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“Your car is really pretty,” Jisung said, startling himself and the man standing a few feet away.
The man turned to him, Jisung shrinking under his gaze.
He tipped his head at Jisung, eyes piercing, “You like my car?”...
Two. Four. Eight. Sixteen. He’d worked so hard for so long and he’d ruined it. It didn’t matter what he did, he would never be good enough. Hours and hours and hours of spent hunched over his tablet, over textbooks, pages scattered across his desk, and it still wasn’t enough.
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“That’s not what – I’m not –” Jisung took a moment to collect himself, breath stuttering his chest in a way noticeable to Minho as his smile had fallen. “You know I am trans, right?”
One-two-three-four. The tears were already welling in his eyes, vice around his chest crushing his ribs to dust. His palms were still flat on the table, fingers curling in, nails catching on the wood, a splinter lodging itself in his nailbed.OR – Feet sinking into the mud of his life, still in the first steps of his transition, Jisung was not meant for kindness or understanding. Then a red Porsche, a soft smile, hands gripping his. Something better than any love he’d experienced before.
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Bookmark Notes:
10/10, a few tears escaped my eyes 🩷🩷🩷
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Bookmark Notes:
ok
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Bookmark Notes:
This was very good a d i liked it
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Bookmark Notes:
all the feels~