Feathers and Carnations

Chapter Five

Jisung was dead. Or, he felt dead, anyway. His arms and legs were filled with rocks, his head filled with sand. He didn't want to move, unsure why his body was feeling this way. Maybe it's all the drugs. Or I'm unwillingly giving up.

He absently reached up and rubbed a lock of his black hair between his fingers, briefly wondering if he imagined the gentle fingers and the comforting voice. Was it Minho? What did he say? Jisung couldn't remember. He could only remember the sound of the voice.

After a drawn out moment of laying there, Jisung slowly sat up and noticed the light spilling from the windows was golden and bright. It was evening already? He got to his feet and stepped out into the hall. He didn't need to wonder if Minho was there because he was coming up the stairs, tucking a gun into the holster under his suit jacket.

Minho met his eyes in surprise and then smiled. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

"You could have gotten me up. It's already so late."

"You already don't trust me, I would only make it worse by waking you up when you clearly needed sleep."

Jisung couldn't stamp down his small smile fast enough. "Thank you for the concern, but I don't need to sleep all day."

"You just did, so no, you don't need to anymore." Minho leaned back against the banister. "Feeling hungry? I went out and got some food."

Eating wasn't at the forefront of his mind, but the moment it was mentioned, he felt the hollow knock of hunger in his body. He nodded. "I could eat."

Minho smiled. "Great. Come on, it's still fresh."

Jisung eyed his gun as he followed him downstairs. "Fresh as in you stole it from a delivery man?"

Minho noticed his gaze. "You could say that."

"So you're not above stealing food."

"Never."

Jisung let out a small laugh. He couldn't help it. "I guess we're all lowlifes, no matter how much money we have."

"It's who we are."

In the kitchen, a variety of bags and boxes sat on the counter, all from different restaurants. It smelled heavenly, and Jisung's stomach growled in response.

"The delivery man had a lot of options in his back seat, so I just... grabbed them all," Minho said, a laugh in his voice as he opened one of the bags. "Help yourself."

"I'm touched that you shook this out of a terrified delivery man for me," Jisung teased, digging through the options. "No one's ever done that for me before."

Minho's eyes were sparkling. "Never? How dreadful."

"Did you just say dreadful? I don't think I've heard anyone use that word aside from very old people."

"It's a good word, Jisung. You should expand your vocabulary."

"So you're creepy and nerdy."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

A laugh bubbled out of Jisung. "Being creepy is a bad thing, Mr. Lee Minho."

"I was talking about being nerdy."

Jisung half wondered if he was still asleep and wandering a strange dream. Minho was nothing like he expected, and he was... strangely comfortable around him. Was that what this feeling was? Or was he experiencing Stockholm Syndrome? "Alright, being nerdy isn't bad, but it doesn't really go with your whole... being a mafia don thing."

"Nonsense." Minho didn't make any further argument and dragged one of the bags off the counter. "The living room is pretty comfortable, come on."

Jisung wasn't sure why, but he followed his captor into the front room. They sat on the couches opposite each other, and he curled his legs under himself as he settled down to eat.