Chapter Text
If one saw Jisung and Minho throughout their long relationship, one would imagine they would end up getting married. Living the dream life that every couple aspires to. Glued hip to hip, always searching for the other even in the crowded places, hands always interlocked, smiles painted across their faces, fondgazing, and practically reading each other like a book.
It was like they lived in harmony. Their brains and bodies are constantly connected, knowing how the other is going to move and is about to say, and knowing exactly how to react to it. Every little touch, whisper, grab, kiss, and hold was fluid—flowy like the wind in the couple’s hair as the autumn season begins to make its presence. Carefully pushing the hair behind their boyfriend’s ear, pupils widening out of pure admiration for the other, and placing a gentle and innocent kiss on the lips.
Nothing could keep them apart.
Till one takes a look behind the scenes, behind the curtains, behind closed doors.
Minho and Jisung’s relationship was far from perfect. Sure, it wasn’t toxic at all between each other…but they were rather in disharmony rather than the harmonious thoughts and behavior everyone framed them in.
“I miss you so much.” Minho sighs through the phone, watching as Jisung does his night routine on FaceTime. His phone was propped against the bathroom sink, allowing Minho to see him perfectly in frame.
Applying the serums onto his face, Jisung nods his head with a saddened expression. “I miss you so much, too.” He sighs as he begins to rub the products into his skin gently. “I’m so sorry that you couldn’t join me this time…”
Minho shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, my love. If my manager didn’t ask me for all these insane deadlines for the studio, I would be there with you the entire time.”
As a growing artist, Jisung has blown up quite a bit, which has allowed him to travel to different cities inside and outside of Korea. Usually, Minho would tag along during his mini tours, but this time around, the schedules clashed too much. And both have too much on the line to risk missing a day or even a few weeks to support the other in person.
It wasn’t just Minho missing out on Jisung’s live performances, but Jisung also had many moments where he couldn’t attend Minho’s dance competitions, his classes, and even solo performances.
It was as if the universe was forcing them apart because of their passions.
“And don’t worry, once we both make it big in our industries, we won’t have to worry about this and be in control of our own schedules in due time.” Minho continues, trying to uplift Jisung’s clearly down feelings.
Jisung gives a smile and a confident huff from his lips. “Yes!” He begins to clean up his area after finishing his skin routine for the night. “And we can move to Malaysia and live happily ever after.”
There’s a daunting silence in the air.
“Jisung…” Minho speaks low.
Feeling the tension, Jisung grabs his phone off the counter and begins to exit the hotel bathroom back into his main bedroom. He struggles to make eye contact with his boyfriend, keeping his phone low and his eyes straight. “Minho…”
“You know how I feel about that plan…” Minho continues, disappointed that Jisung even tried to push that future agenda onto him again.
Jisung finds comfort in his bed, wearing a matching set of pajamas with Minho, and sighs as he props the phone above his head with his hand. “I know how you feel - and I’m sorry for bringing it up - but I really want to go back to Malaysia.” He turns to the side, not wanting to face him.
“Jisung-ah, I know how much Malaysia means to you… But it is not the best place to be…” Minho takes a deep breath, not wanting to cause an argument over the phone. It was always a rule between them to never deal with issues on the phone. It should always be face-to-face, because that is where the truth comes out the most. No hiding.
“We could overcome it…” Jisung mutters.
Minho scoffs and shakes his head. “Yes, we can make it together. But why would we live in a place that is actively against individuals like us in love, and plus…” He pauses, “... your family is not the biggest fan of me anyway.”
Another big issue for the couple. Living together and family acceptance.
It still feels like yesterday when Jisung brought Minho home. It wasn’t the first time. They knew of Minho; they saw him as a second son. They didn’t know they were dating, nor that their son even was homosexual. Jisung always brought Minho over as “a friend,” but a series of unfortunate events occurred that proved that they were much more than that.
His family was kind, they welcomed him with open arms, and they were very polite and hospitable. It felt like it was his second home, that he could come over like it was his own place, and he would fit right in. It always went fine, it always went well.
One night, it was pouring rain outside. So heavy that the family suggested Minho stay the night so he wouldn’t risk injury or endangerment trying to walk or drive in such weather.
This was like music to both boys’ ears. Your secret boyfriend sleeping over in your room, being able to keep the door closed, and spending even more time together?
What could go wrong?
A lot.
This was the night that Jisung discovered that his parents often check into his room whenever he is asleep. Just to make sure he is okay, that he didn’t sneak out, or to simply look over their beloved son.
It’s the middle of the night. The bedroom door was shut, completely separating the activities that were happening inside the room from the world outside of it.
Thinking they had all night to themselves, of course, Minho and Jisung spent it to the fullest.
Legs wrapped around Minho’s waist, pulling him closer as their tongues twist and turn against each other. Lips firmly pressed together, no space left between them as if they were glued together. Jisung’s arms were pinned against the headboard with only Minho’s single hand holding him in place. The other holds Jisung’s face, gently rubbing his chin as Minho continues to roll his hips and kiss his pretty face all over.
Muffled heavy breaths shared between the two of them, doing their best to keep it quiet, but also let a few noises slip to ensure the other knows that they are doing a good job. Letting the patter of the rain cover their noises, mixing into the sound of nature in the thick of the night.
However, nature decided to take its course.
The same shut bedroom door was soon slowly creaked open. An unassuming figure at the door, creeping closer away from the hallway and into the tense environment of the bedroom. Completely naive to the hidden world they have uncovered. Their innocent plan of checking in on their sleeping son was completely foiled… very quickly.
“Jisung-ah? Are you okay?” His mother speaks with concern in her voice as she struggles to find the light switch.
Realizing their compromised situation and position, Jisung quickly yells out as he searches for his clothes on the bed to cover himself and Minho. But they were not quick enough. “Mom! DON’T turn on the li-”
Their secret relationship is not so secret anymore.
The lights quickly shifted on, revealing the scene before the parent. Her beloved son, completely naked and wrapped up around someone, that someone being his lifelong best friend, who is also completely nude. What a scene to walk into.
The entire rest of the night was a blur. But clear enough for both of them to still haunt them in their dreams. Nonstop raised voices, shameful and disrespectful words, and slurs thrown around. Things were thrown onto the floor and even out of the bedroom door.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Jisung’s father yelled as he watched his second son become a stranger right before his eyes.
Minho, with tears streaming down his cheeks, grabs his bags and shoes off the floor, begins to rush out the bedroom door, and down the stairs towards the front door.
Footsteps are heard behind him, but he doesn’t dare to turn around. But he is forced when a tight grip is felt around his wrist, spinning him around, and meeting them face-to-face. “Jisung-ah…” He speaks with a broken voice.
Tears also streaming down his face, Jisung shakes his head with a frown on his face. “I… am so sorry…” He forces out with a croak.
Minho shakes his head. “It isn’t your fault.”
“Get the fuck away from him!” A bellowing voice is heard on the top of the stairs, making the two flinch.
They quickly break contact, and Minho slowly steps backwards towards the door, not wanting to break eye contact with Jisung. “I-I should go…” He finds the doorknob and begins to turn it.
Hearing the rain only grow heavier behind the door, not having much but a hoodie to cover his head, he shakes at the thought of being out there this late on his own. Minho has never been a huge fan of the rain, or water in general, but Jisung always calmed his nerves. But without him, it is all rushing back to him now.
Jisung whispers. “I’ll come to you soon… just you wait.
That was the last thing he said that night before Minho was forced to exit, and Jisung was pulled away by his parents.
Minho walked home in the rain that night.
Snapping back into current times, seeing Jisung’s hurt expression on the other side of the screen, he just feels even more saddened.
“You haven’t seen your parents ever since you packed your bags overnight and snuck out without a word,” Minho adds, trying to be careful with his words. “You and I have been living together ever since you no longer felt safe at home… why go back to the place that is willing to take me away from you - you away from me?”
Jisung shakes his head. “I-I don’t know… I just… I feel so lost. Like, there is no place I am able to call home. Except when I am with you…”
Minho sighs and unfocuses his eyes as he gets back in his head. “We will find a place to call home, my love. Anywhere you and I are together… we will make it work. Just… not Malaysia… please.” He begs.
Jisung drops it and nods. “Alright.”
All these issues feel like they could be easily solved and avoided. Like the disharmony could be shifted only slightly, and it will find its harmony and groove once more. But it felt as if more kept coming. Like the disharmony was the only state they could live in.
When Jisung and Minho officially started living together, Jisung discovered a new allergy. And it wasn’t any allergy that could be dealt with by avoiding it. It was much more complicated than that.
“No fucking way-” Jisung curses as he looks at his hospital results when he and Minho went to get his allergies tested. For months, he has been nonstop sneezing and flaring up, but they have struggled to determine the issue. Nothing in their environment changed enough to cause such reactions so suddenly.
Minho practically falls to his knees as he reads the newly discovered allergy his boyfriend has. “How the fuck did you develop a cat allergy?!”
Jisung shrugs, panicking as he reads the result over and over, confirming they didn’t miss anything. Maybe they misread it. But, unfortunately, they did not. “This is fucking nuts. We have been living with Soongie, Doongie, and Dori for years now. How did my body suddenly decide to be unable to tolerate their fur?”
“We need to get you meds. I-I can’t get rid of them…” Minho’s voice cracked, almost pleading. Though Jisung never asked him to give up the cats. He would never.
Jisung swallows hard, watching the way Minho’s hands tremble against the crinkled paper of the test results. “I know, hyung. I’d never ask you to,” he whispered, forcing a small smile. “They were yours before me. They’re… part of you.”
But Minho could see through him. He always did. He noticed the way Jisung rubbed at his throat at night, how his voice sometimes went hoarse after only a few hours at home, the way he muffled coughs into his sleeve when he thought Minho wasn’t paying attention.
They tried the medications. Antihistamines, inhalers, sprays—an arsenal stacked up on the kitchen counter like unwelcome guests. And most days, they worked enough. But not always.
Sometimes Jisung’s nose would start running during movie nights, and Minho would pause the film with a heavy sigh. Sometimes Jisung’s chest would tighten in the middle of the night, and Minho would sit awake with him, rubbing circles into his back while Jisung whispered apologies into the dark. Sometimes Jisung would insist he was fine—smiling, laughing—but Minho caught the red rims of his eyes and the soft scratches he left at the base of his throat.
It wore on them both.
Minho loved his cats like family, but he loved Jisung like something even more permanent. And so, one quiet Sunday morning, after watching Jisung rub at his nose while pouring cereal, Minho made a decision.
“I’m taking them to my parents’ place,” he said.
Jisung froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. “…What?”
“They’ll be happy there. Dad already dotes on them whenever he visits, and Mom will probably spoil them rotten.” Minho kept his tone even, but his shoulders hunched like the words were knives. “You’ll breathe easier. And I—I can’t stand watching you hurt.”
Jisung’s throat tightened, though this time it wasn’t from allergies. “Minho… you don’t have to—”
“I do.”
So the apartment grew quieter. Less fur on the couch, less soft padding of paws against the floorboards. Less of Minho’s laughter echoed when the cats did something stupid. Jisung noticed it all, and it pressed against him like guilt.
They visited the cats often—almost every weekend. Jisung would scratch them behind the ears and pretend he didn’t see the way Minho lingered, crouched on the floor, talking to them like old friends he’d abandoned. It kept Jisung’s body safer, sure, but his heart broke knowing Minho had given up pieces of his world for him.
And still, the cracks only spread.
Because the cats weren’t the only difference between them.
It started innocently. Just a quiet walk through the park, the kind of walk couples always dream of. A cool breeze, the sound of laughter nearby. Minho’s gaze lingered on a father kneeling to tie his daughter’s shoe, then lifting her into his arms like the most natural thing in the world.
“I want that someday,” Minho said softly, almost to himself. But Jisung heard it.
His chest tightened. He tried to laugh it off. “You? As a dad? You’d probably be strict as hell.”
Minho smiled, unbothered, already picturing it. “Strict, maybe. But loving. Always.”
The words landed like stones in Jisung’s stomach. He stopped walking, his hand slipping out of Minho’s. “Hyung… I don’t think I could ever… do that. Have kids.”
Minho turned, brows knitting together. “Why not?”
The question cracked something open.
Jisung’s throat went dry. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to hide the trembling. “Because I’d be awful,” he finally forced out. “I’d ruin them. Just like mine ruined me.”
“Don’t say that,” Minho replied instantly, stepping closer, but Jisung shook his head violently.
“You don’t get it.” His voice wavered, raw and desperate. “You didn’t grow up in that house. Every single day, I was reminded that love had limits. That if I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t enough. That affection could be yanked away in a second. That my body, my choices, my future weren’t mine to hold.” His eyes glossed over, unblinking. “They didn’t raise me…they broke me. And every time I think about being a father, I hear them in my head. I see them in me.”
Minho’s lips parted, ready to argue, but Jisung wasn’t done. He was spiraling, finally letting the words he never dared to say tumble out.
“You think I’d be different. But what if I’m not? What if I lose my temper and scream like my father did? What if I give love like my mother did, on conditions, only when it benefits me? What if I… what if I look at my kid one day and they’re afraid of me? How could I live with myself?”
Minho reached for him, cupping his jaw, grounding him. “Jisung-ah, you’re nothing like them.”
But Jisung’s tears finally fell, shaking his head hard. “You don’t know that. I already fail with the cats, hyung. With the simplest things.”
Minho froze.
“I forget to feed them sometimes. I leave the litter box for days because I get caught up in work. I tell myself I’ll play with them after recording, but I fall asleep, and the day is gone. And those are just cats. Just cats. If I can’t give them the care they deserve, how the hell could I raise a baby? A whole human who depends on me to survive?” His voice cracked, turning sharp, desperate.
Jisung continues. “I can’t. I’d kill them. Maybe not with my hands, but in all the ways that matter. In their heart, in their mind. The way mine killed me.”
Silence. Only the faint wind rustling through the trees.
Minho’s own eyes watered, heart breaking in tandem with Jisung’s. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he whispered. “You love deeply. Too deeply, sometimes. That’s why the cats follow you everywhere, even when you forget. That’s why I—” He stopped himself, swallowing thickly. “That’s why I’ve never doubted you for a second.”
But Jisung wasn’t comforted. His arms wrapped around himself like a shield. “That’s because you see the best in me. But kids… they’d see all of me. And I can’t risk passing this… this curse down. I won’t gamble a child’s happiness on the hope that I’m not like them.”
Minho wanted to argue. He wanted to scream that Jisung wasn’t his parents, that he could rewrite the story, that he’d never have to do it alone. But the more he looked at him—eyes red, body trembling, guilt carving into every line of his face—the more Minho realized Jisung believed it down to his bones.
And nothing Minho said could unwrite that fear.
Minho sat with Jisung’s words, holding them in his chest like shards of glass. He wanted to piece them together, make them fit, but every edge cut deeper the more he tried.
He stayed quiet that night, even as they walked home hand in hand. Even as Jisung clung tighter, like he was afraid Minho would slip away if he let go. The topic didn’t resurface for weeks, but it lingered like smoke. In every smile that didn’t quite reach their eyes, in the long silences at dinner, in the way Jisung avoided parks altogether.
One night, sitting across from each other at their small kitchen table, it finally broke.
Minho toyed with his chopsticks, staring at his bowl of untouched food. “Jisung-ah… what if I can’t let go of wanting kids?”
Jisung’s head snapped up. His throat closed before he could form words.
“I’ve tried not to think about it,” Minho continued, voice low and careful. “But I can’t. It’s not just a dream - it’s… It’s part of me. The idea of raising someone, teaching them, and loving them. Passing down all the things I never had. I want it more than I can explain.”
Jisung’s chest constricted, guilt flooding him. “And I can’t give you that.”
The words hung heavy in the room.
Minho reached across the table, finding his hand. “It doesn’t mean I love you less. God, I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone. But this… It’s a wall we can’t climb.” His voice cracked at the end, and he looked down, ashamed of the tears pooling in his eyes.
Jisung bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. “I’m sorry, hyung. I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried to picture it. You're holding a baby, and I'm holding your hand. But every time I do, it turns into my parents. Their voices. Their anger. And I see myself becoming them. I can’t… I can’t risk that. I’d rather hurt you now than ruin a child’s life later.”
Minho squeezed his hand, his own tears falling freely now. “I don’t think you’d ever become them.”
“But I believe I would,” Jisung whispered, and that belief was enough to end them.
For a long time, neither moved. Just two men at a table, knuckles white from holding on so tight.
Finally, Jisung pulled his hand away. “Maybe we need a break.” The words left Jisung’s mouth like poison. His chest seized the moment he heard them aloud, like saying them made it real.
Across the table, Minho shook his head immediately. “No. Don’t say that. We can fix this, Sung.” His hand reached desperately for Jisung’s, clutching it like it was the last rope keeping them from falling. “We’ve gotten through worse. We can get through this, too.”
Jisung’s lip trembled, his tears blurring Minho’s face into something unrecognizable. “Hyung, we’ve tried. God, we’ve tried so hard. We’ve bent and twisted ourselves until there’s nothing left but cracks. You gave up the cats for me, you’ve followed me across the world, you’ve sacrificed pieces of yourself over and over—”
“And I’ll do it again!” Minho snapped, his voice breaking. “Because you’re worth it. Because we’re worth it.”
Silence slammed into the room. Both of them were shaking, neither willing to let go, but both knowing deep down what this meant.
Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, voice trembling. “And what about kids, Minho? Will you sacrifice that dream too? Will you bury it for me, even if it eats you alive inside?”
Minho froze. His throat bobbed, words clawing to the surface but none escaping. Because he knew the answer. He couldn’t.
Jisung saw it in his eyes. And that hurt more than if he’d shouted it aloud.
“I don’t want to take that from you,” Jisung whispered, his whole body folding inward, like he was caving in on himself. “I don’t want to be the reason you resent me one day.”
Minho’s jaw clenched, tears streaking his cheeks. “I could never resent you…” His shoulders drop. “And I don’t want to be the reason you live in fear every day. I don’t want you to force yourself into something you don’t want, just to keep me.”
For a long, agonizing moment, they just stared at each other. Two people clinging to the frayed edges of a love they thought would last forever. If only.
Then Jisung broke. He shoved away from the table and threw himself into Minho’s arms, sobbing into his chest. “I don’t want to lose you, hyung. I can’t.”
Minho crushed him against his body, holding him so tight it hurt. “Then don’t. Don’t let me go. We can figure it out, we can-” His voice cracked into pieces. “Please, don’t let this be the end.”
They stood like that for what felt like hours, rocking back and forth, kissing each other like lifelines, as if enough touches and tears could stitch the broken pieces back together.
But when the storm of desperation passed, what remained was the truth. Their breaths slowed. Their grip loosened. And in the quiet, it hit them both at once. Love wasn’t enough this time.
Jisung pulled back first, cupping Minho’s wet cheeks in shaking hands. “We’re killing ourselves trying to hold on.”
Minho’s shoulders slumped, his forehead pressing to Jisung’s. “Then what do we do?”
“Kill ourselves.” Jisung jokes to cope.
“Oh shut up.” Minho forces out a laugh through his tear-stained cheeks. Sniffling as he wipes his nose, he hits Jisung in the arm.
They both share a laugh. But the tension only falls over them once more. The answer sat heavily between them. Neither wanted to say it again. Neither wanted to let the words exist in the air.
But Jisung whispered anyway, broken and final. “We let go.”
Minho’s sob was silent, his body trembling against Jisung’s. And still, he nodded. Because he knew. Because they both knew.
So they held each other until the sun rose, until their tears ran dry, until their bodies ached from the closeness they knew they’d lose.
The night soon bled into morning, the clock ticking past hours they didn’t feel. Neither slept. They just lay tangled in bed, faces pressed together, exchanging soft kisses between waves of silence and tears. It felt like the last meal before an execution, sweet, desperate, and doomed.
When the light finally slipped through the blinds, Jisung sat up first. His movements were slow and reluctant, as if every muscle was screaming at him to stop. He wiped his face, but his tears returned immediately when he looked at Minho still curled on the couch, hair mussed from Jisung’s fingers, eyes swollen red from crying.
“I should pack,” Jisung whispered.
Minho sat up too quickly, reaching out, grabbing his wrist like a reflex. “Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, raw from hours of pleading. “Please, just stay. Forget everything we said. Just… stay.”
Jisung’s chest collapsed inward. He lowered himself, pressing a kiss to Minho’s temple, lingering there until his lips trembled. “If I stay, we’ll just keep hurting each other. You know that.”
Minho pulled him in for another kiss, then another, and another, mouths colliding through tears, clutching like drowning men. “I don’t care,” Minho breathed against him. “I don’t care if it hurts. I can’t - I can’t lose you.”
Jisung broke into sobs mid-kiss, pulling away with shaking hands framing Minho’s face. “You’ll lose yourself if you stay with me. And I can’t let that happen. Not to you.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Only the sound of their breathing, broken and uneven, filled the room. You could hear a pin drop, and neither would move.
Eventually, Jisung stood. He moved like a ghost, dragging his feet toward the bedroom. Minho didn’t follow at first; he just sat there, staring at the bed where their bodies had been pressed together hours ago, like he could still feel Jisung’s warmth.
When Jisung came back with his bag slung over his shoulder, Minho finally rose. His legs felt foreign beneath him, his chest caving in with every step closer to the door.
They stood facing each other in the narrow entryway. No words. Just tears.
Jisung reached up, brushing Minho’s damp hair from his forehead, memorizing every line of his face. “I’ll always love you,” he whispered, voice breaking on the word always.
Minho’s hands clutched his waist, unwilling to let go. “Then why isn’t that enough?”
Jisung’s heart split. “Because love doesn’t fix everything.”
Minho kissed him one last time, slow, aching, pouring every ounce of his soul into it. Jisung kissed him back like it was the last breath in his lungs. And when they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, both shaking, both knowing this was the end.
“I’ll come back to you someday,” Jisung whispered, though even he didn’t know if it was true.
Minho closed his eyes, his voice cracking. “I’ll wait.”
And then he let go. His hands slipped from Jisung’s waist, falling uselessly at his sides.
Jisung reached for the door, his fingers trembling on the knob. He hesitated, looking back one last time at the man who had been his entire world. Minho stood in the doorway of their living room, arms limp, tears sliding silently down his cheeks, too broken to move.
The door clicked shut.
And Minho collapsed to his knees, sobbing into the empty silence of an apartment that suddenly felt too big, too quiet, and far too lonely.
…
The door closed behind him with a sound that didn’t feel real. It was just a soft click, but to Jisung it felt like thunder, like the whole world cracking open. He stood frozen in the hallway for a moment, his forehead pressed to the wood, his breath catching in his throat. He could hear nothing now—no Minho’s voice, no cats padding across the floor, no laughter that used to fill that apartment—just silence.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. Every part of him screamed to turn the handle again, run back in, throw his bag down, fall to his knees, and beg Minho to forget it all, to just hold him, love him, make it okay. But his body stayed locked in place, because he knew the truth. If he went back in, they’d just break each other again tomorrow.
Step by step, he forced himself down the hall. Each footfall was heavier than the last. By the time he pushed through the building’s front door, the weight in his chest was so unbearable he thought he might collapse.
Outside, the city didn’t care. The sun was already climbing higher, indifferent, spilling light across streets full of people starting their day. Jisung squinted against it, the brightness a cruel contrast to the darkness hollowing him out inside. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, his hands trembling.
He walked. Slowly at first, then faster, like maybe speed would keep the grief from swallowing him whole. His breath came sharp and uneven, catching in his throat until he had to stop at the corner, leaning against a lamppost. His vision blurred with tears, the world bending and warping in front of him.
In his mind, he replayed it all. The cats they never fed on time, the dinners burned and laughed about, the late nights tangled together whispering promises they were too young and too scared to keep. He thought of the way Minho kissed him goodbye, desperate, like it would kill him to let go. Jisung’s hand lifted to his mouth, pressing against lips that still tasted like him.
Go back, a voice inside him begged. Turn around. Run. He’ll take you back. He always will.
But another voice, the colder one, whispered, You’ll ruin him if you do. You’re already ruining him.
Jisung let out a broken sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes as if he could shove the grief back inside. When he dropped it, his tears streaked down his cheeks anyway. People walked past him, not looking twice, not seeing that his entire world had just ended.
So he did the only thing he could, he put one foot in front of the other and kept walking. His shadow stretched long in the morning sun, but behind him, he knew Minho was still on the other side of that door, crumbling in the ruins of the life they built together.
And the worst part, the part that made Jisung’s stomach twist and his lungs burn, was the quiet certainty that no matter how far he walked, he’d never really leave Minho behind.