Chapter Text
Jisung's shoulders weigh down from the heavy fatigue that seeps deep into his bones, sometimes Jisung marvels at the fact that his bones are still intact.
5:30 pm.
The persistent ringing of his head is accompanied by the rather irritating sound of his boss yelling at him.
I am tired.
"Jisung-ah—
(What gave you the right to call out my name so familiarly? Talk about manipulation.)
How many times have we gone over this?"
I want to go home.
"I understand that you're under a lot of pressure-" No, you don't understand.
I want to go home.
Home.
The tips of his nails graved into his palm allow Jisung adequate strength to hold up the charade that he's listening. He parrots out a series of "Yes, I understand." Before finally enjoying the silence that follows the moment his boss exits the room.
Jisung wants to go home. Not quite the dark empty rooms made of bricks.
There's a malicious grip of monotony suffocating Jisung all the time. All his life has gone by Jisung orchestrating the model son, the perfect student and the employee of the year. Whispers of envy linger behind Jisung. The suffocating admiration of others forces Jisung further into the mud.
Is this all life is meant to be? Is life just these ripples of fatigue and monotony that are unwilling to ever settle?
Perhaps faith is a blessing not many realize. Jisung thirsts for the frenzy with which the pastor at the church preaches his belief. He chases the desperation with which the trembling voice of a sinner begs for forgiveness. The chase is endless. Jisng often ponders over the memory of the man from his old neighbourhood. That man truly baffles Jisung. A man so torn down by the grief life had smashed onto him.
And yet— Jisung easily recalls the words that awakened something ugly in the depth of his numb soul— A gluttonous envy.
"It is By God's grace that I'm still alive today."
God's Grace? The same God who so mercilessly snatched your wife away and your child that was denied the chance to even experience your warmth? By the same God whose so called kindness was to save you from drowning? If God really is so merciful and benevolent, why had he allowed you to sink into the ravenous mouth of the ocean in the first place? The ocean isn't kind. It's not in her nature.
Perhaps God created the ocean in his image.
It is ruthless.
Jisung's search for a God reached it's conclusion the day he learned, death by your own hands seals you to a cruel fate of experiencing hell.
Contradiction glued itself to Jisung, hands raised in prayer for a friend lost to addiction. Punish me in his stead. I know you despise being told what to do. After all, how dare a mere mortal convet something from you?
Jisung's clasped hands trembled as he sat there on his knees. The sarcasm dissolved into a poison Jisung had readily swallowed to endlessly murmur his continuous prayer.
o'The mercies of all, the occupier of the lands and the seven skies.
Do not punish my friend. He was but a mere struggling fellow .
Punish me in his stead.
Jisung forces himself to zero onto the present, his eyes numbly laser onto his distorted image reflected onto the mug loosely held between his trembling hands.
God, (ironic huh?) I look like a mess.
"Excuse me, could you please help me out with this?"
The practiced smile plasters onto Jisung's flesh.
"Of course, what do you need help with?"
I am tired.
Employment be damned.
By the time jisung escapes the clutches of the catastrophic office, only silence follows the crunch sound of his footsteps on the unpaved road.
Jisung squints at the bright screen of his mobile.
11:00 pm.
Another day of rotting under the tedious work. Overworking his body to bits does little in making Jisung feel useful. The burning passion of an ambition has never once grazed Jisung. He's just been steadily toppling one task after the other. Exams, grades, assignments, university, and lending a decent job that pays well. It's a pretty comfortable cage built by his own hands. The key must be the lump stuck in Jisung's throat or perhaps it is the misery inducing exhaustion that holds Jisung a prisoner.
Jisung's scrolling on the screen abruptly halts. His senses latch onto the subtle howling of the wind, the steady rhythm of his own footsteps and the pricking feeling of being watched.
Jisung stops.
The sound of footsteps fade away.
This particular street to his home is rather lonely at this moment. What a coincidence. This timing just 'so happens' to be favourable to the person following him. A situation perfectly crafted for his murder, Jisung muses. Who would want him dead? Jisung has never experienced a close friendship. It immediately puts grudges out of the reasons. Jealousy? Maybe. After a long moment of standing still. Jisung glances into the darkness one last time before continuing his walk home.
Jisung by the lackluster mercy of fate safely reaches home that night.
The apartment Jisung's renting is quite spacious. From the cozy kitchen to the living room warm with cute decorations and the soft plush bed. Everything in this apartment is so precisely to his taste that it ticks Jisung off sometimes.
Initially Jisung was rather skeptical about this luxurious place being so easy to rent. Everything seemed to point to a potential scam considering his luck.
Give or take.
Jisung decided he might as well accept this golden opportunity.
His shoulders ache from the fatigue encored to him. The moment Jisung's heavy feet carry him to his bed, he melts into a peaceful slumber.
___
The sky smiles down at the merry harmony of the birds nestled into the cradling embrace of the enormous trees. The lazy clouds flow along the guidance of the strong wind.
The golden lavish grass announces it's joy with the pleasant fragrance—
Wait. Grass?!
Jisung startles himself into consciousness.
Beneath him lays the familiar mattress of his bed. For a moment, Jisung tricks himself into thinking that everything is normal. Unfortunately, it proves to be a difficult task to ignore the wind assaulting his face almost as though it's been tasked to coax him out of slumber. Jisung finds himself strangely sluggish. His consciousness is clearer than it's ever been. He suspects that the fatigue eroding his bone must have been purified by the atmosphere he's in.
And yet, for whatever reason Jisung's eyes refuse to budge open. All of his senses have levelled up in courtesy of his lack of sight. Jisung with his struggling eyelids attempts to sit up.
The ticklish chuckle unnaturally close to his ear freezes Jisung in his track.
"Stay." The amused voice instructs. Only then does Jisung register the hand pressing lazily on his tummy.
"Baby, Don't move. Yeah? Hyung doesn't want you to get hurt."
What. The. Fuck.
Hyung???? Is this some sort of sick wet dream?
Jisung is flabbergasted beyond measure. The only possible explanation that his flustered brain conjures up is that this must be a dream. Jisung has stayed single for too long. His desperation has reached new levels today considering he's dreaming of this roleplay at his age. Acting like a teenager with raging hormones.
Jisung wants to applaud his rich imagination.
"This is not a dream, silly."
Jisung cringes as the random pleasant voice calls him out. This is his worst nightmare debuting into reality— no, this isn't real— Having his thoughts read.
"Oh great, you can even read my thoughts?" Jisung grumbles out loud, unimpressed.
"Of course, I can. Our fates were woven together." The amused voice narrates patiently. "Each thump of your heart resides in the shallowness of my own chest."
Jisung shudders.
He sounds insane.
His body is ready to bolt yet there's an invisible force binding him in place. The lack of sight coupled with the immobility has Jisung feeling vulnerable in a way he doesn't appreciate.
"Who are y-"
Jisung's breath hitches. His question falling short at the unfamiliar press of soft lips on his eyelids.
"Shh, I can't explain anything right now."
Jisung's ears burn at the alluring whisper and the constant mellow touches grazing him. Each touch delicately placed. His body shows no resistance to the hand lovingly massaging his head. All fright evaporates as Jisung melts into a puddle. He dazedly entertains the idea of being a poor sailor willingly trapped between the palms of a siren.
"Silly Jisungie, Hyung will come to give you a gift soon."
With a fleeting kiss against his temple, Jisung finds his consciousness withering.
"Wait! Don't go—" Jisung spits out panicked his hands fumbling to hold onto the mysterious source of voice.
Despite his efforts, Jisung is consumed by darkness. His hand falling limb.
____
"Sung? What's wrong?"
Felix's exclaim kindly untangles Jisung from his thoughts.
"Mm, I'm just sleepy." Jisung forces out the mumbled words burrowing his face deeper into Felix's shoulder.
That odd and absurd dream continues to haunt the trajectory of Jisung's mundane routine. The warm touches embroidered on his skin, he swears he feels the ghost of them every night. "Lix, I think my house is haunted." Jisung declares disturbing the comfortable silence surrounding them.
The steady motion of the pen in Felix's hand halts, putting an end to his quest of writing down notes about his bakery. Jisung envies Felix's for his bravery not only in pursuing his passion but also excelling in it.
"Hmm? Did you watch another horror movie alone?"
Jisung groans unable to confess about his "wet dreams" to his friend.
"I think I have lost my damn mind.."
Jisung walks home that night with the company of freshly baked brownies and Felix's pity- filled words 'The overworking finally got to you, huh. Tsk tsk, you really need a break.'
Break.
The idea is almost laughable to Jisung, a break from what exactly? The ever so cruel reality Jisung has bound himself to or the grief of mourning a reality that never ceased to exist?
"You're so cruel." Jisung chews out the resentment directed towards the sky. The sky remains cruelly silent. He has no evidence or proof that there truly is God out there listening to Jisung's hate fuelled complaints. What is a mortal's complain to a God anyway? Humans are truly intriguing creatures. Whether in desperation or despair they create Gods and bestow them their worship. It's easy to blame a higher being out there than it is to acknowledge the crushing weight of your own actions.
"So cruel," Jisung shrinks into himself as the wind carries away his whisper.
____
A Weightlessness holds Jisung's senses captive.
His current state of being blessed with a queer gleeful freedom. Jisung's floating, limbs set loose without a care. A bone chilling numbness tears it's way into his chest.
It settles in then, the inexplicable scratching at the interior of his chest cradling a beating heart. The nails shyly follow the gait of a lover as if to map out the veins adoring Jisung's heart. Panic, Jisung's rational mind distantly whispers to struggle, fight, do something! His fingers twitch slightly.
Struggle? For what? Why should I? I am tired. There's no point in surviving when there's nothing waiting for me.
Jisung allows himself to drown.
Cold fingers grasp onto his wrist yanking him forward, Jisung eyes startle open at the sudden disturbance in the silence of the sea. His eyelashes flutter against the palm obscuring his view.
"Not yet," a chiding voice echoes underrated by the dense water trying to envelope it whole, "Just hold on for a little longer."
Jisung recognizes this voice better than he knows his own now. He has come to anticipate the fondness of it coupled with the tender touches that tickle his soul.
Who are you? Why won't you let me see you? Why do you talk to me like that? Why is your touch so careful as if I'm something precious?
No answer is supplied to him.
Soft gentle lips press between the space of Jisung's eyebrows attempting to smooth out the crease that's trying to make it's home there.
"Just for a little longer."
_____
Another day dreads on. More meetings, more people, more words that taste rotten on Jisung's tongue.
10:00 pm.
The cool breeze mercilessly clashes against Jisung's concerning boiling temperature. He can't afford a fever right now, he has an important meeting and an upcoming business t—
Ding!
The unexpected sound of notification halts Jisung's train of thought. His phone's initially blank screen glimpse opens.
He stares at the notification. 'Happy birthday Han_Ji! Look back onto the previous year—'
Jisung stuffs his phone back into his pocket.
Right. It's Jisung's birthday today.
Jisung glances at the puddle below his feet. The distorted image of his pathetic face stares right back at him.
___
The noise of the key twisting the lock open disturbs the sublime silence surrounding Jisung. The door opens with a click. Jisung winces at the bright light that greets his eyes Did I forget to turn the lights off this morning?The electricity bill is going to come after Jisung's throat. With a monotonous gait, Jisung clumsily shrugs off his shoes before stepping into the unusually bright living room.
His breathing picks up at the sound of a joyful humming and several other noises that shouldn't have manifested into existence because Jisung lives alone. There is someone in the kitchen! The panic surges up from somewhere deep inside the rotten soul of Jisung and a voice mockingly echoes, You're scared right now? Despite it all you still want to live, don't you? Jisung ignores the muddle of thoughts battling eachother. He needs to do something, he needs to call the police. He needs to run— Heneedstorunrunrunrunheneeds—
"Ah? Honey, you are finally home! I have been waiting for so long, dinner's almost ready." A sweet and cotton-like voice chirps uncaring of the mess and confusion binding Jisung at the moment. Jisung manually forces his saliva down his parched throat. He pinches his arm once, twice and thrice yet the stunning man wearing a cute pink apron(that Jisung doesn't even remember ever owning) stays unmoving smiling.
"Huh..?" Jisung blurts out dumbly. Has he been lonely for too long? Is that why he keeps hallucinating sick fantasies with that specific voice alone? For weeks, this mysterious voice has been haunting Jisung's dreams. He finds himself momentarily stunned now that he is suddenly allowed to see the owner of that voice. Fluffy blonde hair that soften into the sharp line of a perfectly sculptured nose What a climb-ish nose? Jisung entertains that weird thought for a few seconds and is startled when that very nose is pressed against his cheek without a warning, "Oh dear, you are burning up."
Things are happening too fast and Jisung's tired brain isn't processing things as quickly as it should. Maybe that's why Jisung allows himself to be manhandled by a stranger-not-stranger (If talking in dreams can be considered being familiar with eachother?) Jisung blinks and suddenly he is sitting at the dinning table, munching down on the best fucking food of his life. Jisung engrosses himself into stuffing his cheeks with food.
"You are like a squirrel storing food."
At that amused comment, Jisung finally remembers that he isn't alone. He stares back at Minho forcing himself to swallow his food quickly. "So, you are Minho?" Jisung tries his best to not gawk at Minho. Why have I been hearing your voice in my dreams? Are you even real? A series of questions are trapped in his throat but he dares not say them out loud because Felix's texts are proof that Minho infact is real and Jisung isn't having an episode out of sheer exhaustion.
Me
Did yu
Did you really just send
a random man
infomghoyseeitoupermissuoj
(into my house)
Sunshine:
Yes, I did
He can protect you!
He's into boxing
I thought he might help
With your paranoia
Me:
.....
But you should have
at least talked to me about it
Sunshine:
Huh?
Of course I did!
And you said yes!!!!
Why else would I send
Minho-hyung to your house?
Me:
wut?
Jisung is then slapped onto the face by the living screenshot of a conversation he doesn't remember ever having. He stares blankly at the screen. Great, now even his phone is haunted? Jisung groans too exhausted to get to the bottom of this. Either way, he wants to observe Minho anyway. Too many strange things in his life seem to link back to this mysterious man. Jisung sneaks a glance and thus jumps at the little distance between him and Minho. He's so close, Jisung can feel his breath wash over him.
"You're burning up, I think you have a fever." Jisung blinks languidly. Oh, Minho's hand against his heated forehead feels like the first taste of heaven and Jisung's eyes flutter close as he instinctively nuzzles the cold palm providing him comfort.
"Mm.. this feels nice." Jisung mumbles suddenly light-headed. Minho's palm feels addictive there's a weird coldness to it that seems to be whispering to Jisung's soul to come closer. Jisung allows himself to be devoured by that sweet temptation as he melts into the arms cradling him.
This is really nice. I wish it would last longer.
_____
Jisung wakes up dazed. His body feels lighter than ever and the fatigue that usually clings to him is nowhere to be found. The first thing that catches his attention is the shirt on his body. This is definitely not his shirt. The second and most mortifying thing is the arm tightly wrapped around his waist— why is Minho using him as a cuddle pillow? No more importantly why are they even sleeping in the same bed?
Jisung wants to wiggle away and go back to his room. Alas, Minho smells so nice and his body temperature radiates a soothing feeling as though designed to tempt Jisung back into slumber. His eyes flutter close against his will.
The second time Jisung awakes he's alone.
He sits up reluctantly squinting at the darkness surrounding him. Did he hallucinate everything that transpired last night? God, Jisung desperately needs to seek out a psychiatrist—
"Oh? You're finally awake."
Jisung almost squeals at the sight waiting for him. A shirtless Minho!! Oh my god??? Jisung gulps, he tries not to act like a pervert but his eyes involuntarily follow the trail of skin, the sunlight kisses Minho's skin like a tender lover magnifying the beauty of each muscle. Minho's hair has a glowing halo around it and for a moment Jisung thinks he's standing before God.
Then Minho smirks.
He smirks.
Jisung crawls back inside the blanket vowing to never come out.
"Pfft—" Minho cackles out loud staring at the lump under the blanket. His feet silently paddle on the floor guiding him to the bed. "It's okay, you can stare all you want. I don't mind, if you want I can even pose for you." Minho declares nonchalantly, he sits next to the Jisung-shaped blanket and lightly pokes it with his finger.
"Hm? Jisung-ah? Do you want me to pose for you hmm?"
"Go away!"
_____
To sincerely apologize for his insolent behaviour, Minho cooks breakfast. Jisung sits on the counter supervising him. He's mortified by Minho's behaviour. Jisung has never seen anyone act so brazenly to a stranger they just met last night? It's almost as though they have been buddies since birth considering Jisung's sitting here wearing Minho's shirt and watching him cook.
It's weird.
Everything about Minho is weird and mysterious. Just one night alone with Minho has been more eventful than Jisung's whole monotonous life. The exhaustion that usually tears him from inside out has left on a vacation. Relaxed. Jisung hasn't felt this sense of peace in so long that he ignores his instincts that are constantly telling him to be wary of the man cooking beside him. Jisung doesn't trust Minho, he still remembers the weird dreams.
However...
The food Minho cooks is too good to pass on! Jisung will worry about everything else after eating. Just as Jisung's drooling over the thought of eating, Minho's voice interrupts his daydream.
"I bought a cake for you last night."
Jisung blinks, "Ah? Why?"
Minho laughs and tilts his body to the side to poke Jisung's forehead, "Is this thing even on?" Jisung frowns and before he can even complain, Minho continues to speak. "To celebrate your birthday silly."
oh.
"Unfortunately your fever got in the way." Minho turns off the stove and only then does Jisung realize that he made porridge. "For now just focus on recovering, Jisung-ah. Hyung will take care of everything." Jisung shivers at the look in Minho's eyes.
Well, fuck.
_____