REAPER || minsung ✔︎

20

It had been a week since the incident, a week since Jisung had the shock of his life, a week since Jisung had spoken. To Minho, that was.

After Minho had taken him to his home, not trusting him enough to take care of himself, all he did was stare at the wall, his eyes glossy and face blank. Seated on the floor in front of the couch, the food Minho would bring in every day had been untouched, except for the small necessities he needed to keep his heart beating.

It broke his heart to see Jisung in such state; so weak, so vulnerable, so lifeless.

His once sparkling eyes were sunken and dull and tired, his skin was sickeningly pale like a corpse, his hair sticking in every direction. A shim, that's what he was, a shim of the person he used to be, just sitting there as the hours ticked by.

Every now and then he'd nod off to sleep - there was no way that position could be comfortable.

Minho would go over once in a while to check his breathing and pulse, wishing that once he woke up he'd get the Jisung he knew back.

But every time Jisung would just sit and stare and Minho's heart grew more helpless and heavy with every passing second, desperate to at least hear the other's voice. Even if Jisung would curse him out and scream at him to leave, he'd be satisfied.

"Jisung," Minho called, tone wretched and quivering, "you don't have to be alright, but please, talk to me or someone at least."

No reply ever came. Truth be told, with every silence filled answer Minho's hope deflated little by little. Even so, he couldn't give up and he wasn't planning to.

"Should I get Felix?" he tried again, sliding down next to Jisung, the color already faded. "I think he'd like to know where you are. With the amount of texts and calls, I'm pretty sure he already reported you missing."

The stillness was heavy, crushing Minho's shoulders as it collapsed on him, he couldn't hold it anymore, not alone. However, he couldn't crumble for Jisung's sake, he'd have to keep himself together.

The pair continued to sit on the floor, only their soft breathing gracing the air. Ten minutes turned into thirty, thirty to an hour and so on.

"I shouldn't have brought you along," Minho said, mostly to himself. "This is my fault, so please be mad at me, yell at me, punch me in the face. I deserve that if nothing else."

Then, after an eternity, sniffles broke the silence, soft and suppressed.

"I could never be mad at you," Jisung whispered, voice hoarse and raspy due to the lack of use. "At first I did blame it on you, but maybe you should let me go."

"Don't say things like that," Minho pleaded, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're scaring me."

"You shouldn't fight a force you can't defeat," Jisung continued, the words falling deaf on his ears, as if they were never spoken. "Death comes for all of us and it seems my time is now, so let me go."

"No!" Minho was quick to throw back. "Don't be like this, you have so many things to live for and I can't take you from your family and friends-"

"Don't you see it, Minho?!" Jisung glared at him and harshly pushed his hand away. "Are you really that dense?!"

"Jisung, listen-"

"No, you listen to me!" he seethed on, hot tears flowing down his cheeks. "Can't you see it?! I'm the one who killed you!"

Inside his head a headache blew up. The voice got louder again. It sneered all words he didn't know were true or not. It battled for control, but Jisung - a lifelong internal brooder - wasn't that easy to crack. He looked at Minho, the whispers only a background noise to him.