November 13, 2020 - Haneul’s 5th Birthday

"Umma, can we try calling appa again?” Haneul asked once dinner was over. He looked up at her longingly while sitting at the table, his chin resting in his palm. 

Sohee was helping Taemin clear the plates from the table but suddenly stopped upon hearing her son’s question. Her eyes traveled over towards the sink where Taemin stood awkwardly. If she was looking for any reassurance from him, she wouldn’t have found any because he only gave her a sorrowful look. 

With a sigh, she turned back towards Haneul and nodded. “Ne, we can try and call again.” 

The day had been anything but pleasant. Instead of Haneul being a happy child for his birthday, he was quiet and withdrawn. It was even noticeable in school that Sohee received a phone call from one of his teachers asking if Haneul was doing OK and even recommended that maybe he see one of their school counselors. Though Sohee knew that his teachers meant well, she felt a little offended. She had explained this to Taemin before they sat down for dinner. 

"Don’t get too upset, noona, at least they noticed that there’s something off about him. I wish someone had noticed hyung and I as kids.” Taemin said in a defeated tone. 

Sohee wanted to be angry but in the end, she knew that it was pointless and that Taemin was right. It had been eight weeks since Minho had been captured and there were no updates as of yet. For all they knew, he could be dead but it was the last thing they wanted to believe. It was starting to take a toll on all of them, but especially Haneul. It was one thing for the young boy to not have his dad physically around and only be able to FaceTime. However, this was a situation that was so foreign that no one knew how to react, especially to a now five year old who missed his appa and even more since he couldn’t talk to him. 

Not to mention that their case had made local news. Their lives were anything but private the first few weeks despite the desperate requests that they would like their space during a very difficult time. By now as it started to get closer to winter, it was almost as if they were forgotten.

Out of sight, out of mind. 

Once the table was cleared and the dishes left to soak in the sink, Haneul couldn’t help but follow his umma everywhere to call appa. The three of them finally settled into the living room and sat on the couch, Haneul sitting in between both Taemin and his umma. 

Taemin would watch in silence as Sohee unlocked her phone and scrolled to find Minho’s name. They had only done a few dozen attempts in the beginning when this all happened and it always went to Minho’s voicemail. In October they tried a few more times again but it always ended with the same result. In Taemin’s heart, he was really hoping that by some miracle, for Haneul’s birthday, his brother would answer. 

Everyone perked up once the dial tone was on speaker. Though they had heard the tone a bunch of times before, they hoped that each long ring would end sooner than the last. But it rang, and rang, and rang, and rang. Haneul was starting to get disappointed and leaned back against Taemin. 

And then… 

"Annyeonghaseyo, this is Private Marine Corps Choi Minho. I am unavailable right now…”

Voicemail. 

Sohee pressed the red button on her phone to end the call quickly. She, along with everyone else, couldn’t bear playing the rest of the message. In silence, the three of them sat with the same disappointment. After a moment, Haneul sat up and nudged at his umma. 

"Maybe he was busy, umma. Call again? Juseyo, umma?” He pleaded gently.

Through her tears, Sohee looked at her son, deeply frustrated. “Haneul-ah, don’t you understand? Appa isn’t answering the phone, he’s not there!” 

Taemin could feel the sting in Sohee’s words even if she didn’t mean it. Haneul immediately reeled back and Taemin could feel it. Just from sitting behind him, he saw the young boy had hung his head and even heard sniffles. Taemin leaned forward and put his hands on his nephew’s shoulders in an attempt to maybe make him feel better. 

"Haneul-ah, let’s watch Captain America again, ne? We can try to call appa later.” Taemin did his best to persuade the five year old and hopefully take some of the stress off of Sohee. Unfortunately, it immediately backfired. 

Haneul shrugged Taemin’s hands off his shoulders and got up from the couch. As he faced both Sohee and Taemin, he was angry even with the big tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"Aniyo! I don’t want anything! Appa forgot about me so I’m going to forget about him!” He said angrily. 

The outburst had definitely taken Taemin and Sohee aback that by the time that the both of them went after him, he had already made it up the stairs to his room and slammed the door. Both Sohee and Taemin stood at the landing, defeated. Taemin took a deep breath to sigh, as he figured that maybe it would be best that he go upstairs and talk to him. He turned to Sohee to let her know, but when he did, she was quietly sobbing. 

"Noona… ?” 

"I'm a horrible umma, aren’t I?” She asked, her voice was shaking so bad that Taemin could barely understand her. He stepped closer to her and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Aniyo, noona, you’re a great umma. You’re only doing what you can.” He said as he tried to be reassuring to her. If he had to be honest, he would even say that she was a better umma than both his and Minho’s, but it was one of those truths that Taemin would never admit. 

In the moment that they both were in, Taemin gently pulled her closer towards him, to which she openly accepted. He allowed her to embrace him while she cried into his sweater. He figured that’s what she’d been needing for a while but Taemin hadn’t really noticed between school and helping watch Haneul. He decided to be comforting by trying to soothe her and rub her back to calm her. Taemin even pulled her in a little tighter which went unnoticed by Sohee. 

While Taemin held her close, he began to realize how he liked how close they were. Even if it was at the expense of making her feel better, it was weird to think that this type of touch had been neglected for quite a long time. It felt good to have this kind of contact and somewhere inside Taemin, told him that he didn’t want it to end. Even just the simple act of hugging made his body crave more, and it didn’t help that by holding her close meant smelling the body spray she wore or the shampoo that made her hair smell good…

Sohee gently pulled away in an effort to compose herself. She sighed in an attempt to stop herself from crying more, but no matter how hard she tried, they kept flowing down her cheeks. 

"It’s just so hard.” She said barely above a whisper. She needn’t explain more, Taemin already understood perfectly. 

As he watched her cry, it was compelling him to do something. With his left hand, he reached for her cheek and with the pad of his thumb, he started to wipe away her tears. She slowly looked up at him as he did so. He could feel his face was flushed but it seemed to be the least of his thoughts. Sohee had said nothing, even when he leaned in more she thought that he was going to wipe her tears again, but he didn’t. Instead, Taemin closed his eyes, leaned in close and kissed her.

It had been so sudden but neither one of them pulled away. In fact, Sohee welcomed the kiss. She pulled Taemin closer to deepen it and he understood completely. His hands moved to rest on her waist, not once pulling away from her lips. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest the closer he felt their bodies become…

But then she pulled away.

Taemin opened his eyes and suddenly felt breathless. When he looked at Sohee, he could tell that there was a look of shock. It was more towards what had just happened and Taemin could barely register it. He felt as though he was on cloud nine and couldn’t get down from the sudden high that heightened all his senses. But when she stepped away from him and wiped her face, did Taemin start to realize what he’d just done. 

"I need to check on Haneul.” Sohee finally said. She didn’t wait for an answer from Taemin and hurried up the stairs. 

Taeemin remained standing where they had been trying to process what had happened. As much as he wanted to bury it in the back of his mind and act as if it was nothing, he couldn’t. He kissed Sohee. He kissed his brother’s wife. The more he thought about it, the more anxious Taemin started to feel. However, he had wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her lips against his. Taemin wanted Sohee to grab him like she had only seconds before. Finally, he realized that he wanted Sohee’s attention, but in a completely different way. 

He looked up the stairs hearing Sohee’s voice call out softly to Haneul. The door to his room was open as the light flooded the hallway. Taemin felt that maybe he shouldn’t be involved but he also didn’t want to wait downstairs either. He mostly just wanted to go to his room and be by himself. 

He took in a breath and started to go up the stairs. As he did, he could hear Sohee’s motherly voice. 

"Haneul-ah, I’m sorry for snapping at you. Do you forgive umma?” She asked in a cooing voice. Taemin was already at the top of the stairs and decided to wait it out. He stood right outside of Haneul’s room with his back against the wall. 

"Ne, I forgive you, umma.” Haneul responded back but his voice still sounded sad. 

If Taemin had peeked around the corner, he would’ve seen Sohee had been sitting on the edge of Haneul’s bed. The young boy was laying on his side while his umma smoothed his jet black hair out of his eyes. 

"And you know that appa cares about you.” She added. There was a slight pause before Taemin could hear the mattress shift and heard Haneul’s small sobs. It instantly pained him to hear his nephew cry because it brought his own childhood memories that he wished he could forget as easily as Minho could. 

"Why doesn’t he answer, umma?” Haneul croaked. The more that Taemin stood there, the more he questioned himself as to why he would bother torturing himself to hear any of this. Why didn’t he have the strength to walk past the open bedroom door to go only a mere six feet to his own room? Instead, Taemin decided to finally come into view and leaned against the doorframe. 

Sohee briefly glanced up to look at Taemin and then back to her son. He was sitting in her lap with his head against her shoulder. She was gently rocking him like she had always done in the past when he was much younger. Taemin could remember them clearly. He’d find himself suddenly awake from the loud newborn cries. Out of curiosity, (and slight irritation) Taemin would get up from bed. He’d go to the door of the nursery (which was Haneul’s current room) and find Sohee in the rocking chair, infant in one arm and a bottle in the other. 

"We don’t know, Haneul-ah. Remember, he’s with the bad guys. They won’t let him talk to us.” Sohee responded the best she could to make it make sense for a five year old child. She looked back up at Taemin and he nervously stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Haneul sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 

"You know, Haneul-ah, your appa was really happy when you were going to be born.” Taemin said almost randomly. The five year old turned his head to look towards his uncle but continued to rest against his umma’s shoulder. 

Taemin gave a small smile. “You were all he talked about to everyone he knew, even people he didn’t know.” He said chuckling and actually started to creep into his bedroom. He could see that he had perked Haneul’s interest as the tears seemed to have paused. Taemin reached them and sat down on his knees. 

Taemin nodded to himself, as if all the memories started to flood back through him before he continued.  “He wanted to be surprised so we didn’t even know that you were a boy. It made him even more excited about you being born.” 

Haneul paid attention fully to his uncle now. Though he had heard the story of how he was born probably a million times, coming from a point of view that was different from either his umma or appa’s was new to him. Taemin smiled and he glanced up at Sohee, who gently smiled back at him. At the end of Haneul’s bed, stood a tall bookshelf where half of the bottom was filled with children’s books but the top half was also home to some of Haneul’s keepsakes. 

Taemin stood up and went to the bookshelf’s top shelves. Immediately he found what he wanted to show his nephew and came back around to kneel in front of the both of them again. Haneul sat upright to look down into his uncle’s palm. 

"I remember your appa wanting these for you. We passed by a store in the town and he told me how much he wanted these just for you. He would’ve gotten them right there but we didn’t know if you were a girl or a boy… but then you decided to come early. Your appa was calling me and messaging me but I was in class. Then he said ‘it’s a boy!’ So, right after class, Samchon had to go to the store and get these for you, Haneul-ah.” 

In Taemin’s hand were the little pastel blue, crocheted baby booties. The boy tilted his head at them. Of course, Haneul wouldn’t have remembered ever wearing them but he hadn’t known the story behind the booties. Sohee smiled at the memories they brought to her, hence why she had kept them for so long. 

"Wasn’t I supposed to be born on Christmas?” He asked innocently. Taemin laughed softly and looked up at Sohee. With a smile, she reached her hand up to gently squeeze her son’s cheeks. 

"Ne, you were supposed to, but you decided to become an early present for appa and I.” She cooed to him which caused Haneul to slightly squirm because didn’t umma know he wasn’t a baby anymore?

Taemin smiled with a nod. “But I can agree with your umma, is that your appa not only cares about you, but he loves you so, so, much. Don’t say that you’ll forget about him because he hasn’t forgotten about you.” 

His nephew looked at his uncle with a skeptical look. “Taemin Samchon, how do you know?” 

There was a slight pause as Taemin looked from Sohee to Haneul. The question of how to exactly explain it suddenly became a new challenge but the boy’s uncle simply nodded as the answer came together. 

"I just know. I would never lie to you, Haneul-ah, I would much rather eat dirt.” 

His answer more or less confused Haneul but left Sohee stunned. By the time they had finished talking it was already time to get ready to go to bed. Sohee helped Haneul get into his pajamas and though he tried to test her to see if he could stay up a little longer, it unfortunately got shut down. He crawled into his bed and pulled the blankets close to him. 

"Jaljayo,* Haneul-ah, I hope you have sweet dreams.” She whispered and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He yawned out his goodnight to her before she left his room and remembered to shut the door only a tiny crack. 

She turned to the hallway towards her room which was at the end. She saw that Taemin’s bedroom light was still on but she decided to ignore it. Her feet made soft thumps against the hardwood floor so it was no surprise that as she neared his room, Taemin carefully opened his bedroom door all the way. Sohee stopped once he glanced up at her and it turned into an awkward staring contest. 

"Mianhaeyo, noona,” Taemin said finally and broke the stare to look down at the floor. Sohee was silent as she stared at him. Partially she wasn’t even sure what she was feeling, nor did she have time to analyze what had happened the moment Haneul left them alone downstairs. The apology didn’t even seem authentic to her. 

"I'm going to go to sleep, Taemin-ah. It’s been a really long day.” She replied. She wasn’t being mean nor did she even have an attitude when she said it, it was just all that she could muster the more she stood there. Taemin looked back up at her, biting his bottom lip before silently nodding. 

He watched her go to her room and shut the door behind her. Taemin did the same whilst turning the light off in his room. He walked to his bed in the dark and as he laid down, his mind was swimming with many thoughts. It became an internal battle of how much he enjoyed the attention she gave him, what he would’ve done if they had kept going, and what if they had gone all the way? But then the rational side kicked in, asking him what did he think he was doing? How would he explain this to Minho when he got back? What if he came back? 

By the time Taemin wanted to find the answers, he had drifted off to sleep. 

 *   *   *

Minho could tell that the seasons were changing to fall. Despite only being allowed outside to work and not leisure, the temperatures went almost completely unnoticed by him until the last few days it had dipped a little lower than usual. He’d been trying to keep a mental note of everything since very little information was being passed down to him or withheld. 

Minho could only assume that it had been at least a month since he was captured and it worried him. Whatever information that the North would share with him was always vague and to ask for clarification was out of the question. Minho had learned it the hard way. 

It had been an early morning and as routine would go, all of them would stand outside of their cells for a roll call. Their cells were in a building that was labeled nothing else but the number 18. As Minho would stand outside of his cell, his hands folded behind his back. Despite being stripped of everything that gave him an identity as a soldier from the South, he still remained in the military mindset. He could tell that most of the prisoners were North soldiers that had wanted to defect but unfortunately met their fate here. When the soldiers that were in charge of the roll call had finished, Minho had stepped forward. 

"Permission to speak, sir.” Minho spoke clearly and affirmatively. The silence filled the building but he kept focused. The footsteps of one of the soldiers made their way over to him and once the soldier reached him, Minho actually had to look down. That was one of the first things that Minho had noticed about the North soldiers was that the majority of them were quite short. Most of them barely reached his nose. 

It became almost a silent stare down between Minho and this soldier. Before another moment was wasted, Minho flinched at the sudden jerking motion the soldier made. Instead of being hit with an object, he was met with a warm and oozing feeling of spit landing on the bridge of his nose. Minho had his eyes closed as he tried his damndest to keep some composure instead of lunging at the other soldier. With a heavy breath, he used the back of his sleeve of the old prisoner shirt he was given to wipe off his face. 

He was forcefully pushed back into his cell and the door slammed shut. 

If he had to be honest, being spat on was the least of his worries. In fact, if he really had to choose, he’d rather have been spat on a million times than be gagged and beaten. 

So far all he was allowed to know was that both North and South militaries were in communication with each other. Any questions asked about his family were left unanswered. He was constantly told how it had been his own fault for trespassing and crossing North Korean borders and he would ultimately have to pay the price for it. Any connections to the outside world were completely cut off.

The day had started off in the usual fashion as it had for however long Minho was being held captive. Role call, line up, and begin work. For military prisoners, work consisted of twelve hour days or longer of manual labor, mostly of it being mining copper. Once the quotas were filled, it meant you were allowed to end work. 

It was in this work that Minho knew he couldn’t slow down, not even in the slightest. It curbed any chance of the Northerners calling him out. As he swung the pick axe into the earth, he noticed to the right of him, a couple men down, one of them was struggling. It was obvious that the man was exhausted. Minho gave a few side glances until he saw the man finally collapse. It hadn’t been the first time Minho had seen the North guards beat someone publicly in front of him and he knew that it unfortunately, wouldn’t have been the last. It pained him each time he heard the cries and groans of innocent people at the mercy of these cowards who called themselves “soldiers” to begin with. 

By the end of every day, he was sore, he ached, and most of all he had sharp pains in his stomach from hunger. He tried not to think about it the best he could, but some days were harder than most. Whatever food that was received was rationed and it was no surprise to Minho either that he would receive the smallest ration or none at all. Somehow the attitude towards him would change, being that they would give his rations first before any of the other prisoners. Minho had wondered if it was because of the South Korean army pushing for them to release him or give information and perhaps the North became spooked and tried to cover up the fact he’d been malnourished all this time. 

He sat quietly on the cement floor, picking at the calluses on his hands. The first time he had held a pick axe made his palms raw and the skin just under where his fingers connected to the rest of his hand were irritated enough to make blisters. By now his hands were rough and his calluses were making calluses. Though he looked concentrated on picking at his hands, his mind was in another world.

Minho didn’t want to think about home too much but being human, he couldn’t help himself. All he wanted was just to go back home. On the days that were the hardest, where he was the most tired, the most hungry, and especially the days that he was practically chosen to be the human punching bag, were the days he thought if he would even live to see the outside again. 

As much as it made his heart ache to miss home, his mind would wander to other thoughts. Would he live or would he die here? If he died, who would take care of Sohee and Haneul? Knowing Taemin, he’d do it. He’d practically put his life on hold to help Sohee raise his own son without any argument or complaint. That’s just how Taemin was. He took things without fighting back. As kids, Minho hated that Taemin was just so damn forgiving to anyone.

Minho even tested it once. Taemin had been only eight and Minho was ten at the time. They both had been playing football (soccer) in the backyard of the house. It wasn’t much of a match but just simply kicking the ball around. That’s when Minho came up with the idea. 

"Yah, Taemin-ah.” Minho called his brother. The younger of the two walked over to him, the ball in his hands and his head tilted to the side. 

"Ne, hyung?” Taemin asked, his short hair following in the direction of the wind that day. Minho looked at him and smirked. 

"Let’s see who’s the greatest goalie. I’ll have you go first. If I can block all ten of your shots then you have to do my chores for a week. If you can block all ten of mine, I’ll do yours. Makes sense?” Minho asked as he finished explaining. 

He rmembered Taemin gave him a look that was so sincere, and so true, that Minho almost wanted to slap it off of him. The young boy could only smile, almost bashfully and shook his head. Minho raised his brows at him. 

"Waeyo? You don’t think that’s a fair game?” Minho was quite shocked that his brother didn’t seem to agree with him. He was so close to wiping the smile off of Taemin’s face himself if he wasn’t going to say anything.

But he did. “Aniyo, hyung. It is fair, but we both know that you’re the greatest goalie.” Taemin responded with a nod. 

Minho was shocked but he didn’t want to show it. Sports were a strong point of Minho’s, both brothers knew that. When it came to Taemin, sports weren’t as enjoyable as they were to Minho, but nonetheless, Taemin only played sports if Minho wanted or if their umma made them. Otherwise, Taemin didn’t care for them. He was much more into sticking his nose into a book rather than run around a field all sweaty with team mates. 

"How do you know? I could be really terrible and you’re probably a whole lot better than me.” Minho explained as he tried not to sound like he was gloating but again, it never seemed to faze Taemin. 

"I just know, hyung. I would never lie to you. I’d much rather eat dirt.” Taemin said while nodding again to add more confirmation. 

It was at that moment that it dawned upon Minho. He stared at his brother for a moment before looking down at their shoes and then back up. With a tilt of his head, Minho looked at his brother with a thoughtful expression. 

"Would you do it?” 

Taemin looked up at Minho, confused. “Do what?” 

Part of Minho hated even asking the question but there was a sense of pride that lurked beneath the surface. At the time, Minho had no idea what the feeling was, and it was at that moment that it suddenly overtook him. 

Minho desperately tried to downplay his smirk before asking, “If I told you to eat dirt, would you?” 

Both of them stared at each other for what felt like the longest time. Minho started to wonder if maybe what he asked was a mistake and there was an instant feeling of regret, but it died down quickly. He watched his brother look at him thoughtfully before handing him the soccer ball. Taemin almost looked sad but he was still smiling even when Minho gently took the ball into his arms.

"Ne, hyung. If you asked me to, I would.” Taemin answered and looked up at Minho with such trusting eyes that the pride in Minho completely vanished. 

It was at that time that Minho learned that his brother was not like him, not even in the slightest. Minho could be very unforgiving if crossing his path in a bad way, but when it came to Taemin, it didn’t matter if you were good or bad, Taemin was going to forgive no matter what. He remembered hearing Sehun say once about Taemin that, “you could beat him like a dog and he’d still come back with his tail wagging.”

It was one of many of Minho’s fondest childhood memories. If he could only go back in time to redo that moment, he would. But the more Minho thought, there were a lot of things with Taemin he wished he could redo or take back.

The times he was angry with him over stupid and petty things. 

For making Taemin feel that he didn’t face Sehun’s measure of abuse the same way he did.

For not being sensitive enough towards him. 

The dim lighting in the building suddenly . Immediately, Minho had perked up. Through the bars of the cell, he could see that on the other side of the building, was a newer guard at the entrance. He looked to be around Taemin’s age or probably older since everyone didn’t seem to look as old as they were due to such stunted height and overall appearance. Minho didn’t expect this guard to actually come to his cell but he did. He managed to stick his arm through the bars of the cell and was holding out the food rations to Minho as if he were some animal. 

"Gajyeo, take it.” The guard simply told him in a monotone voice.

As much as Minho wanted to be skeptical, the pangs of hunger were starting to outweigh everything else. He stood up and within a few strides he took the rations from the guard. Minho could see the guard had eyed him up and down for a brief moment before he decided to turn away. Minho wasn’t going to let the guard go that easy. 

"Jebal,*” Minho said quickly before the guard could even get five steps away. To his surprise, the guard actually stopped and turned to face Minho again. The guard raised his brows to indicate that he was listening. 

"What’s the date today?” Minho asked and the guard gave him an odd look. There was silence between them before the guard looked around quickly and walked back towards Minho’s cell. The guard stood so close that it almost looked like he was about to join the South Korean soldier behind bars.

"The date is 13 November 2020, joein*.” He said flatly. 

In the revelation that Minho had discovered, he wouldn’t even take the brief moment to acknowledge it. This small exchange was nothing but a test. Minho knew right from the beginning when he could see that this guard was more or less much softer spoken and the fact that he actually stopped to answer Minho’s question was not typical North Korean behavior. If it was that easy to scope out someone who had some kind of sensitivity, why hadn’t Minho figured how to break out of this place?  

When the lights turned off and all was quiet, Minho dropped to his knees. There was an overwhelming feeling that was consuming him by the second and he didn’t know what it was. His chest had become tight and it was getting harder to breathe. Despite the air around him being cold he was sweating bullets. He could literally feel himself shaking as he realized what today’s date was. 

It was Haneul’s birthday. 

He had been there for all of his birthdays, except for this one. All of the feelings had bubbled up to the point that he was in tears. Minho wanted to scream and he almost did but he stopped himself. He literally clapped his hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes closed. The tears escaping from under his lashes the more he stifled himself from making any noise. Minho wasn’t one to openly cry in front of anyone, he actually hated it. But in the darkness, in his lonesome, cold prison cell, he couldn’t stop himself from the immense despair he felt. 

Being so worked up only worsened the sharp pains in his abdomen. With both of his arms, he held his stomach and leaned forward on his knees so that his forehead rested against the floor. 

Every and any memory he had of Haneul came to him in waves. 

The day he was born.

The first time Minho held him. 

Making the first bottle. 

Teaching him to walk and eventually talk.

Followed by the first time he said ‘appa.’ 

Especially the time when Haneul got very sick with pneumonia. To see a three year old in the hospital hooked up to so many machines just to keep him alive was unbearable. When he was finally able to go home, Minho couldn’t let him go. 

Eventually, all the memories started to blend together as his body had no strength left to keep up with mind or emotions. He finally moved himself to lay on his side in a fetal position with his one arm wrapped around his knees and stretched out his other arm to use as a pillow. His eyes were still wet with tears but it wouldn’t have been the first time he cried himself to sleep and it seemed that it wasn’t going to be the last.  

A/N: Hello all. I'm really sorry about the delay in updating this story. I've had a lot of things going on personally that kept me away from this fic. I just want to thank you all for being patient, enjoying this story, and supporting it! 

I'm sorry if this chapter was super long but I didn't want to break it into two parts. So we have even more of a background of what happened while Minho was gone. The 'eat dirt' scene was inspired again by Kite Runner (I just love that book ok TT)

Again, thank you all for your sweet comments, for subscribing, and everything you do to support this fic. Please remember to stream 'Superstar' if you have the chance ^^ and Minho's 'I'm Home.' 

Jaljayo: goodnight/sleep well

Jebal: please (used when pleading or begging for something)

Joein: prisoner

I didn't want to add gajyeo since I added the translation right after in English lol 

-M