among us | minsung

lee minho: task five

Profiles (1,380,049 files)

[ Profile: Lee Minho ]

➤ Basic Information
    | Age: 21
    | Birthday: October 25th, 1998
    | Assigned Color: Lime
    | Generation: Third Wave
    | Children: None

➤ Games Won: 365
    | Game 1, duration 24:53
    | Game 2, duration 15:21
    | Game 3, duration 12:35
View 362 Other Games...

[ PROFILE DISCONTINUED ]

[ Commencing the destruction of PDP.file... ]

- Deleting 1,380,049 profiles...
- Deleting 1,295 games...
- Deleting 24 tasks...

POPULATION DECREASING PROGRAM PERMANENTLY ERASED.

Seven went into the games, and hours later, four walked out. Mrs. Kim screamed when Seungmin fell into her arms and told her about Jeongin, smearing the purple paint beneath her eyelids. Hyunjin, Jisung knew, had nobody on the outside. Felix was his best friend, and Felix was dead. Chan was nowhere to be seen, Hyunjin hated him, and his sister was dead. He lost everything in the games. Jisung wanted to hug him, to show him that despite everything that happened, he wasn't alone. But Hyunjin stared at him with such hatred that Jisung cowered like a dog, tucking his tail and hiding behind Minho.

Of all the people on the Beyond, Jisung regretted meeting Lee Minho the most. He promised himself he would never, ever, under any circumstances associate with Minho when he joined the games. Minho would kill him without blinking, and Jisung was determined to live. He needed to live for Yuhae. For his daughter who didn't. For Yeji, with her almond eyes and pretty smile that made Jisung's heart flutter. Somewhere between Task One and Five, the line between survival and morality blurred, and Jisung was holding the hand that murdered two people. The worst part was that he didn't want to let go.

An hour after the abolishment of the PDP found Minho sitting at a creaky table in the cafeteria surrounded by players. All around them, people celebrated the end of the system that caused them pain for so many years, but they felt isolated in their bubble. Why, they asked themselves, was it them that ended the games? Why not the group that came before filled with 13-year-olds? The one where a 13-year-old girl murdered all her classmates to win as Imposter and spent the rest of the week locked in her room until her mother finally opened the door. Why didn't the suicide of a child open their eyes? Why did Jeongin have to die? Or Felix? Or Changbin? Why? Why? Why?

They would drive themselves crazy trying to figure out why, so they resorted to tense silence. Nobody except for Jisung and Minho knew who the Impostor was, and Jisung could see Seungmin itching to find out. His fingers twitched against the soft material of his sweatpants and he was hyper analyzing every movement. It was so very Seungmin of him that Jisung felt relieved. Pieces of Seungmin left with Jeongin, but that was the beauty of a puzzle. It didn't need all the pieces to show the whole picture.

Chan shattered the Imposter mystery with his presence as he slammed Minho to the ground and brought a fist straight into his nose. The crack made Jisung flinch, and he scrambled away from the table.

"That was for Felix," Chan hissed, and the veins on his neck protruded towards the pale skin. Blood was staining the floor by Minho's head, cascading in rivulets from his nose. "And this is for Changbin." Chan lifted Minho's torso inches off the ground and slammed him back down. Minho's eyes rolled, and Jisung screamed, running to push Chan off. But Chan was sturdy and mad. All of Jisung's body weight wasn't enough to stop him, and none of the other players cared to help. Why would they really? It almost seemed deserved that the murderer got murdered.

"Felix wouldn't want that!" Jisung yelled at Chan, still pulling weakly at his shirt. "Felix would never want you to hurt someone on his behalf, so don't you dare say you're doing this for Felix!" Chan froze, turning his attention to Jisung long enough for Minho to slip from beneath him. "Admit it, Chan. You're doing this for yourself. Whatever, who cares. But don't be a fucking coward and use Felix's name as a cover for your own violence."

The entire cafeteria was watching them, and nobody stepped in to help Minho. He was leaning against an empty table for support, bleeding all over the floor, and nobody cared. How was that any better than what Minho did? Minho walked back towards them on shaky legs, grabbing Jisung's hand for stability. It was warm and sticky from blood, but Jisung didn't mind, not when Minho was seconds away from passing out.

Chan looked up at him from where he collapsed on the floor, anger seeping from his bones and melting into the floor. It left behind an empty, broken shell of a man.

"I'm sorry," was all Minho said, and only Minho knew what he was apologizing for.

The cafeteria resumed it's feast now that the dramatics faded, and Minho pulled him away from the crowd and into the hallway by his hand. A few people gave them strange looks as they passed, probably because of the blood covering every inch of Minho's clothing, but didn't comment. Jisung would have really lost it if they said anything, so for once in his life, he was grateful for the silence. When the hallway was vacant of all life besides them, Minho spoke.

"Jisung," he said, placing his free hand on Jisung's cheek and stroking the smooth skin beneath his eyes. "It's time to let go, little sparrow."

Jisung shook his head frantically and grabbed the hand on his cheek. The blurred lines weren't cleared, not after the game ended nor when the PDP was abolished. He had to remind himself that he was safe now. Minho no longer had leverage over him or a knife to his throat. He could run into Mrs. Kim's arms and forget everything that happened in the arena. Until Seungmin mentioned Jeongin and he saw the way his best friend fell apart from Minho's doing. Until he saw Chan in the halls, alone, without his best friend and Felix. Pretty Felix with the smile that charmed all the cafeteria workers and the freckles bestowed upon him by the Sun itself. And then moments later, Jisung would see Minho's face, holding a bloodied knife, and Felix's acceptance. No matter what Jisung tried to convince himself of, Minho integrated into Jisung's very being.

There was nothing he could do that wouldn't remind him of Minho. The only untouched memory in his mind was Yuhae, his beautiful daughter, but even then, Minho knew about her. Not her name, or that she was dead, but he knew she existed. So Jisung shook his head faster and cried, tears rolling over Minho's bloody fingers.

Minho shushed him softly. "Jisungie, my love, don't cry. It's all over, yeah? You can go. It's okay. I want you to be happy, far, far away from me. Can you do that for me?"

"I can't, Minho. I can't."

"Yes, you can. Do you see them all, staring at us?" Minho gently turned Jisung's head towards the crowd of people beyond the cafeteria doors. They glared at Minho, cursed his name with their eyes and damned him with their lips. And Minho took it. He didn't defend himself. Of all the things Minho ever did, Jisung had never heard him defend himself. "They hate me, but they don't hate you, not yet. There's still time for you, Jisung. Your daughter needs you. I killed their children, their family, their friends. But you, you're too precious for this world. You're too precious to love someone like me."

Jisung wanted to scream at Minho, hit him until his brain hurt and he finally accepted that he was still human. Underneath the cold exterior, he had a beating heart, and Jisung knew that. The Beyond turned Minho's image into an emotionless robot killer, but that wasn't the truth. The truth was that Minho cared so fucking much, but the only people who saw that died before they could say it. There were cracks in his facade. Tiny, almost invisible moments that showed the world who Lee Minho was, and no one bothered to look deeper.

Lee Minho was a player in the game, and it infuriated Jisung that the people hated Minho when they should hate the game.

"Minho? Before I let go, can I tell you a story?"

Minho smiled, brushing the last tears away from Jisung's cheeks. "You could tell me you hate me and I'd love you all the same."

Jisung hugged Minho's torso and buried his face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. Like this, Jisung felt protected enough to say the words he spent years denying, but softly, just for Minho to hear. He took a deep breath and began his story.

"When I turned thirteen, my parents brought me to this place called the Bunker..."

[ end. ]