completely control the younger that he loved just to keep them close.

Jisung was too innocent, too pure for this world Minho had dragged him into. He didn't deserve the darkness, the manipulation, the pain. And yet, Minho knew that he couldn't let him go. Jisung was too precious to him, too vital to his very existence. He was the sunshine in Minho's Dark and lonely life.

And that was why Minho would guide him.

The chip would ensure Jisung's safety, his obedience. Minho wouldn't have to hurt him, not unless absolutely necessary. He would take care of him, protect him from everything—including himself.

Jisung was his, and Minho wouldn't lose him.

He couldn't.

Minho held Jisung even tighter, letting the boy cry into his chest, knowing that soon, everything would change.

Every maniac needs his red rose.