KEY'S POV

I was wringing out the bloody cloth, but no matter how hard I squeazed, the red just would not come out! Frusterated, I tossed the soiled rag into the trash can. There were plenty more after all. But, I couldn't just waste a cloth that would still get the job done. I heard Minho come down the stairs. I looked up, he looked dazed, like he was walking in his sleep. I looked down to the trash can, held my breath as I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows then reached inside, only touching the cursed thing with my forefinger and thumb. I brought it to the sink.

I heard the door shut. My head turned. Was that Minho? Where was he going? Maybe I could get him to buy me a new washcloth.

I hurried outside to see if he had called a cab or something, knowing our driver wouldnt be anymore. He was gone. I turned to go back inside, when I saw a figure crumpled on the ground at the corner of the block. I ran. As I got closer, I recognized the jacket.

"Minho!" I called. Was he hurt? Did he pass out?

But when I approached him, He was shaking. At first I thought he was having a seizure...but as I dropped to my knees beside him, he made a noise...a noise that tore into my heart.

He sobbed. He wailed, crying out in utter agony.

The maternal part of me grabbed his head and held it tight to comfort him, letting him cry, softly croning "Shhhhh, shhhhh." as I rocked back and forth. I have never seen him this way before!

Soon I loosened my grip and lay his head in my lap and just his hair, hoping he wouldn't feel awkward about it, it was just in my nature to be this way.

"Minho," I said softly, "What happened." It wasnt really a question. But Minho just shook his head, crying with his mouth open, he looked so sad, I almost started crying myself.

"Minho, please." I had to know what the problem was. I had to fix this, I wouldn't let mysef be useless. Not again. But in order to fix the problem, I had to know what the problem was.

Minho took several gasping inhales before he finally managed to 'speak'.

"He (gasp) he-he-he c (gasp) can't! Taem (gasp) m (gasp) miiinn!" And then he was hystarically gasping for air, like he was having as asthma attack. Not really sure what to do in case of an actual asthma attack, I assumed he was just sobbing really hard and his hair again, shushing him again. Was he upset about Taemin throwing up? No Minho was more manly than that, it must be something else.

We stayed that way until Minho had settled down to the point where his breath was just unteady. I had wiped the tears from his eyes, but I couldn't take away the numb,bloodshot stare as he gazed at nothing in particular.

I seized the opportunity to ask again, this time, more gently so I he wouldnt freak out again.

"Minho, please...tell Key whats wrong," I said, realizing too late it sounded like I was talking to a baby.

Minho breathed audibly, but it wasn't the frantic gasping it had been, it was more like a sigh.

"Taemin, today, he was drunk." My breath caught as the words struck. He had spoken slowely, I hadn't imagined it. The vomit, th-no! No I wouldn't believe it.

"How do you-"

"I saw...there was a vodka-" he just cut himself off. There was more.

"He's cutting."

Another blow to th stomach. I really couldnt breath. I conciously tried to inhale, but I couldn't. No. No, nonononononono. No! Taemin did NOT drink, he did NOT cut!

But it made sense. I breifly recalled trying to wash his bracelets. He had jerked away. Why hadn't he wanted me to take off the bracelets? No. It wasn't that. It couldnt be that...but then, why was Minho crying?

"Are you telling the truth?" I asked, tying to stay calm. Minho looked up at me,his eyes were completely sincere.

"Yes." He said firmly, with no room for question.

I felt my hand rush up to my mouth and I looked away from him as I felt my eyes roll back. I felt like I was about to vomit. I believed him. And for once, I wished Choi Minho was a liar. I wished he were a sissy who was crying because Taemin didn't feel good.

That would be a better alternative to this. Taemin has to have something really tough going on to think he has to resort to this, destroying his life. Taemin is smart, and he is strong, he can handle things better that most of his hyungs. I really dont even want to know what has him doing these things, because if he can't handl it, I almost definatly wont be able to. He may be the youngest...but he is also the toughest, in a way. But I know I have to talk to him. We have to find out what is going on. And that thought, pushed out the tears I didnt want Minho to see. But he did, and he began to whimper again. And there we were. Both of us, nearly grown up men, crying in the street, like children.

Until Jonghyun ran out of the house screaming.