Broken
It (does)n’t happen - intermediate -
Jinki stumbled back, holding his stinging face. He sent wide eyes back to his friend, confused at how the fight had gotten this far. He was more surprised when Minho spoke again.
“Don’t you want to hit me?” His tone was harsh, low. “Why don’t you hit me back?” Minho asked, stepping closer to Jinki. “You can fight. Hit me.”
He chewed his lips, watching big eyes narrow further - angry and he wasn’t really sure why.
Why?
Why should he hit him? Why was his friend even fighting with him in the first place?
Jinki’s fists dropped to his sides, clenching. He tensed slightly, but once Minho used words against him in the cheapest way possible, it was like everything stopped a moment. Time froze. Snapped.
“You know, I’ll never love you back. I’m not like you, .”
Jinki was actually on top of Minho by the time he realized what he was doing. Rage blinded him to this point and now Minho was laying on Jinki’s living room floor while Jinki’s fist slammed into Minho’s face again, voice shouting words he couldn’t comprehend. He lashed out in a manner he had never before, rage possibly at level he’d never experienced before. Right now, something else needed to hurt instead of him. He was tired of hurting and it felt good to finally lash out at the younger in this way. Speak with his fists instead of words that just didn’t seem to work. It was horrible. It felt good. He was horrible.
Jinki leaned back finally, still sitting over Minho, whole body shaking, breath ragged. Minho turned his head back, eyes softened and a grin tugging at his lips. Blood trickled from his nose and his voice was a hoarse whisper, “Thank you.”
Jinki breathed louder, eyes widening. He spoke before he could even think. “Wha.. Why?”
Minho laughed a little, Jinki feeling his body moving with the jerks of it. He saw then how everything was a setup, a means to get Jinki to snap and fight back, Minho not putting up a fight then.
It worked.
Minho was bloody, laughing quietly in a hysterical manner under him. Eyes watered, darting to make contact with Jinki’s again. “I’m sorry,” Minho’s voice broke, “I didn’t mean.. I’m sorry. I needed it.”
Jinki blinked, still confused and coming off his adrenaline high. “Minho..” He raised shaking hands, unsure of what to do now.
His friend laughed more, hands soon covering his face as his laughter grew louder. Jinki shifted around, struggling to pull Minho up to sit and wrap trembling arms around him in a hug. Jinki whispered, “I don’t want to fight you.”
Minho kept laughing and Jinki had to wonder how much sleep his friend had had the last few nights. Maybe none at all.
The mess from the fight was cleaned up by the time Jinki’s mother arrived home. When she sweetly greeted Minho, Jinki watched his friend keep his head low, hiding a swelling face with a deep bow.
It was a pointless fight they had. One Jinki wouldn’t understand, even months later. Minho never told him why it happened, why he said what he did.
Jinki later forgot about it – it blurring in with Minho’s at times erratic behavior.
Or maybe he just wanted to forget.
It met him in dreams though, whispered to him. Nightmares of a broken friendship.
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Sorry, been losing motivation on this again so little has been done regarding the story lately.
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