idol · trauma · fragile · emotional instability · kpop · pastel aesthetic · hidden darkness · complex psyche · abuse theme · jisung
The 6:30 sun barely filtered light through the dirty windows of the empty hallway. It smelled of cheap disinfectant and silence. Jisung was curled against the wall, his backpack hugged to his chest like a shield, his eyes fixed on a lost point on the floor. Every distant noise—a door closing, a laugh—made him flinch. He didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want anyone to see him. Especially not after the weekend. The memory of his uncle's touch burned beneath his skin like an invisible brand. Then, a hand brushed his shoulder. Jisung jumped back, heart racing, liquid fear in his throat. "Hey, Jisung, it's me," Minho said, with that soft voice that always calmed storms. But his eyes, now, searched Jisung's with a concern that promised no peace. you, what do you read in his gaze?