Hurt
It (does)n’t happen - intermediate -
Minseok yanked Minho back from the scene, scowling. “You can’t do that.”
Minho dragged his feet, huffing with clenched fists and a numbing face that was slowly starting to throb. “He deserved it.” Minho said, not feeling sorry about getting into a fight with a fellow game-watcher. Minho didn’t like the man’s mouthing off and when he commenting on his brother, Minho snapped and successfully er-punched the older man. But that only turned into a pathetic fistfight, and with Minho managing to get hit more than land many more punches on the guy.
Still, Minho fought like it actually mattered. He snapped and everything told him it was kill or be killed. That is, until the crowd stopped it, forcefully pulling him back, and soon Minseok was dragging Minho away.
“That was uncalled for.”
“No it wasn’t.” Minho defended himself.
Minseok voice rose, eyes narrowing. “Shut up.”
The fight in Minho drained at the tone of his brother’s voice. He was upset more than angry. He let Minseok drag him to the public bathroom with out protest now. It was empty, thankfully, but then that only meant more talking from his brother.
“You can’t act like this, Minho.” Minseok ripped paper towels from the dispenser and quickly ran cold water over it. “It needs to stop now.”
Minho slouched, suddenly childish. “I didn’t do anything.”
Minseok sent Minho a look, brushing long bangs from his brother’s eyes, before dabbing the wet cloth to Minho’s split lip. “Don’t use me as an excuse.”
“But-” Minho was cut off, voice a hiss when Minseok applied more pressure to the cut. Minho opened his eyes to meet a stern glare from his older brother, reminding him too much of their father.
“Why do you need to do this?”
Minho shrugs, answering honestly, “I don’t know.”
Minseok got more wet paper towels, cleaning more of Minho’s swelling face. “Do you need to see that doctor again?” It was obvious he was careful how he spoke now.
Minho stiffened. He shook his head, “I don’t want to.”
“And I don’t want you fighting at my soccer games either.” Minseok sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. “I need to get back.” He grumbled, “I’ll be next kicked off the team at this rate.”
Minho flinched at the words, but he had nothing to say so he kept his mouth shut.
“Here.” Minseok handed Minho the paper towels and gently clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Come out when you’ve cooled down, okay?”
Minho nodded.
As Minseok left, he called over his shoulder, “And no more fights.”
Once the door closed, Minho kicked the floor and tossed the wet cloth at the wall, voice breaking in a frustrated growl. He glanced in the mirror, finding his beaten face behind long, messy hair that he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t cut all of it off again. He blinked, staring blankly until his lips slowly curved into a smile. Part of him was glad, relieved he fought back without freezing up. The other part looked at his face and knew he deserved it, so he couldn’t even be mad.
Minho watched the rest of the game quietly and alone, arms crossed tightly.
On their way home, Minho almost had a meltdown from the accumulation of stresses and his brother tipping it with, “If you want to fight with someone, fight with me.”
Minho didn’t want to fight his brother. Not really.
Alone in his bedroom, that night, Minho broke a promise to his brother for the second time, spilling red from his thigh with a stolen kitchen knife he had spent too much time scrubbing clean immediately after while his legs pressed together sorely.
Why hurt his brother when he should be the one hurt.
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If readers are having issues understanding, at least regarding Minho, please let me know because it seems I'm getting mixed signals in the comments about it.
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