VIVA LA VIDA ━ MINSUNG ✓

ARMY OF ONE

Closing the door behind him as silently as he could, Jisung slowly made his way up the staircase— careful to avoid the creaky steps— up to his bedroom. He didn't want any unnecessary contact with his parents, his only goal being to get to his room and fall asleep so that he could go to school and see Minho.

He'd spent all day with the elder boy, however he was certain that no amount of time with Minho would be satisfying enough for him. He felt undeniably comfortable with the elder, his home no longer a house with walls but a person with captivating eyes and comforting arms that embraced him lovingly. Just thinking of the other boy was enough to make Jisungs heart beat a little faster, and he felt a familiar ache in his chest as he longed to be within the embrace of the boy he'd grown to love spending time with.

Immediately locking his bedroom door behind him, the blonde let out a soft sigh as he realized that his room had been completely ransacked.

Kicking off his shoes and tossing his phone onto his bed, Jisung slowly picked up the clothes that had been thrown out of his drawers, most likely from his mother, who probably hadn't been satisfied by the amount of money she had found in the bedside table.

Jisung had felt incredibly embarrassed by the phone call that Minho had overheard, wishing that he had had enough sense to just give his mother what she wanted without question.

Quickly changing his clothes and double-checking that his bedroom door was locked, the blonde rolled onto his bed, wrapping himself up in his comforter. He hugged his pillow to his chest tightly, hoping that it would at least slightly mimic the feeling of cuddling with Minho, but to no avail.

The boy drifted off into an uneasy sleep, knowing that whatever peace or serenity he may end up feeling throughout his slumber would only come to an end the minute he opened his eyes.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡+..｡*ﾟ+ .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

Three, hard knocks rose the boy from his less-than peaceful sleep, causing a light groan of frustration to leave his lips from the sudden loud sounds. Slowly sitting up, Jisung rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to the best of his abilities, before making his way over to the door.

"Who is it?" he choked out, too tired for this. It was too early in the morning for this, and he still needed to clean up his bedroom that he usually liked to stay neat.

"Open up," came the gruff voice of his father, his speech slurred. Jisung knew what that meant, and felt a wave of sickness rush over him instantaneously.

The knocks slowly morphed into bangs, and Jisung grew worried that his door might even break down. Preparing himself mentally, the blonde turned the lock and slowly opened the door.

His fathers eyes were blood shot, a bottle in one hand and a joint in the other. It was obvious to the blonde that his father wasn't sober, whether it was off of alcohol or whatever drugs he had decided to abuse that morning.

"Look at me," the man snarled, causing Jisung to inwardly flinch before he glanced up.
"Can't even look me in the eyes?"

Jisung inhaled sharply once his father stepped inside of his bedroom, looking around with a judging sneer plastered onto his face.

When his parents were younger, they'd fallen in love too quickly, committed too quickly and had two children without even thinking about it.

When they were sober, Jisung thought that they were.. bearable, to say the least. His mother was loving (in her own way), his father minded his own business, however it always came to an end as quickly as it started, and then the house would reek of cocaine and different assortments of alcoholic beverages.

"What do you need, dad?" Jisung asked quietly, cringing at how meek he sounded. He didn't like the way his own personality tended to shift on its own accord. At school, he was the loudest in the class, the class clown. With Minho, he always felt incredibly shy, his face beating up every five seconds. At home? He hated how weak he sounded.

"What? No good morning?" his father scoffed, attention moving to the rest of the bedroom. "Your room is a mess. Clean it up before school."

The blonde fought back the urge to yell, to hit him, to punch a wall. It wasn't even his fault for his room ending up like that, yet he was still on the receiving end of the blame.

"Mom did that," Jisung mumbled, speaking as quietly as he could with the hope that his father wouldn't be able to hear him.

But in what world did the universe ever listen to what he wanted?

The familiar pressure of fist meeting jaw pulsated through Jisung, who stumbled against the wall from the impact. His eyes stung with tears that he knew he could never let fall, and he clenched his hands into tight fists.

"What?" the man before him sneered, looking down at Jisungs shaking fists. "Going to defend yourself? You're weak, you've always been weak."

I don't like the idea of someone trying to hurt you.

With the image of the elder boy in his head, the ghost of his embrace reminding him what it felt like to be loved, Jisung connected his fist with his fathers nose.