Ghostly Beauty - Minsung

Chapter 22

Once again, Minho was coughing into a bowl, hunched over as sweat gathered in little beads on his forehead. Jisung patted his back, rubbing it and holding his bangs back from dangling in the way.

Like before, there was blood and petals, but something wedged in Minho's throat and he coughed violently. Jisung hit his back trying to get it out. Tears formed in Minho's eyes as he felt like he was suffocating, too weak to cough harder.

When it finally dislodged, Minho immediately sat back and let his eyes close, tiredness taking over him as he fell unconscious against Jisung.

The younger looked down into the bowl. There was the usual, but one more thing. The thing that lodged in Minho's throat. The thing that Jisung was scared of. The thing that meant the disease was progressing quickly.

A bud.

A flower bud.

One singular flower bud floated atop the blood. Jisung clasped a hand delicately over his mouth. He let a tear slip.

Minho was dying.

He was dying and there was nothing he could do.

Jisung lay Minho down onto the bench, tucking him in with the abundance of blankets which enveloped him. He pushed the older's hair back, sweat dampened the strands but Jisung didn't care, he placed a gentle kiss to his head.

He let a choked sob rattle his body. He didn't know what to do. It hurt him. His sweet Minho was dying and he had to watch it happen. He couldn't do anything to stop it.

Jisung sat on the floor next to the bench, Minhos hand dangled over the edge and he held it tightly, kissing the palm. He was so scared to lose Minho forever. The boy was probably going to go to the after life and Jisung would have to stay here. In this ice rink. Forever. When the world ends, he'd still be here, alone, just watching it all crumble to dust. Maybe then he'd be accepted into the afterlife. Maybe after he'd watched the world fall into the void of nothingness.

Or maybe after that he'd have to live out a meaningless existence in space forever. Just floating.

His thoughts were broken, however, when the door swung open and Minho's friends, and his old ones, ran into the rink.

Jisung was taken by surprise, his eyes widening.

A spark of hope flickered in his eyes when he saw Felix, Jeongin and Seungmin, but that flame quickly died when he realised they couldn't even see him.

They ran to Minho as they saw him unconscious on the bench.

The bowl was still on the floor, full of blood and petals.

Of course they wouldn't know what it was.

They scooped Minho up, frantically talking amongst themselves, some of them crying.

Minho's hand fell out of Jisung's. The boys mind was blurry as panic overran his system.

The only thing he could understand was that they were taking Minho away.

Jisung screamed at them to stop, but his voice didn't make a sound to the other boys.

They didn't know what was happening.

They didn't know how to take care of Minho.

And Jisung didn't know how to take care of himself anymore.

He needed Minho as much as Minho needed him.

He sobbed relentlessly as he reached out his hand, trying to pull Minho back, but his hand fell right through. All his friends ran straight through him.

He was just air to them.

He ran towards them, following them out, but he stepped too far, the pain in his heart was back, he wanted to fall to the floor, but he fought it and stumbled back into the building, clutching his chest.

They had taken Minho away from him.

Jisung led his trembling legs into the closet and fished out one of Minho's hoodies. It still smelt like him.

He clutched it in his arms and sunk to the floor, burying his face into it, breathing it in.

He sung himself the lullaby Minho would sing him when he was in pain as he wet the hoodie with his tears.

If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if the older was still there, holding him.

But he wasn't.

Minho was gone.