He's So Innocent

Therapy(5)

There was a rash forming on Minho's neck. It was bruised and red and purple and reminded him of a huge hickey. He hated it.
He walked out of the bathroom to see if he had any concealer his sister, Lee Yuna, could have left when she visited from time to time.
There was none.
Scratching his neck, Minho walked to the living room where Jisung was sitting on the couch watching a show.
The man in the show spoke slowly and quietly so Minho turned up the volume.
"It's always your fault. You try to help and you make things worse. It's worthless to keep you on this planet at this point. You've hurt him.
You've hurt him..."
Minho tilted his head at the odd dialogue and looked over to peer at Jisung's reaction.
The boy was passed out on the couch, a red substance oozed from his eyes and nose as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
Minho absentmindedly placed two fingers on the boy's wrist. There was nothingness.
"Dead," Minho said with no emotion.
"That's how it always is," he muttered. He stood up and turned the television off. Minho reached into the crack of the couch and pulled out something smooth and silver. He pressed it to his head and closed his eyes.
"Dead," he whispered.
The world went black.
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The world was quiet and dark and sticky with sweat. The pillows and couch were damp with perspiration.
And Minho? Minho was very much alive, as well as Jisung, no matter how much the elder wanted to change that.
Minho rolled off the couch and looked around. Startled, he glanced at his hands and tried to calm himself.
Trapped. I'm trapped. I'm trapped. I'm-
Minho started to shake, it was like a shiver and then a tremble and then a film on shattering tremor went through his body.
Night terrors. Minho hadn't had one in four months. Minho hadn't had one since September.
The tremors got worse, they caused Minho to collapse into a fetal position and cry. His teeth began to chatter aggressively. He was worried about chipping a tooth.
What wasn't he worried about?
That's when he felt it.
The burning, irritable, itchy sensation above his collarbones.
Still shaking like candle's flame, Minho managed to stand his delicate body up and force himself to the bathroom. He turned on the light and squinted a bit before his eyes adjusted.
He didn't want to see what he saw.
A red cloud of rough and bumpy skin ran from the bottom of Minho's right ear and across his neck to his left collarbone. The area was enflamed and just begging for a scratch.
Minho blinked and opened his mouth. It had been four months since that last happened, he wasn't even sure he remembered what to do!
The one thing he couldn't do was wake up Jisung. It would worry him.
Is Jisung even alive?? I never checked-

Jisung was fine. Minho took a breath and cleared his head. He checked the time after grabbing his phone.

3:00

Three in the morning would not stop Minho from the one thing he needed.
His doctor.
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Minho's best friend's name was Lee Yongbok. Yongbok, better known as Felix, had a father who used to be their high school psychiatrist. When Minho graduated and left his younger friend behind, Felix's father coincidentally dropped his job to become a therapist.
Minho's therapist.

Throwing the door open, Minho stormed out and grabbed his bike. He unchained it from his porch and started to pedal. Minho's bike swerved as he pedaled, his hands reaching up to scratch his neck.

He needed Mr. Lee's help fast. And he knew exactly where to go.

There was a house seven blocks away and it was Felix's. Minho had known the way to get there since the first science project they ever did when the elder was a sophomore and Felix was a freshman in high school.
Now, scared and frantic, Minho biked faster than he ever had before.
Pulling up to the house, Minho clenched his fist on the handle brake and threw the bike to the ground. He went and knocked on the front door.
After about a minute of rapid pounding, a light switched on and someone came to the door. It opened slightly and a tallish orange haired boy with purses lips stared out.
"Hyung!" he called with glee. As his eyes adjusted with the dark light, his face faded. He pulled Minho inside.
"How did this happen?" He urged his best friend with the question. Minho couldn't speak.
The younger boy didn't need an answer. He flicked on the kitchen lights and beckoned did Minho to take a seat.
"Thank you, Felix," the elder said. The younger boy smiled and left the room. His father returned in thirty seconds time. His face was dull with concern and wrinkled with age. His black hair was disheveled from the sleep that Minho has caused to be disrupted.
"Mr. Lee-" he began. The old man hushed him and pulled him into the house's office.
Once they sat, that was when the tears started to pour. Minho never cried, and the last time he did was when he graduated from high school and had to say goodbye to Felix. He never cried when he had night terrors or was depressed. He never cried-
He felt so vulnerable.
Minho began to cover up his face and pull his shirt to hide his rash. Mr. Lee sat in his desk chair and Minho sunk into the couch still sobbing.
"Minho," the doctor started.
Minho peeked up a bit and wiped his eyes. The tears had stopped but he was still congested.
"I just-"
"Minho, my boy, go slow. I haven't seen you in a while," Mr. Lee continued as he stood up. He walked over to the window and unlocked it. The sound of sliding it opened reminded Minho of his distress. The window.
"I was trapped. I-I has this dream I had the rash and my roommate-"
"You live on school campus now?" the doctor asked carefully.
Minho shook his head. "A friend of mine who is an orphan moved in. In the dream, h-he died."
Mr. Lee scratched his nose and wrote down a few notes.
"And why do you think so? Did your mind pertain to any clues about what could have been the cause?"
Minho sniffled and scratched at his collar.
"He was watching this show before I noticed he was dead. It was odd, and like these people were talking about how it's always my fault he gets hurt?" he asked rather than explained.
Mr. Lee tapped his pen on the paper he wrote on. The cold air outside blew in but no one seemed to mind.
"So I'm assuming that the show represents this sort of-irregular-idea that you have where you hate the way you act but you don't want to hurt yourself by saying that. Your motive to get this information out is via dreaming, or night terrors in a certain attention-grabbing format. Am I wrong?" the old man exclaimed. Minho couldn't respond.
"As for the roommate, what is his name?"
Another question.
"Han Jisung."
The doctor smiled. "I know him, he's in the same year as Yongbok, he studies music however. My boy never talked to him however," Mr. Lee said.
Minho frowned. "Was it my fault?"
Mr. Lee shrugged. "Sometimes dreams mean nothing but when they have physical rolls in the body, they are mentally damaging. Perhaps your rash coming back is just coincidental to the terror of Jisung dying?"
Minho started at his hands.
"I killed myself after. I didn't wanna know anymore," he whispered.
"Know what?" the doctor asked.
"Minho?"
"I didn't want to know if I would drive him away. I didn't want to know if I put him through more pain than he had already lived through," Minho was shaking now. His subtle vibrations went unnoticed by the doctor.
"What happened to him beforehand? In real life-"
"He was abused."
"Minho-"
"Mr. Lee I think I'm gay," Minho blurted. His mind was scattered. The 3 am heat was getting to him and his brain felt foggy. This conversation he was having was a complete mess.
"I'm glad you figured out who you are," Mr. Lee said with a genuine smile. He didn't seem fazed by the confession.
"Did you know Yongbok was too?" he announced. Minho blinked once. He couldn't even process what he just said, how could he process that?
"He's been out for four months, and he's pretty proud. It's not anything to be ashamed of," the man continued.
"But I'm gay, and ill." The younger boy tried to argue his statement.
The elder man crossed his legs in his chair and sighed.
"Illness means nothing when your in love. You won't hurt him because he feels safe with you, I'm assuming it's him right, Jisung? I'm also assuming so because he moved in with you, correct?"
Minho let the man go on.
"He cares for you and admires how you care for him. I'll give you something for the rash again, but in the meantime, try sharing a room. Don't sleep on the couch like I know you do sometimes."
Minho looked up suddenly. "How'd you-"
"The rash, the window. They're linked. Your skin is sensitive to unnatural home air. You don't have windows in your living room."
Minho bit his tongue.
"I thought I just had a claustrophobic problem."
"You do," the doctor said, pushing his pen cap on, "But it didn't factor into the rash."
Minho took a moment to breathe.
"So..." he started, "you are saying that Jisung is okay? I'm not hurting him, right?" he cautiously said.
"I predict so. He enjoys being around you? Boom, nothing to worry about. For now, I wouldn't stress him by telling him about this situation, but I'll get you some pills to calm the skin," Mr. Lee answered. He stood and walked out from the room to grab the medicine.
The perks of working from home.
The old man came back with an orange bottle in his hand. The label said some medication on it and to take twice a day at night and morning.
"Here," he said gingerly. Minho grasped the bottle in his hand. He knew what these were all too well.
I hope Jisung won't mind me having these issues...
With that, he left. He took his bike back home at 4:30 when the sun wouldn't dare to rise until 7. He made it home close to five and snuck in the house. He placed the pills in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Minho attempted to snuggle onto the floor in his room without disturbing Jisung, who was sprawled out in the bed, but failed and hit the smaller boy's foot.
He awoke with a startled look.
"Hyung?" he asked as he wiped his eyes.
"You weren't sleeping here last night," he stated. Minho nodded, wrapping the blanket around his neck so Jisung couldn't see in the dark.
The boy started to gaze around and tried to peek at what he was doing.
Minho just gave up and let the blanket fall.
"Hyung? Is that a rash?" Jisung asked timidly.
"Yeah, I'm allergic to peaches."
Lies.
"Get up here, Minho," Jisung commanded suddenly. The dominance jumped out and Minho nearly gagged. "Excuse me?"
"You aren't sleeping in the floor with that rash. You could irritate it more in the carpet," he advised.
Minho became slightly amused. He stood up.
"Yeah and are you gonna sleep in the floor?"
He could have sworn Jisung turned bright red. It was too dark to tell.
"W-Well I prefer the bed, so we will have to share."
Without words, Minho climbed into bed. He kept his gazed fixed on Jisung before he turned towards the wall to rest. Minho laid facing the middle of the bed. He smiled slightly.
Jisung rolled over and didn't expect to see Minho's eyes open.
"Your eyes look nice in this light hyung," he murmured with thick sleep and grogginess. Minho draped an arm around his waist and slept more peacefully with Jisung than he had in four months.
Jisung was his therapy.
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a/n ; so actual plot is picking up. and I'm sorry if this was bad. there were a lot of ideas to get out.
much love x x