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Minho and Jeongin have a complex relationship. Complex meaning; no relationship at all.
That's what makes Minho insane in the head.
It isn’t a type of obsessive, –if you can call it like that–behavior that will pin around you as a second shadow, instead, he is the one that will stare through your soul if he casually catches a liking on you.
Casually often being not casual at all. When Minho “liked” someone that was all he could think about. He doesn’t think he is obsessive at all, but sometimes Minho finds himself answering questions that he is supposed to not know the answers to.
My person should be doing right now according to their usual schedule. Person x should not do that to my person, they will get mad. My person would not do that, they would yada, yada, yada...
Well, he was only a little bit obsessive after all.
Minho was the one to observe and study someone’s behavior until he had a mental copy similar enough to the real one, only if that meant that wouldn’t have to commit to actually being close to his subjects.
The closeness he craved happened with two subjects. The first one moved out when he noticed that Minho started to frequent the same spaces he did, trying to talk to him about things the guy knew Minho didn’t like. He yelled at him that he was weird, to stay away.
He couldn’t, so the guy left the campus.
And Minho tried to kill himself. Sadly, things did not end that night. Felix–his brother–made him vomit the bottle and half of his prescription pills.
Dying is painful if you don’t succeed, also he looked at the family’s cats with a little bit of shame because his brother told him the creature was curled on his lap when he found Minho passed out in the bathroom.
The second time is actively going, he promised himself this wasn’t going to happen again and stuck to his usual observer shenanigans when someone called for his attention. The thing is that Jeongin happened to be the most beautiful human being his eyes have landed on. He's mysterious, but has charisma—doesn't talk too much, but if he does if to snap back some clever answer. Besides that, Minho thinks he's silly, all those walls of nonchalance falling down quickly because he sucks at sports, and he's clumsy in general. Always acting as no one saw him trip over his own feet.
Minho did see him trip over his own feet. Pick up on bitten apples off the floor when they slipped from his hands, not caring to clean it before taking another bite. He saw everything Jeongin thought no one did, gaining special respect from Minho that cold afternoon when he went missing from a group gathering they held up, working on some unessential project. He followed Jeongin's figure with his undivided attention as he walked around beside the woods.
The halls said students weren't supposed to be around there. Neither of them cared enough.
Minho excused himself to the bathroom, just to find Jeongin a few steps too far into the woods past the closed gate that had a few bars missing. He was crouched down, a small, white, wild rabbit being fed from his hand. Minho almost found it cute, until the creature was close enough for slender fingers that took it by the ears, snapping its neck in a quick twist so the bunny wouldn’t suffer a painful death.
Minho, endeared, watched as he kept the lifeless little body in his bag.
So, this guy is also a freak, he thought.
They weren’t supposed to be remotely close, but life circumstances made them crash out in the same friend group. Jeongin being the newest addition thanks to Hyunjin. Minho wasn’t really close to anyone; it was Jisung's fault for him to be there against his will anyway. Meanwhile, he found comfort in a quiet guy that had a weird aura–like he was hiding dark secrets–Minho really didn't mind as long as he didn't bother him for shamelessly staring in Jeongin's direction.
Chan never judged him, so neither did Minho when Chan told him about the morgue gig. But that’s another story.
However, Minho did mind about his lover’s existence. If he started liking Hyunjin's extravagant–dramatic, even annoying if you ask him–persona for bringing Jeongin to the group, the feeling switched in the blink of an eye when Minho found out that Hyunjin likes to be over his—Jeongin, all the time.
He wasn't the type of person that got jealous and made a scene, he left that to Hyunjin, also noticing that the reason he was over his person all the time was because, in the tall ones twisted wires, he resembled Chan in some weird way.
No, he doesn’t. Jeongin is more interesting, prettier even. Was what the voices in his head said.
Minho slit his thighs every day Hyunjin poked jeongin on the dimples, or when he messed up with Jeongin's hair to smell his shampoo—the same one Minho bought and got off to its fragrance so many times he had to wash his sheets twice a day for a week, before his brother yelled at him that if he was trying to kill himself again he completed the job. The bed clothing–cum and blood stained–was inside a box down his bed now.
He usually made his cuts with clean blades, less disinfecting. The days Hyunjin decided to molest Jeongin more than usual, Minho carved deeper with the old rusty cutter he kept under his bed, also inside the box with bandages from Jeongin's scratches when he fell playing with the other guys.
Minho thought he would have to try to kill himself to make Hyunjin stop his madness. That wasn't necessary at all the day Jeongin noticed the fresh cuts on Minho’s skin, he decided to do it this time on a more visible placement. A little out of his usual, the tissue there wasn’t as marked as his legs one, but it was an experiment to test the situation.
It worked.
The day was sunny and hot. perfect, normal people would call it—the start of summer.
To Minho, it was perfect because two days before he started his plan, he let red drops go down his wrists. So, by the “perfect” day, the cuts were healed enough to not carry bandages, and that day they also happened to be playing soccer on the campus field.
Jeongin tripped and–to not burst his teeth against the floor–grabbed Minho so hard that not only Minho's hiss were enough to make him notice, but the trails of blood that wasn't his. He looked at his own hand, then at Minho's, still holding, flipping it around to find the reopened wounds dripping over pale skin. Jeongin looked Minho dead in the eye.
"Can we talk later?" Jeongins voice being directed to the older made something inside him twirl, still didn't catch a singular hidden emotion behind the request.
"Sure." was all he answered.
Minho stepped outside the field to go to the bathroom and wash out the drying blood, he carried gauze around because he knew himself. The flowing water from the ratty bathroom cleaned the red trails, he heard another presence outside the bathroom. It was jeongin, Minho knew the weight of his steps, that he was probably leaning against the wall with a foot on the wall.
He was. Minho almost wanted to smile because he was proud of his hard studies. He just stared at jeongin dead in the eye, expressionless.
"Do you want to die?" was what Jeongin asked after they shared a little moment of silence on their walk back to the field.
"No."
"Why do you do it then?"
"I am an attention seeker." That made jeongin laugh and Minho's heart started pounding on his chest.
"Has it worked?" Minho caught Jeongin already looking at him when he raised up his view from the hall floors. Intrigue, his inside voice said, reading him.
"pretty well," he said out loud.
And it really seemed to work, not only because of the fact that Chan and Hyunjin were already dating and the later one was fixated on his now boyfriend, but also because Jeongin started sitting beside him when the whole group shared lunchtime together.
Jeongin wasn't a man of words–Minho neither, but he liked that they shared silence and judgement to the others, that was enough for him.
The younger one even started reaching for him when he didn't understand an assignment, they worked on club projects together, Jeongin met Minho's cats one night when he was passing by his neighborhood.
Minho stopped cutting himself for so long that he had no unhealed slits for a whole month.
Until that night.
University parties weren't a big deal on that campus, it seemed that all groups hated each other. The parties were private, so Jisung decided to throw a big one and invited the whole campus.
Surprisingly, the party was a success. More than half the population was in Changbin's big ass rich people house–that was what jisung called it–a friday night after school ended.
Minho was there because Jeongin said he would go.
The night was boring. Minho hid on some crowded corner where people around him were making out in a way they looked like they were going to cannibalize each other—he felt like puking, but he didn't move. It was the best spot to stare directly in Jeongin's direction and see him talking with some random girl that twirled her hair too much.
It was hot again, so Minho dared to wear shorts that day, the scar tissue on his thighs already itching to be reopened.
When the girl stepped closer to Jeongin, Minho stood up and passed right by them to the bathroom. An empty glass bottle of strawberry vodka on his hand and heavy steps right behind him.
Minho broke the bottle at the border of a window when he was going upstairs, a few people looked at him weird but he could not care less, all he cared about was Jeongin shouting his name.
He didn't look back or stop any second.
The bathroom was occupied, of course, so Minho just cursed and started to try opening the rooms praying for one to be unlocked.
What seemed to be a guest room was empty. Minho entered and threw the door that never closed how he intended, loud, heavy, scandalous—Jeongin adjusted it and locked them inside.
"I thought you were having fun down there." Minho sat at the ledge of the window, looking down his shorts to lift them up and let the marks healed salute to him again.
"I thought you didn't come." Jeongin stood up in the middle of the room when Minho looked back at him, staring directly in the eye as red started to paint lines down his skin. "Are you in love with me? That's why you do this? Are you jealous?" Minho only let out a laugh, another horizontal line.
"I am obsessed with you." Red painting the carpet as he confessed.
"Is there a difference between love and obsession?"
"You ask too many questions." Minho looked down again, "but yes, to me it is different."
He heard Jeongin getting closer, his feet appearing on his field of vision, then those long fingers adorned by a few rings helped him hold the hem of his shorts up.
"You don't like me." Minho blurted out, nervous. A cold shiver creeped up his spine, breath hitching. Jeongin made him feel overwhelmed.
"You are right. I like your legs, though." Jeongin just kept coming closer, Minho didn't dare to look up, and also didn't know what to do, so he cut another line right beside jeongin's index finger. The blood pooled against the foreign skin, Jeongin lifted his tainted hand to hold on Minho's chin, making him look up.
Minho didn't understand his eyes, well, it wasn't that easy. Jeongin looked empty all the time, fake laughing, performing reactions. He liked to study him for that, to see when the mask would fall.
It never did.
"I don't like anybody, or anything at all." jeongin confessed, and Minho kept staring. Breathing was difficult, the wounds started to burn against jeongin's tightening grip. "But I don't particularly hate you."
Minho knew Jeongin wasn't going to kiss him. He looked like it, but Minho didn't want that to happen yet, with his warm touch on his skin was enough. So when Minho stood up and jeongin stepped back, he felt like killing himself at that moment, the lack of contact burning more than the deepest cut he made.
It wasn't necessary, Jeongin stared at his red dripping thighs, just to come back and hold him by the hips.
"If i keep being close to other people that aren't you, you will keep doing that" Jeongin pointed down with pursed lips, minho nodded. "But if I stay close to you, would you do it for me?" Minho nodded fervently, he felt like dreaming.
The first guy, the one he tried to kill himself for and failed miserably, never got this close to him. In fact, they never exchanged more than a hundred words–Minho counted on them–so this was glory to him. Sweet success.
Minho liked hurting himself, not because of self hatred, but desire to be wanted. Jeongin didn't exactly want him, but wanted him to keep hurting himself.
it clicked perfectly, not in the way minho was expecting, but he wanted to stay there forever, even if he was bleeding freely and his body ran out of vital liquid.
"How much are you in love- obsessed with me?" Minho ignored the fake mistake, amusement was hiding behind a growing grin.
"My favorite blade is secured behind a box down my bed. The box also has used band-aids you wore, a piercing ball that fell off your ear, a small bottle with the shampoo you use, a sweaty shirt I stole from your P.E. locker, a..."Minho talked like it was a mantra, looking directly at Jeongin's not surprised eyes when he cut his discourse.
"Alright, I got it. You've touched yourself with that." Minho didn't hold up protest, he was right. So he undid jeongin's pants as he was already turning him around, "you do have pretty legs, how do you even have marks on the back?" Jeongin did ask too many questions, Minho rolled his eyes as jeongin was unbuttoning his shorts and putting them down. "I'm flexible, thanks." Minho hissed when the fabric grazed the freshly done lines.
"Interesting. Would you cut one right now for me?" jeongin propped his chin up against Minho's shoulder, almost purring in a velvety voice that made Minho's dick twitch against its closure. "Since you asked so nicely..." was all Minho took to reach for the broken glass he left on the window, peeking through his shoulder to see if his spectator was looking. Jeongin seemed fixated with the curve of minho's ass that meet perfectly with the horizontal lines just below it, so he slit deep enough to make him whine, drawing a thick drop that Jeongin did not let out to waste—taking out his cock of his underwear, sliding raw against the wound.
Minho let out a loud moan when the warmth of jeongin's flesh covered in his own blood went between his thighs, grazing slowly as jeongin grunted holding on his hips. Minho threw his head back as jeongin started to grind on him, breathing heavily when he slipped out completely just to thrust back in, the friction working on minho’s covered dick as he got caught up in a sturdy pace.
The blood from Minho’s thighs kept dripping down his legs as Jeongin moans started to fill the room along a wet filthy sound, small dots painting the floor in each thrust when their skin met halfway. Minho swiped up a palm over the damage to try to stop it, failing miserably he bit his lip when jeongin became ruthless against the gap between minho’s legs, just where the hem of his underwear glazed his sensitive cock.
"Jeongin-ah!" Minho whined in pain, pleasure, he wasn't sure. The pressure making the wounds stretch was building a warm feeling on his lower belly. Jeongin's full erection pressed harder against the older covered cheeks and he let out another whine when he slipped out. catching his breath, Jeongin let a hand wander over Minho's clothed cock, palming a little at it before sliding said hand in his underwear.
"Havent even touched yourself yet and you're leaking a lot already, huh." he was right. Minho, shameless, started stroking up and down in search of friction, it wasn't enough. “i can't tell if you are hurting or enjoying it, how fun is that.” jeongin smiled against his skin, voice strained when he shoved himself back between Minho's thighs, leaving a little bite that took a gasp out of him. “You like it, hm. letting people make use of your pain to feel good. Ah- you feel so good, fuck.”
Minho wasn't really talkative when having sex–he only did that once though–so, he thought sex was boring, but Jeongin’s moans worked on him and he just could nod in affirmation. He liked being used; dreamed about others feeling bad, made sure the people he wanted to be doing the things he wanted—weaponizing his suicidal tendencies was an easy trick, he did not pity himself, peoples pity was just a ticket to getting things done for him. That was the way he felt pleasure.
Making his current obsession feel good as he was hurting was another level of climax he wasn't used to, heaven down earth.
Jeongin kept grinding into him and Minho, dizzy on ecstasy, fell on his hand on the border of the window—the glass digging deep into his palm, making him burst pathetically on his underwear. The shakiness coming from his orgasm made him press his legs together tighter and Minho felt Jeongin’s sweaty forehead fall against his nape, “let me cum over them, please…” Jeongin pleaded, panting.
Minho definitely didn't know this side of him. Proud of his discovery, he nodded, letting out a breathy ‘yes’. The second after jeongin was turning him and whitish lines spilled over red ones. Minho fell down the ledge with Jeongin following by his side, resting his forehead against Minho temple.
They stayed like that for a few moments. Jeongin catching his breath, Minho adjusting to the pinch he felt in different places of his body. The glass that was still trapped by his hand was the worst one.
“Fuck.” jeongin perked up his chin on Minho's shoulder at his cursing, looking down at the horrid slit that crossed the whole palm. “That's gonna need stitches.”
“Yeah. Can you get off me? I'm bleeding from various places and I don't feel like passing out.”
“Sure, sorry.” Minho made a mental note that the post-nut dizziness made jeongin have his manners back. He slid out Minho and they both huffed at the feeling, distance burning. Minho pulled up his underwear and shorts, spasms –and the pinch of pain– making it difficult to poorly clean the trails of different liquids that went down his skin with the hem of the clothes—already amused by the thought of jeongin's cum staining them. He didn't mind it, the box under the bed neither would.
“Do I need to take you to a hospital?” Minho turned around to watch Jeongin zipping up his pants and doing his belt to let down the oversized shirt he was wearing.
There he was again, nonchalant wanna be, smug faced, pretty with the just-fucked-so-good blush blooming on his cheeks, red. Minho smiled and shook his head.
“Just take me home, I can stitch up myself. I also need to take a shower," Minho looked down at himself, dried red trails that made him look part of a crime scene.
“I think you look sexy like that.” Jeongin smiled too, looking almost genuine; unexpected, the voice said.
Minho made another mental note for later.
If i dont make him mine, next time i try to kill myself it's gonna be the last one.