"Good morning, angel," Minho cooed, leaning over the bed to give Jisung's swollen face a peck. "I have to go to dance, but I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" Jisung nodded and Minho left.

When he heard the lock click into place, he viciously scrubbed at the marking on his hand until the skin trapping it turned the same vibrant red. His tears had long since run out, but the soundless trembling of his lips was uncontrollable. He hurriedly left the bed and rummaged through his bathroom cabinet. The orange bottle was brighter than a toxic frog but tasted oh-so-good when the fake serotonin trickled into his brain. He realized with a quiet gasp that none of his friends were informed of his color and were probably anxiously waiting to hear from him. He located his phone (it was under the bed) and opened his chat with Hyunjin and Felix. Their last talk was the day before when they were all drooling over his boyfriend. He giggled as he read over the messages and typed a short greeting.

He got replies from both teenagers almost immediately, asking about the outcome of his birthday. He told them about the dot, and they booed. With a shy smile, he elaborated further, telling them about his night with Minho.

hyunjean: imma tease the hell out of him when I see him at dance later

feliz: bro, same, he'll never live it down

Jisung reread the messages and bit his lip.

sungie: what time does dance start today? 

hyunjean: uhhh, 7pm I think?

hyunjean: why? did Minho forget again?

Jisung scoffed, but typed back a simple "yeah, sorry". The conversation dulled and Jisung switched off his phone.

"He's lying to me," Jisung mumbled, flopping onto the couch. "Where the hell is he going?"

The process continued steadily for a week. Minho would wake him up with a soft kiss and a "good morning, angel". Jisung would smile and wave him goodbye, feigning innocence, before gossiping with Felix and Hyunjin, who never had dance when Minho left.

His first assumption was that Minho detested him for his status, hoping that separating himself from Jisung would save himself the heartbreak when his boyfriend died of the same poison that seeped into Woojin's harmless brain.
But by the end of the week, Jisung came to the heartbreaking conclusion that Minho's lies were either a result of cheating or not loving Jisung anymore.

Jisung's antidepressants gradually declined in quantity, along with whatever confidence he harbored from Minho's convincing compliments. He drowned himself in his schoolwork, going so far as to ask the teacher for extra assignments just to occupy his mind with something other than whatever the fuck his supposed boyfriend was doing. Minho never mentioned another partner, he never smelled like anything other than the stupid candles he liked lighting before he left, and the fondness in his eyes never even flickered. But Jisung couldn't help it. His trust in Minho was fading like the lit candle sitting on his kitchen table.

When Minho came home shortly after 9 for the sixth time that week, greeting Jisung with a cute smile, the flame blinked and disappeared, rising into the air as suffocating smoke.

"Hey, Sungie," Minho leaned in for his nightly kiss, but Jisung pushed him away. That was surprising for both of them. Even though they had argued over the years plenty of times, neither laid hands on the other, not even playfully.

"Jisung, what's wrong?" Minho dropped his duffel bag on the floor to give his anxious boyfriend his full attention. Jisung noticed the action and was tempted to search, just to see if there was any evidence of his assumptions in the smelly bag, but resisted.

"I don't know Minho. Maybe you can tell me what's wrong because I've been trying for days to figure it out." The bite Minho expected to hear in Jisung's tone was nothing but a pitiful whimper, yet managed to stab his heart deeper.

"We're happy, right? Or we were, right? It wasn't just me being a delusional, insecure bitch, was it?" Jisung pleaded, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his baggy t-shirt. "You loved me once, didn't you?"

The teenager lifted his tilted head to greet Minho's shaking pupils.

"When did you stop?" His voice wavered, and his eyes screwed shut from the effort it took to control his tears, but his question was certain.

"When did I..." Minho blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the full message hidden in Jisung's question. "Jisung, what? I didn't stop. Are you crazy?" Minho couldn't help but be a bit offended. "Why would you even say that? Jesus Christ." Minho cursed, turning his back on Jisung and slamming the door to their room.

Jisung watched him go. This was one situation that Minho would have to fix on his own. He sat down on the spotless kitchen floor with his legs stretched in front of him. He lost a lot of weight, he noticed. His thighs thinned out considerably, his already tiny waist following suit. He placed his hands on his stomach and rubbed the indent of his ribcage, feeling each divot on the pads of his fingers. Even from his angle, he could see his fate staring back at him, red, bright, and terrifying.

"Maybe if you take me now, he'll say he loved me," Jisung whispered to the emotionless color.

"Don't say that shit," Minho growled from where he leaned against the doorway. With quick steps, he grabbed Jisung collar and pulled him from the floor, slamming him against the counter hard enough for him to feel the tingling in his pelvic bone. "You're not fucking going anywhere."

Jisung grabbed at the hands on his shirt, tried to pry open the fist constraining him.

"Han Jisung, you are the love of my life, as cliche as it is." The grip loosened, and the sheer terror in Minho's starry eyes went with it. "If this system didn't exist, I'd marry the hell out of you. I'd get down on one knee, preferably not after dance class, open up a little ring box worth more than our whole apartment, and make you mine for the rest of our lives. But I can't do that, because this," he tapped the back of Jisung's hand, "is in our way. just don't ever, ever, doubt my love for you."

Jisung scanned Minho's face, from his thin lips to the bags hanging ominously beneath his eyes. He traced the stress lines in his forehead and crossed over the freckle on his nose. Jisung's hands slid into the familiar junction where Minho's usually painted neck met his shoulder and pressed his lips against the others.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, Sungie, you don't have to be sorry."

Jisung sighed quietly and brushed down Minho's straying bangs.

"Can I just ask one thing?"

Minho nodded.

"Where have you been going all week?"

Minho chuckled, but it didn't sound like he was in any way amused. The older man patted him on the head and evaded his question by escaping to their bedroom. When Jisung finally joined him, Minho was snuggled under the covers, an expecting smirk on his face. Jisung rolled his eyes but joined his boyfriend under the covers.

"I love you," Minho whispered.

Jisung turned his head to stare into Minho's droopy eyes with a blinding smile.

"I love you too."

With Minho's feelings at ease, he fell into a peaceful sleep, but Jisung couldn't will his mind to stop buzzing. It fluttered from Minho's avoidance, to how sad his laugh was, to how angry he was faster than Jisung could overthink.

He raised his hand above his head to stare at the red. He could hardly see in the dark room, but he didn't need too. Every divot, every line etched into his skin was familiar to him. Jisung glanced at Minho's hand laying lifeless on the blanket and grabbed it softly. The colors were not conspicuously different without the lights help, but he could see how dark the red was in contrast to Minho's green.

He hadn't realized just how long his mind kept him awake until the cat clock in their living room meowed softly. When he stared back at their intertwined hands, his heart stopped and his breathing stuttered.

He figured out why Minho had been so distant the past week.

The colors switched.

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