hold me ♡ minsung

42. explaining it, in full, to sung

♡

FEBRUARY  16

   "...I want to tell you, Jisung. Why I'm like this." Minho felt he deserved to know.

   It had been nearly a week since his eye-opening (or, rather, mind-opening) conversation with Chan. Now, he was moments away from another frighteningly vulnerable conversation.

   When Minho showed up at his door, nervously clenching his fists as he delivered that surprising statement, Jisung was stunned, and with big eyes, he waited for Minho's words, immediately listening attentively.

   And... Felix was in the room with him at the time. Minho had seen a glimpse of his faded red hair almost immediately when Jisung opened the door. (And when he glanced over now, Felix also looked surprised, but he seemed more confused than anything.)

   Minho never would have said such a thing to Jisung with anyone else around to hear before that talk with Chan. With everyone but Jisung (and now Chan), he liked to pretend that nothing was obviously wrong with him. He never wanted to acknowledge, despite the fact that everyone could see, that he was a mess... But things were different now. For now. At least. Maybe (hopefully?) indefinitely.

   Of course, that didn't mean he was ready to have any sort of deep, revealing conversation in front of anyone who wasn't Jisung or Chan yet, but... y'know... baby steps.

(Chan did say he should go at his own pace, after all.)

   Jisung stood by the door, so he was close enough to hear when Minho lowered his voice to say, "Can we go somewhere...? I want us to be... alone." A shudder came through in Minho's voice, and it was clearly because he was remembering the last time they'd had an important conversation in one of these dorm rooms, and how it had ended.

   Jisung nodded. "Let's go."

   Minho followed him outside into the dark, not stopping to ask where he intended to go. 

   Jisung brought them to that same bench. The one they'd sat on about two weeks ago, talking to each other as if for the first time, holding hot chocolate with flurries falling down on them. When he sat down, on the end of the bench opposite Jisung, he drew in a shaky breath and got ready to spew out whatever he could— whatever he knew— about the process he'd put himself through that had turned him into the mess he now was. There was still a lot about his childhood that he felt he hadn't quite grasped yet, but he'd attempt to tell Jisung what he'd figured out (assuming his body would let him after being trained to resist such things for so many years). 

   Why? 

   Because now, Minho honestly wanted to try to change— not the same way he had a few weeks ago. Back then, he'd only been concerned with finding a way to go on keeping to himself like he'd always wanted to... and this time, he wanted to know what it was like to... maybe... be close to people (however one did that), as strange and wrong as it sounded to him. Just because... if he didn't try now, he probably never would, and he'd end up dying all alone, which, he felt like (but didn't truly know anymore) was not his original plan when he initially started to distance himself from everyone. It wasn't supposed to be permanent. 

   In short, Minho thought, he was now actually "trying", the  way Jisung had asked him to weeks ago. And he felt like Jisung should know that. 

   "I... I told you, I'm not traumatized. I didn't grow up with abusive drunkards like Hyunjin and I didn't grow up on the streets as an orphan like Jeongin. Literally nothing happened to me..."