Author's pov..
Another day of silence, but Jisung didn't care anymore. His mind was elsewhere-forget it, but his eyes were focused on the book in front of him.
He was peacefully reading, trying to escape the lingering thoughts that haunted him when Minho suddenly appeared, sitting down in the chair across from him.
"Here," Minho said, placing a small portfolio on the table and gesturing toward it.
"So now you're talking?" Jisung smirked, his eyes still on the pages of the book.
Minho sighed, a small exhale of frustration. "What the hell is this? What am I supposed to do with this?" Jisung muttered, his annoyance growing as he glanced at the portfolio, unsure of what to make of it.
"There are pictures of a few mansions. You can choose any one you want, live there for six months, and then you can go wherever you want after that." Minho's voice was matter-of-fact, as if this was just another simple task.
Jisung's eyes narrowed. "Oh? Now you're kicking me out?" he asked, trying to hide the hurt in his voice with a bitter smile.
"You can choose and then leave the file on my office desk in the study room," Minho said, standing up without sparing a second glance at Jisung.
Jisung felt his heart drop into his stomach. The words hit him harder than he'd ever expected. So this is it? He thought, his throat tightening. He's really asking me to leave.
The pain in his chest grew sharp, and before he could stop himself, his voice cracked. "Do-do you really not want to see me that bad?" Jisung's hands clenched into fists, trying to keep his composure, but the tears were already threatening to fall.
He fought them back as best as he could, but his heart was breaking in ways he didn't know how to fix.
Minho paused at the door, his back turned to Jisung. "I can do anything to make you feel comfortable," he said softly, the words almost lost in the silence of the room.
Then, without another word, he left, his footsteps echoing as he walked away.
Jisung was left in the stillness, staring at the spot where Minho had stood just moments ago.
His hand reached out toward the portfolio, fingers trembling, but he couldn't bring himself to pick it up.
Instead, with a cry of frustration, he threw the file across the room, watching as it slid across the floor, the pictures spilling out like a cruel reminder of the emptiness he was now facing.
Hugging his knees to his chest, Jisung let the tears fall freely, each one feeling heavier than the last.
Why did I even get attached to him? he thought bitterly. Why did I think this could work?
The pain of being left behind, of realizing that Minho, the one person he had allowed himself to care about after so long, was really walking away, was too much to bear.
He let himself cry, the silence of the room swallowing him whole, until it felt like nothing else existed except the hollow ache inside him.
And there, in the quiet darkness of his thoughts, Jisung was left to wonder how he could ever put the pieces of himself back together again.
