Do that again || MINSUNG

I

Jisung was loud. He always had been.

He was the popular, sporty jock who liked to go out and have fun.

"You're a fucking faggot."

And then there was Minho. Quiet and ugly was what he'd call himself, but he knew it wasn't true. Jisung told him otherwise all the time.

"You should drop dead already. You're a waste of space."

Just not now. At school, in public, he would never be nice to him. Minho didn't understand how he let it get to this. They fucked around and kissed way too much for Jisung to be acting this way, but the older figured it was just internalized homophobia. It hurts, yes, but he wants to help Jisung. Although he doesn't know if it's even helping at all, not speaking up. He regrets not asking the younger to be his boyfriend when they first kissed. Maybe that would've prevented all of this.

Minho noticed Jisung sitting on the swings when he walked home from dance practice. At this point the younger wasn't telling Minho mean things, so when the taller noticed Jisung was crying he couldn't help but approach him. He also might have had the tiniest crush on him. It wasn't going to be anything anyway; Jisung was the hottest guy in all of his classes.

"You're in my English class, right? I'm Minho, why are you crying?"

Jisung sniffed and looked up at him with teary eyes, holding eye contact for a few seconds before huffing and looking away.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I can sit next to you to keep you company if you want to?"

Jisung mumbled a 'whatever' in response, Minho taking it as a sign to sit down on the swing next to him.

"Why aren't you swinging? It's more fun than staring at the ground," the taller began with a soft grin, pushing off lightly.

"Nothing's fun when your mom calls you a piece of shit all the time and your dad left instead of dealing with you."

"Fuck, are you okay?" Minho jumped off the swing, stumbling when he landed as he made eye contact with the other boy.

"I'm so sorry about that, she's definitely lying. You're nothing like what she calls you," the taller slowly approached the younger who stared at him, a gaze piercing through his soul.

"You don't know shit," he growled before standing up, walking towards Minho. The older held his ground, managing not to show any sign of fear although that was exactly what was flowing through his veins.

"Your name is Jisung, right? You've got all the qualities I've ever dreamed of, you're charming, you make friends easily, you get better grades than me and you're confident, you seem happy all the time, and on top of that, you're hot as hell. You've got girls lining up left and right and," before Minho could even finish his sentence, Jisung grabbed his collar and kissed him.

What was that for? Minho's heart was beating like crazy, he was sure he was going to die. He kissed back, of course, but he could feel his fingers shaking, adrenaline coursing through his whole body sending everything trembling.

"Are you lining up, too?"

All the older did was nod, afraid that if he were to speak his voice would crack or he wouldn't even get any coherent words out.

Jisung passed him a note later in English language and literature class, his number written on it with a pink glitter pen.

Oh how Minho missed those times, classes filled with shy smiles and soft giggles. Maybe his friends said something, called him gay, so Jisung saw it as to prove he was absolutely not gay by calling him names. Minho never dared to call it bullying. He refused to call it that. Because behind closed doors, Jisung treated him like he was an angel.