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“Nothing hurts more than a heart left wondering why.”
- fW
—
“Let’s break up.”
“What?” Jisung paused his show and looked up at the pained expression of his boyfriend.
“Let’s break up.” Minho repeated.
“I heard you.” Jisung said with frustration in his voice, leaning back on the couch and ruffling his hair. He turned to Minho again, running his eyes all over Minho’s face, to make out what he had just said, trying to comprehend, maybe as a joke or something, but nothing, he’s serious, Minho is serious.
Speechless, not knowing what to say and then Jisung sighed.
“Why?” He asked.
“I-“ Minho hesitated. “I’ve falling out of love.”
“Bullshit!” Minho flinched, fingers fiddling with one another, Jisung softened. Not meaning to make Minho flinched or uncomfortable. “I mean, why now? Why are you doing this?” He asked softly this time. He’s hurt so of course his voice sounded harsh. Because out of nowhere Minho confesses he wanted to break up with Jisung.
“Jisung,” Minho hesitates once again, pained in his voice, “the last time we spoke was two weeks ago.”
Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is that my fault?” He asked, because all he had done was give Minho time, space, or whatever the fuck he needed.
Angered and frustrated, blood started to boil as he tried to calm himself back down.
Still standing, Minho awkwardly shook his head.
“I’ve texted, I did everything to try and talk to you, track you down the campus but you rushed past me saying you’re busy, visited your place but was ignored, how is this my fault?”
Guilt flashes alongside Minho’s face but he didn’t feel sorry one bit, which caused Jisung to wince.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” Jisung asked, “Do you know what this means?”
“I- yes.” Minho hesitated but said it with assurance.
Heart racing, Jisung sucked in his breath deeply and then exhaled loudly. “Okay.” He said pushing himself off the couch, walking over to where Minho awkwardly stood before stopping in front of him.
They are now face to face, chest to chest, heavy breathing.
Holding back the pain and the tears, trying to calm his pounding heart, “If this is what you want, Minho hyung, please kindly walk yourself out the door.” Jisung said, voice breaking, before walking away from Minho as he headed toward his bedroom, opening it.
He doesn’t want his time to waste. He was tired, frustrated at least, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. He took one last glance at Minho, who had his head down, eyes glued to the floor, lips trembling, looking like he’s on the verge of tears, before he walked in and closed the door.
His eyes were shut as he leaned against the close door trying not to breathe in loudly before exhaling.
So…this is it…this is over.
He gave it a couple minutes before he heard the front door open and close before he slumped down the door to the ground and put his face on his knees as it came up to his chest, his tears streaming down his face.
Five years. They had been together for five years and now it goes down the drain. Five years wasted just like that.
Heart wrenching as he held onto his chest and he bawled with one arm still wrapping around his knees.
“Fuck!” He screamed into his thighs. “Fuck you, Lee Minho.” He exhales, proceeding to cry again remembering the time Minho once confessed to him.
“I love you, Jisungie.” “You’re so beautiful” “mine, Jisungie, you’re mine.”
Or the time where he was sick and Minho took care of him.
“You’re such a baby, Hannie. What would you do without me?” Minho chuckled softly as he put a wet towel on his forehead. “Die, hyung.”
Or Jisung’s sudden confession to Minho. “Jisungie, who do you like?” Minho asked as he took a sip of his americano. Without thinking he replied, “you, hyung.” Which caused Minho to choke on his drink.
Five years.
Remembering those times as he lifted his head and rested them against the door, lids closed, breath still heavy, tears still falling rapidly, chest hurting.
“Why? Why?!” He cried out. It’s pathetic, he feels pathetic.
“It hurts. It hurts. Please make it stop.” He said out loud to no one specifically.
Of course it hurts. Five years down the fucking drain, feels like he wasted those five years for nothing.
As he opened his eyes, visions blurred as he wiped away the tears. Across from him, staring at him, was a picture of him and Minho.
Minho with his arms hugging him from the back with a huge smile on his face, they look happy, in love, and young.
“Five years, fuck!” He said, rubbing the back of his palms on his eyes, sobbing quietly this time. Nothing hurts more than being disappointed by the one person who you thought would never hurt you.
It hurts so hard.
Forever, forever that ended. Forever that he thought lasted.
He sat there not moving as night began to fall, shadow began to appear. Missed calls from his friends probably heard the news from Minho since they shared a friend group.
But he doesn’t move. For a million different reasons Minho took the best of his heart and left the rest in pieces.
💔
Morning passes, as he wakes. Curled up, knees pressed against his chest, heart still heavy, head still pounding.
It hurts. He wants it to go away. Tears are still falling.
It was done. It was over. Just like that, those five years ended.
He knew good things come to an end. But he never thought his end was going to come so quickly. He thought he could run away from it by trying and trying but all it did was catch up to him and leave him with pieces to pick up.
People can make mistakes. They can learn, they can change. It takes time, he knows it’s too late. Maybe he did something wrong.
If this is what Minho wanted then all he can do is wish him the best. If this is the last time, if this is their goodbye, then he needs to come to terms with himself, to accept it and let it end.
But why does it hurt?
“Gosh, why does it hurt so much.” He cried out, body still curled to himself.
Maybe he was the problem, maybe he was holding Minho back, maybe he brought Minho down. Those thoughts begin to race.
This time there was no one to help him push those thoughts away.
He misses him. Oh fuck, he misses Minho so much.
Missed the way he laughs, missed the way he helps him with his insecurities, miss the way his hands roam against his fragile body, miss the way his lips feel against his, miss the way those soft brown eyes would look at him.
“You are perfect, Jisungie.”
Why did Minho left so easily? How is it so easy for him?
Was it that easy? To get up and leave all those 5 years and counting behind?
Quiet sobs, afternoon lights, dark and dim was the room. Colorless, everything feels frozen, cold room, no warmth compared to once were.
This time he can’t fix it. Can’t fix what they have. Can’t fix what was broken. Can’t fix things that end.
He has to accept it. But why does it hurt?
Now he’s just someone Minho used to love.
No one to save him, no one to love him, no one to drive him crazy, no one to hold on to.
No one to run to.
He felt pained, numb, wasted, torn, tired, frustrated, and used.
💔
Two weeks have passed, and he still hasn't returned his friends' calls, still hasn’t been to work, still hasn’t eaten well, still wasn’t moving where he left, was crouching beside his bed.
He is still there, by his bedside holding on. Holding on to everything that was dead and gone, maybe just maybe, Minho would give him a chance to explain.
He didn’t call, not because he was a coward but he knows it’s no use. What ended, ended.
Jisung is lonely, just sitting there, trying not to fall apart.
But before he knew it he was grabbing his phone, dialing the only number left he knew would run to him.
He let it ring, and let it pick it up.
“Hyung,” he cried into the phone.
“Oh, Jisung,” the voice said with empathy, causing his heart to be more wretched than it already was.
“I need you, hyung.” He spoke, clearly, devastatingly, into the phone.
💔
The worst pain is being homesick for arms that don’t want to hold you anymore. - It aches.