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minx 5d
Jeong Yunho stared at his phone, the contact name Song Mingi burning his glazed over eyes in the darkness of his bedroom. Outside, the city bustled, rich with nightlife. Partygoers and alcoholics loudly exchanged conversation, their words completely audible, even over the bass of the music Yunho was blaring.

Cherry Waves had been playing on repeat for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t intentional– but it did wonders to his intoxicated body, making his heart twist and turn with every soulful verse.

Clutched in his hand was the neck of a heavy glass bottle of Bacardi Superior. The fragrant liquid sloshed around in the bottle, along with the acidic burn of the alcohol in his stomach. He’d promised himself– no, he had sworn he was okay with being friends– that he’d accepted their ending.

He hadn’t really, though. It was painfully obvious, even more with the truth serum melting away those carefully constructed lies. With every drop, the dam that held back his desperate longing for Mingi crumbled, threatening to unleash a tidal wave of regret and raw desire.

So he did it. He gave in, whether he meant to or not.


Jeong Yunho: yo
Jeong Yunho: i’m missing you more than my liver is missing being sober.


He sat there with his phone laid on his thigh, looking down at the screen in expectation. It’s two in the morning, so Mingi could very well be in bed and asleep, yeah ? Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Out of the whole year and a half they had been together, Mingi never went to bed before six am. So he was awake. Question is, why hadn’t he answered ?

‘Did he… block me ? No, he’d never do that to me. He promised we’d always be friends..’

Maybe he did fall asleep. Only because Yunho refused to believe that Mingi would deliberately ignore his texts. Or in this case, advances.

He was still hopelessly in love with Mingi. Everything about him was meant for Yunho, and he was sure of it. Two people who started as friends, progressing– what else was there to say about a relationship like that ? It was perfect in his eyes. Perfect for them.


Jeong Yunho: mingiii~
Jeong Yunho: wake uppp
Jeong Yunho: i miss you.

He was starting to feel pathetic about his whole situation, if we’re being completely honest here. What came over him, overpowering his whole body with the urge to text his ex, while he’s stripped of his inhibitions and completely distraught ?

‘I should go back to church.’


Jeong Yunho: i bet you’re in bed
Jeong Yunho: probably like
Jeong Yunho: naked

Jeong Yunho: mingi, are you sleeping ?

No response.

Yunho laughed at himself, but not quite because it was funny. Because it was sad.

The playful facade suddenly shattered. The Bacardi had done it’s job, not only in breaking down those thick walls, but tearing down their barrier that he’d worked so hard in enforcing.

The flimsy attempts at flirtation now felt hollow, replaced by a crushing weight in his chest. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but the words that came next weren’t at all what he’d intended, they were a desperate plea from the deepest parts of his bruised heart.


Jeong Yunho: i actually really miss you.
Jeong Yunho: it hurts. i want us back
Jeong Yunho: why did we ever stop ?
Jeong Yunho: please answer.


The silence from Mingi’s end was worse than radio silence, sharper than the burn of the Bacardi. Yunho took another long swig, the bottle feeling lighter in his hand, but his heart much heavier.

He felt stupid. Inadequate.

He was no longer trying to tease Mingi awake; he was trying to scream into the void of their absence, desperate for an echo.
from my piece, BACARDI *****.
you're welcome.
minx 3h


Jeong Yunho: i’m drunk
Jeong Yunho: that doesn’t matter though

Song Mingi: yunho, i miss you too. but you know i can’t be here for you.
Song Mingi: we’re at different places in life.


Minutes passed before he sent another text, one that followed with regret– not that Mingi was capable of recognizing his emotions, anyways.


Song Mingi: i’m not at my best place to give you a relationship, yu,
Song Mingi: certainly not the one you deserve.
Song Mingi: it’s not your fault, i’m a cynic.


His messages had been sent ten minutes ago. Worry settled low in his stomach as he ****** in another deep drag. The smoke poured from between his pink lips with every breath, obscuring his face like the morning fog rolling over mountains.


Yunho couldn’t take it. He’d been staring at the screen, holding his breath, hoping for him to send a sixth text saying ‘it was just a joke !’ but he didn’t. And he wouldn’t.

So he cried.

He broke down, everything he’d locked deep inside of his body bled through, filling his room in the form of shaky sobs and cracked pleas into the dark vortex of his personal hell like a soul eater.

Yunho sat, his back to the headboard, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head in his knees. He consoled himself, wrapping his arms around his cold body because no one else would do it for him.

How’s feeling like the break-up was all your fault only to come to the realization that it was ?

His phone chimed a couple more times, and it took all his strength to pick it up. He almost didn’t.


Song Mingi: yunho.
Song Mingi: don’t do it.
Song Mingi: answer me or i’ll come over


Yunho wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling. His face contorted to one of confusion. He rubbed his eyes before sending his response.


Jeong Yunho: do what ?
Jeong Yunho: i was crying,
Jeong Yunho: i’m sorry


Mingi read the message, his body finally relaxing again. He’d never been so happy for a response in his life, even if Yunho had it as unfortunate as this.

‘I thought I had lost you forever.’

He didn’t know what to expect. Anytime Yunho got deeply intoxicated, he’d always risked his life. I dunno, just maybe this time he felt the need to take it. Then Mingi would seriously regret things.

Before he could respond, Yunho sent another text.


Jeong Yunho: do what, mingi ??

Song Mingi: never mind
Song Mingi: are you home alone ? or is san there ?

Jeong Yunho: it’s just me.

Song Mingi: yeah, i don’t like that.
Song Mingi: can i come over ?

Jeong Yunho: no it’s messy
Jeong Yunho: i’ll drive over there
Jeong Yunho: see u in five


Mingi saw that and panicked. “Is he crazy ?? He’s drunk !!”


Song Mingi: no
Song Mingi: don’t ******* drive
Song Mingi: i’ll go get you
Song Mingi: or walk, just don’t drive
excerpt from BACARDI ***** // minx

xxoo
Andrew T Apr 2016
Washingtonians, this Wednesday afternoon, come to the Starbucks on 1600 K Street to become acquainted with some young, interesting, average income level Asian American guys and gals. Instead of meeting Asian American doctors, lawyers, and consultants, you’ll meet Dr. Dre copycats, alcoholic paralegals, and T-Mobile wireless salespeople.

These guys and gals are looking to meet new friends that include: white, black, Hispanic, or any other race of people, just as long as you aren’t a F.O.B. Because after all, they don’t want to perpetuate the stereotype that Asians only hang out with other Asians. Just kidding, we love our F.O.B brothers and sisters! But **** stereotypes.

If you are a Washingtonian who likes drinking alcohol and smoking marijuana, stop by and make a new Asian American friend who will provide mixers and match you on a blunt. Please, do not ask these guys and gals for college study notes for Math or Bio, because all of them have dropped out of college to pursue their artistic passions, like: writing a novel about having a white group of friends and being the token who reads Tolkien and likes Toking; playing electric guitar in a grunge, punk, post-emo garage band with your black buddies who like Fugazi and bad brains but ******* hate Green day for selling out; and drawing sketches and painting portraits of the half-Asian girl you’re dating on a wide canvass, but really you’re secretly into selfies and taking photos of breakfast on Instagram.

We don’t discriminate against the kind of alcohol you drink, whether it be wine, beer, or liquor—within reason please don’t bring Franzia or Rolling rock, this isn’t college anymore. Yes, we get it, you’re highly considering attending this group because you’re a huge Haruki Murakami fan and you’re wondering two questions: are our Japanese American patrons also huge fans of the author, and do our patrons behave in a similar fashion to Murakami’s characters like Toru Watanabe and Toru Okada?

First, our Japanese American patrons are huge fans of Murakami and they own books like Sputnik Sweetheart and The Windup Bird Chronicle, but they also think the author often is obsessed with Western culture, in a way that possibly, and seriously possibly transforms him into a Brett Easton Ellis derivative based on Ellis’s American ****** and Glamorama.

Second, no these particular patrons do not behave like Murakami’s characters, because they’re real, living, breathing human beings, and not some fantasy figure or made-up person! But enough of the rant, please come though and let’s have conversations about jazz and talking cats.

While we respect Asian American actors like Ken Jeong and Randall Park, we really aren’t interested in having a lengthy dialogue about The Hangover’s Asian **** scene, or how Park was kinda offensively funny in The Interview. Although Park is awesome in Fresh Off The boat! All we really want is to just drink jack and cokes and smoke Marlboro lights and have conversations about the latest trends in indie rock and Hip Hop culture, and whether Citizen Kane was better than Casablanca, or vice versa.

At the meeting, we will have our guest speaker Jeremy Lin’s college roommate George Park answer questions about Lin, as well as a special appearance by Steve Yuen’s ex-girlfriend Marcy Abernathy who will give us an inside scoop to Yuen’s fetishes as well as his quirky habits. We will also be providing free snacks like LSD Pho noodle soup and Marijuana Mochi ice-cream. On a serious note, we’ll be giving out guilt-free Twinkies.

Before you arrive at the Starbucks, you’ll be getting a name tag and a free A.A.A T-shirt that wasn’t made by little children from China; instead, the shirts are made by Ronald Mai, our aspiring fashion designer whose twitter handle is @thatsmyshirtwhiteman! If you’re interested in coming out to the group our first meeting is this Wednesday at 6 p.m.

Leave your apprehension at the door and walk in with a warm smile, as you’re greeted by an expressionless face. And phoreal if your car is messed up and you require a ride, please call A.A.A’s number at (202) 576-2AAA (we know we’re phunny). Hope to see you there, and if you don’t come, you’re a ******* racist! But seriously come out and meet some cool *** people.
vanessa ann Feb 2018
i found myself last night whispering your name under the shield of my duvet, willing myself to pronounce every syllable of your name to the darkness of my room. i looked up to the plastic stars on my ceilings, remainders of the childhood i once had, and said it:

“yoon. jeong. han”

every syllable clear and true.

and it occurred to me,
how beautiful your name was.

“yoon” — the moon and the whistles of the wind, lulling me into dreamland.
“jeong” — a masculine edge.
and finally, the concluding “han” that returns it into its original softness.

clean milky way.

i’ve never expected to fall for a boy with your name. but i’ve always been fascinated with the universe and all the bright lights surrounding our blue planet. so i guess, it is only fitting for me to fall for a boy whose name means “clean milky way”

so i whispered your name over and over into the night.
yoon jeonghan.
yoon jeonghan.
yoon jeonghan.
until the taste of it becomes as familiar as the quiet.
and i swear, i saw the plastic stars on the ceiling growing brighter with every syllable.

i whispered and whispered until i fell into morpheus’ charm, and awoke with a new realization:

*your name is my favorite sound.
to the boy who made me feel

{or alternatively — "it's 3 in the morning and you still haunt my mind so i decided to write this piece i wouldn't call poetry and post it on a poetry website for hundreds to see"}
july hearne Sep 2018
i can't wait until we go through with 25A
once we remove trump from office
then ALL of our problems will go away
& world peace will be here to stay

i better start practicing telling everyone
what they can and can not say.
Remy Feb 2021
LOVE
This word
Made worlds turn upside down
L
   O
       V
           E
That feeling you have
When you see the wild ocean for the first time
When you see how white the snow is for the first time

As you dig deeper
You will know
that ..

You can drown
In that same water, you prized
You can freeze to death
In the same feathery snowflakes
That fascinated  you
By their unique shape
By their glimmering

As you dig deeper
You will know
How sweet it is that feeling of love
And being loved

" it's better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all "

A mixed haphazard feeling

L  i  k  e    T H a t   F e e L i n g  

WHEN ...
you taste that first sip of coffee
from your favorite mug
in a sunny spring day

WHEN ....

you smile at a stranger
and smiles back

you travel with no destination
and the universe keeps on surprising u

you dance like no one's watching

you sleep under the stars

you can't sleep
because you are excited for the next day

you are running into someone
you haven’t seen in a while

you draw a big smile
on the faces of your loved ones
" it's better to have loved and lost , Than never to have loved at all "    taken from a song called MORAL OF THE STORY

Jeong; Korean word , it is a connection between two people that can't be severed  ,even when love turns to hate you will always have tenderness in your heart for them

                                    I WAS HERE :)
Raj Arumugam Jul 2012
See, do you see?
free cat roams
free cat lives its multiple lives
curly tail and rich fur and shiny eyes
across the Korean landscape of Jeong Seon;
and do you hear?
Free cat purrs:

*“it’s nice, dear Cat God
to be free and open
and I like it I owe you no obedience
unlike those miserable humans;
in your wisdom
you make crickets and large insects appear
and I make them disappear –
you and I are equal partners in the cycle of life,
dear Cat God;
and a rat in the wild
and some water in a secluded pool
and all these fresh air and hidden nests
I like all that, I like it this way
(And I don’t a give a meow or cat-**** for humans
and their elegant cats lying on cushions)
And of course,
when the passion seizes me
in here in the open,
there’s always a ***** cat, ready and wet
and we wail and meow all night
Hey Cat God -
I like it this way, feral in the wild”
poem based on painting "Chuil hanmyo" (Free cat on an autumn day) by Jeong Seon (1676 and 1759), Korea
minx 1d
On the other line, Song Mingi laid in bed, completely at ease, for once. A fresh blunt hung from his still fingers, wafting the disgustingly amazing aroma through his dim bedroom, the only sounds being heard were the occasional inhale and the traffic outside.

Every time he breathed in, he could practically feel the stresses and sorrows leaving his body. That’s one thing he liked about it. It made all his problems go away– or at least slightly more moderate than they’d usually be.

Reaching to his left, he fumbled the painkillers off of his cluttered nightstand.
Setting the blunt between his lips, he twisted the cap off, shaking one out onto his hand before knocking it back into his mouth. He crunched it between his back teeth, before downing it with a glass of lukewarm water.

This is how it always went. Smoke a blunt, headache, knock back prescription pills every four hours until he couldn’t feel anything at all. That’s the beauty of synthetic satisfaction.

Never lets you down.

People ask him why. Well, just imagine losing everything, and then throwing away the best thing you had. You would force yourself into bitter evenings in the clouds, too, if you had nothing better to do.

It’s the idea of always feeling like you’re never enough even when you’re still doing too much. It’s overwhelming, and to Mingi, there was only one thing that could wash away the miserable shame and anxiety. He’d rather be disgusted with himself than let other people be disgusted with him.

So he inhales. And he doesn’t exhale, because he’s not so sure he deserves to.

Picking the bottle of pills back up from his lap, he places it back down on his nightstand. As he does, his phone goes off four more ******* times. ‘If you’re not dying, then why are you texting me repeatedly ?’ He snatches up his phone, tapping it to be met with the glowing lockscreen.

Jeong Yunho. Jeong Yunho, Jeong Yunho, Jeong-*******-Yunho.

Even seeing his name on his screen sets off a whole new bundle of triggers in his mind. It’s like cutting open a wound that took so long to heal and letting dirt air settle on it. He scrolls through the messages, letting out little laughs before his heart falls.

“I want us back.”

Mingi choked out a sob. “Oh, Yunho…”


Song Mingi: are you drunk ?
Song Mingi: yunho ???
more of BACARDI ***** because i have some motivation

portrayal of emotions through actions,
Keagan Tan Apr 2020
summer,
a little before midnight,
the AC’s keeping half the sweat off our backs
thank god it’s not humid
we are sitting on his bed,
well
I’m laying between his legs
on top of him
faces inches away from each other,
it’s not ******
or romantic
but it’s something?

I hope I’m not crushing him,
but he holds me
as I press my face into his shoulder
and ask if I’m too much,
he says sometimes
but don’t worry so much,
I sigh
tracing his soft back with my fingers,
thinking how often we argue,
no that’s too strong a word
how often we disagree
better

it’s at those times
I wanna peel myself off that
that motormouth
and scream into a pillow,
but as I lay on him,
for all the times I can’t see or stand his
bluntness,
in the aftermaths
I’m always grateful for him,
challenging my ego
to be so openly
himself

the knots in my shoulders are
worth it
I pull him in even closer,
kissing his cheek,
interlacing our fingers,
the AC can barely keep up
don’t worry,
I won’t marry him
I won’t date him
**** I won’t even sleep with him,
not that he’d let me do any of the above

right now though,
his heart’s beating against mine
and I’m wondering about
the imperfect people
I let into my self
and how much we miscommunicate,
but never stop trying
and maybe,
that makes it worth it.
july hearne Nov 2020
eric is a fat pasty faced white man
who votes for joe biden
eric is a closet racist
but wants everyone to wear a mask
he wants to shut down the economy
so he gets a free pass

the last person i felt this way about
was named ed murray

sarah jeong is an ugly person
who doesn't belong to womanhood
except there are so many ***** just like her

sarah jeong is asian and unattractive
she writes about the racist white
but is only attracted to white men

i don't think eric is gay
because the women at work hate him

eric probably vacations in thailand
eric's mother did a terrible job raising him
Yonah Jeong Apr 8
I am Yonah Jeong
My appearances:
Blood, Eyes, Hair, Skin
Soul
Mind
Heart
All are beautiful
Because they are created by Love
I am eating three meals also
I am making three poems
Everyday
And I am breathing because of
Nature and neighbors
When I am fifteen years old
I decided and planned to be
A Poet like a peacemaker
For this society and you
Now I became a poet
Whoever I am
Whatever meets hard work
I must love things given to me
As exactly as possible
If I don't fulfill these promises
It is not my true intention
So I try to make happy my others
Just like myself
Through my poems.
minx 1d
Yunho’s drive home was just as anticlimactic as his whole day was climactic. He was worried to go inside, scared that Geonho would scold him for an hour before sending him to bed. Or worse, Geonho would already be asleep. Yunho didn’t like being in a quiet house, and he certainly didn’t like being alone.

His steps were careful and quiet, his socked feet padding to the back side of the first floor. Since he didn’t pass Geonho in the living room, he figured he’d check the dry bar.

Just as he thought, his big brother was leaned against the black marble, sipping on the Old Fashioned in his hand as his head was turned to the floor. He perked up at the movement to his side, turning and setting down his drink on a crystal coaster.

He didn’t say anything, and that worried Yunho. He was never really good at reading strangers’ faces, or picking up on social ques, but he’d thought that since he’d known Geonho his whole life, he’d be able to tell. But he couldn’t, and it bothered him.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to have that huge outburst in front of the most important people in the company. I was just so mad that he said that about Daddy, and compared us to him –like he even raised us, anyway– but seriously, it hurt my feelings. Even though I was wrong for doing that, I don’t regret it.” He rambled, but his statement was clear.

Geonho took a swig of his drink before looking back at Yunho. “I’m not mad, darling. Just overwhelmed. I should be sorry, if I’m being honest– I should’ve stood up for you. For us. For Dad. But I didn’t, and I regret it. You deserved to have me stand up for you, and I owe it to Mingi for telling that ******* off.”

“He’s fired, if that makes you feel any better. I’m a man with a lot of ******* power, and I’m gonna take advantage of that. I won’t have anyone throwing shame on our family name. You and I are in this together, dear. Thank you for being patient with me.” Geonho spilled, his hands slightly shaking as he spoke.

Yunho couldn’t help but let out a long exhale. “I thought you would be angry,” he shrugged, a sweet, lighthearted laugh ringing through the empty silence of the dry bar area. “I was convinced I was gonna come in here and get lectured.”

Geonho shook his head, a small huff leaving his lips. “I couldn’t do that to you, Yunho. Not after your day had been so bad. I’m just glad you came, even though you didn’t wanna.”

He sighed. “It means a lot to me. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to hear about… Dad today, but I guess people are always gonna have something to say. Even if people aren’t talking about him, it’s like his presence looms over me. I hate it. I hate that his image had to involve me, and I hate being the one that has to clean up the mess he made.”

Yunho frowned, pulling himself up to sit on the counter. “That’s why I didn’t wanna come. I knew that if I was there, someone would be bound to bring him up, and we’d get dragged into it.” He said, clasping his hands in his lap.

Geonho nodded, looking up at Yunho with sorry eyes. “I shouldn’t have taken you. I should’ve known it would happen. But, everyone was so excited to see you again, since you hadn’t really been inside the building for a couple of years. I knew everyone would be enamored with you, because you’re such an angel. Dad’s Angel. Everyone there knew it, too.”

There it was, that word again hitting Yunho like a ******* freight train.

“You were his favorite, Yunho. He never cared about me. It was always, ‘You’re the next man of this family, Jeong Geonho. Be big, be strong.’ I just can’t take the weight. You’re his little-*******-angel, and it just killed me to see you lose your spark after he started to forsake you. It’s like… like he got bored of us. You, Mommy and I.”

It took everything in Yunho not to break into tears. Geonho was jealous, but it was too **** late to make it up to him, now. “I miss Mommy,” he hiccupped. “Eh-Especially Daddy. I’m so mad at him. He hurt us. He– he hurt Mommy, he hurt you and he destroyed me. He did get bored of us, and he decided that ******* another woman was the solution.”

“He didn’t care about me anymore. He d-didn’t let me sit in the office when he worked– probably cause he was on the phone with that s-****. I used to be able to sit by the desk and…” Yunho paused, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would stop the tear flow.

“...and I used to be able to rest my head on his thigh. I used to be able to feel his hands in my hair, s-stroking my scalp, or petting my neck. I used to be able to sit in his lap. He used to call me his little angel. Daddy’s Angel. He used to love me. Where did that Daddy go ?”

His eyes were glossy with tears, flooding his waterline and threatening to spill down his puffy cheeks. Geonho practically lunged forwards, taking his shaky frame between his arms.

But they weren’t his Daddy’s arms. It was a pathetic substitute, one he didn’t care for, no matter how much Geonho tried. Yunho softly pushed him off, wiping his face and sniffling. He looked back at his brother with sullen eyes before he spoke.

“I know it hurts, dear, I’m sorry. I’m hurting, too. But like I said before– I want to rebuild. As sad at it is, he’s not in our life anymore. We have to push forwards, and by no means am I rushing you, I’m just trying to get my point across. We have to make a name for ourselves, even if that means casting out the one Jeong that couldn’t keep up.”

“We’re better than that, Yunho. You’re better than that. We have power, we have money and we have each other. We’re rich as ****.”

Yunho let out a little giggle at that, causing a grin to sprout on his brother’s face. “You’re right. Thank you, Geonho. You’re so amazing.”

He nonchalantly shrugged. “I know. Can’t get enough, can you ??”

Yunho cringed. “Actually, on that note– who were so you dressed up for tonight ?” He crossed his arms, tilting his head. “You never do your hair like… that… and I’ve never seen so much… chest. Might as well just left the house shirtless.”

Geonho’s fist collided with Yunho’s stomach in a matter of seconds. “No one, bro. It’s all for work. I’m married to my job.” He rubbed his nape, his ears turning red. Yunho shook with laugher, his arm wrapped around his gut.

“Sure, you are, hyung.” He squinted, waving his finger around.
poor yunho.
Yonah Jeong Apr 17
reason
cannot change result
only can explain it.

Yonah Jeong
minx 6d
“Geonho, I’d just like to say thank you for your commitment to the company. I know I’m not apart of your bloodline, but with how long I’ve been working for your family, I feel so truly honoured to be here, it really feels like it. You boys are amazing.” An older lady said, reaching over to pat his shoulder.

She was one Yunho recognized, especially after countless interactions between she and his mother. He knew she was dear to Mommy, and now Geonho.

Must be something to be that loved.

Another man –the one sitting directly next to Mingi– spoke up. Yunho didn’t know his name– knew he must’ve been given such a high position in the company since they fired the lowlife his father had been hooking up with.

And oh, he was just as terrible. He’d clearly downed too many glasses of scotch, the flush on his cheeks betraying his act of sobriety. He leaned back in his seat with an entitled flair, draping his arm over the back of Mingi’s chair.

“Ah, Geonho-ssi,” the man slurred slightly, gesturing vaguely with his glass, elbows on the table ‘n everything. “I must say, watching you two young men, so polished, so promising… it reminds me so much of your father. What a character !! A true force, one to be reckoned with.” He took a long swig, a knowing smirk stretching his lips.

“He certainly knew how to keep things… lively, hmm ? Especially with the ladies. He was quite the active man. Always had his hands full, whether with a new venture or, well, other ventures outside the home, yeah, Geonho ? Never knew where he’d be next, did you !” He let out a loud, booming laugh, clearly finding his own observation so-*******-hilarious.

Geonho, who sat at the head of the table, forced a tight, uncomfortable chuckle, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Yes, well, Father certainly had a… unique.. approach to things.” He attempted to pivot the conversation, clearing his throat. “But we’re trying to forge our own path, focusing on–”

“Hope you boys find a better work-life balance when you take over, for your families’ sakes.” That entitled ***** cut in, undeterred, his gaze now sweeping over Yunho with a backhanded pity.

“Wouldn’t want any… distractions like that keeping you from your true priorities, huh ?”

Yunho, who had been listening with a sickening blend of forced calm and internal fury, felt his blood run cold, then boil. Those words hit him like the impact of a nitro boosted *****. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached.
He watched his brother’s strained smile, the way he tried to brush it off, minimize the bleak insult.

It was a direct insult to not only their father, but to them. Almost warning them not to fall down the same path. His eyes, burning with inferno, snapped from the smirking colleague to Geonho, and then down to his own trembling fist.

Not again. Not here. Not in front of Mingi. Not from him.

With a sudden, very violent motion, Yunho’s fist slammed down onto the mahogany table. The sharp crack of wood against bone, amplified by the sudden silence, made the silverware jump and glasses rattle. The entitled colleague, mid-chuckle, actually yelped, spilling a splash of his drink.

Every head at the table whipped towards Yunho, who was now standing. His chair loudly scraped back as he looked down on that man, his face no longer ‘humble’ or ‘polite.’ It was pure rage, his eyes blazing.

“That’s enough,” Yunho’s voice was low, trembling with suppressed violence, but utterly devoid of any pretense.

“The Devil is on Earth. The knives are on the table. And don’t take this lightly, but you’re standing in a lot of shade right now.” He pushed back from the table, the chair toppling behind him.

“You don’t get to talk about my family. And you certainly don’t get to talk about my father.”

He spun on his heel, heedless of the shocked silence, the scattered glances, or Geonho’s widening eyes. Yunho furiously stalked away from the table, headed straight for the exit.

Geonho stood as well, his eyes watery and body trembling. “Jeong Yunho, get back here !”

Mingi, on the other hand, turned to the man, his brow raised and his tone terrifyingly calm. “What made you think it was okay to say that, huh ? Did you think you’re just so amazing, and just so much better than everyone here that you’d get away with that ?”

He didn’t say a word. Mingi spared Geonho a single glance before rushing out of there, following after Yunho. He was just in time, too.

Standing right in front of the headlights of the Aventador, Song Mingi aimlessly waved his arms to get the younger’s attention. Yunho looks up, wiping his eyes and shaking his head at Mingi, motioning for him to get out of the way.

Mingi scowled, walking to the side. He knocked on the window, crossing his arms. Expecting him to fully roll it down, he only cracked it.

“G-go.. go away, Mingi. Let me– let me leave.” Mingi heard him sob from the slit in the window, seeing his eyes all puffy and red, his face splotchy and tear stained. Mingi’s heart broke at the sight.

He shook his head, his fingers slipping through the crack. “You aren’t leaving without me, Yunho-ah. At least let me get in the car.” He tried to negotiate, slightly shaking the window in his grasp.

Yunho’s voice broke as he opened his mouth. “Please, Mingi. I wanna be alone.” He whisper pleaded, his hands ******* the wheel with a white-knuckle grip.

He almost kicked the car. A rush of anger at this whole situation just destroying him internally, but he couldn’t let Yunho see that.
So he stepped back. Far enough for it to be safe, close enough to be deafened by the roar of the engine as he sped out of that parking lot.

And he was gone.
he sped out.

WILDCARD//minx

— The End —