Minho shouted and held his hand to his shoulder as if it were suctioned there. He backed himself to the dingy wall and hissed as the back of his shoulder felt something rigid rub inside it.

Daesung didn’t do anything to push Minho’s buttons, but started giving Minho flittering images of what he’d like to do in revenge.

  “Be glad I forgot my gun,” SangJung pressed his foot to Minho’s stomach and pulled out the hand-held knife roughly out of Minho’s shoulder, showcasing gore spilling from his wound.

Minho choked on air before snapping his jaw to a close, pressing his hand over to the wound and unable to reach for his back.

  “Such a clean cut, though,” SangJung backed away, examining the blade, “Went all the way through, judging that the tip is clean—must be on the wall.”

Minho looked at SangJung and felt so ready to pounce on him even if it’d cost him another shoulder. This wasn’t because he just stabbed him, but blatantly declared him guilty.

  “I didn’t kill Jessica,” Minho growled, hunching over to the floor, “You know it, too. I didn’t kill anyone. If she killed me, you would’ve been overjoyed, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d kill the myself, too,” SangJung grunted, taking the knife and rubbing Minho’s blood on to his pants, “Any killing of a creature, especially as rare as you, ends up in so much torture they’d wish they’d die. Then their wish I only want to make come true does come true.”

Minho frowned as his hand wasn’t doing any good with blocking his flow and straightened back up, pressing his back to the wall, the dampness of his shirt making a gush, “Then why all this? If I didn’t kill her, then this shouldn’t even happen. If she was fine now, I bet she wouldn’t even be touched by you for knocking me around.”

SangJung pocketed his knife and wiped his nose, sitting on the chair, “I do what I want, boy.”

Minho slid to the floor and breathed out a little harshly, one eye closing a little at the sting in his back. He couldn’t lash out, not now. They were so close. If he did anything that messed up how they all were situated now, they were all really screwed until Onew came back.

  “Are you done?” Minho said it more like a statement.

  “What are you planning, boy?” SangJung poked his tongue to his cheek, “Why are you suddenly causing so much uproar? Puberty hitting you late?”

  “Har. Har.” Minho spat at him, “Try being in my place sometime.”

SangJung stood up and went for the door without even trying to seriously question Minho. He must’ve finally gotten then hint that he was absolutely going to get no where, “Try being in my place sometime.”

The door slammed shut with a few hollers to get Minho an aid. He looked at the floor and huffed.

What was that suppose to mean? Was he trying to be depressing and sentimental or just the very same ?

At least there was nothing else to this encounter. Just a simple yell, a stab, and leave. Sounds like an average mugging.

Maybe SangJung had really given up on their group having plans. Maybe there was absolutely nothing on them.

Although, Trinity did have a lot to them and could spill at any possible time. That would be another mugging session turned into blatant murder.

We’re almost there, Minho thought to Daesung, trying to adjust himself to the wound spilling over his hand.

 Just a little bit more to endure.

  “He’ll be back soon,” Luna lead Jonghyun out of the room, “Just a paw check up.”

Jonghyun looked back, skipping with his healed leg and waving with his healed arm, “Don’t miss me too much, baby.”

Minho smiled and gave Jonghyun the finger, “Shut up, moron.”

  “No way to treat an elder. . .” Jonghyun joked and returned the gesture before Luna grunted under her breath ‘These morons’ and shut the door.

Minho laid back down on the bed and rotated his right shoulder. It’d been a few hours after being wounded but the healing process took barely a half hour. The wound wasn’t nearly as grand as a creature and hadn’t punctured much at all. All that was left was a small discomforting sore.

Minho’s eyes continuously changed from the ceiling to his eyelids and to the window. It’d been days since he’d last seen the bird and it conflicted him. It was his only real access to Taemin—to even be able to initiate some sort of connection to speak with him.

He hoped day by day the bird would come back and this time stays to work with him. The bird knew what he needed and he hoped it wouldn’t deny him of it. If it was good enough to show him Taemin, he wanted to think it could do much more than that.

Silently, Daesung would reassure him everything would work out as he wanted it to be. He showed Minho the past, where Daesung and Minji aided a large pack of these easily-dying birds for centuries and prolonged their lifespan, in which they became indebted to the Daegrents. This bird was just a joker, but it would come back. Again and again if it wanted to.

  “I hope you’re right,” Minho sighed and his side, “This is my only hope in talking to him, you know that.”

The reassuring feeling swept over Minho again and it made him feel positive and warm, allowing him to fall asleep in such comfort.

Let us give you a break, Minho.

The surroundings of the dream were black until a faded figure stood before him. As time ticked by, the figure grew clearer, and the wings of this person outspread, grand in color and size Minho never observed before—a Royal.

Daesung stood before Minho, in nothing but baggy black pants and his black marks crawling around his skin, but his deep brown eyes remained.

Daesung’s wings reclined from their stretch with his eye smile as he reached out for Minho’s shoulder, shaking it like a good friend.

  “You’re happy?” Minho’s brows lifted, “But we haven’t even done anything yet.”

Daesung opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was nothing but air, slowly closing with an apologetic smile.

  “No body, no control, no voice,” Minho sighed, his shoulders dropping, “What more do you have to give up?”

Daesung looked down for only a second before shrugging again, his other hand in the air, fingers writing out white symbols.

I have not given up a single thing.

Minho humorlessly chuckled, “Yeah right, you don’t need to lie to me in front of my face. You’re a part of me, I can feel it.”

Daesung shook his head, Honestly, Minho.

I have given nothing up. I have only made decisions for the time you would exist.

Minho looked at him oddly after reading the text, his hand taking the one off his shoulder, “When I exist?”

You were inevitable, Minho. Of course I would have knowledge of your birth.

When Minho finished reading again, the craziest idea popped up in his head and he screamed, “Don’t tell me that Bom is like, my great great great great great great—” he reiterated the word over and over, “— great grandmother!”

As if Daesung was just an average kid, he outburst in silent laughter, hunched over and wiping his eyes until he could finally shake his head no.

  “Oh good,” Minho sighed in relief, “Because that whole biting thing would’ve been so . . . awkward.”

Daesung sniffed and stood tall again, writing symbols in the air again.

I still know who they are, nonetheless. The blood of your family.

  “Local Daegrents, right? The other Royals among you, right?” Minho swallowed.

Daesung just looked at Minho.

Minho grabbed Daesung, his own marks suddenly crawling around his skin at the contact, “You knew my parents too, didn’t you? You know who they are.”

Minho’s marks violently whipped around his skin but there was no anger within them—he felt urgency. The first step to really knowing who his parents were. Where he was from.

  “Damn it, Your Majesty, you can’t just . . .” Minho let go when Daesung wasn’t responding, losing feeling that Daesung knew anything, “You can’t just bring me into a dream to just . . .” Minho hadn’t noticed Daesung was writing again until he looked up.

Behind you.

Minho froze for a few moments, eyes locked on Daesung.

Behind him.

Behind him.

Behind him.

Minho’s head slowly turned around, still not even ready for what he saw.

The man and woman stood a distance away from the two of them, hand in hand. Their faces merely melted into sentimental smiles at the sight of Minho’s face, both ready to look like they were to cry.

Minho let go of Daesung, slightly stunned but still moved toward the pair to get a good look at them.

These were his parents. They had to be.

Minho immediately noticed the woman had his eyes—or so, he should say he had her eyes. She was accompanied long wavy black hair with one streak of white down one side. She had thick, dark brows and small pale pink lips that curved into a smile. She was dressed in white, but dressed was an overstatement. She wore barely anything but a cover of her chest and bottom—her black marks still, as if being her clothing.

Minho immediately noticed the man had short curly hair such as his—or as he should say the other way around. His eyes were large, but too narrow for Minho to mimic as his own. His lips were just as Minho’s, but slightly lighter in color. He wore just as Daesung had—just as if his marks were his clothing, too.

They both hadn’t looked at day over twenty-two, at most. They seemed too young to have a son that looked like he was their age.

But they were beautiful. And they were truly Minho’s.

  “Mom? Dad?” Minho looked at them with hope.

The woman pointed her finger to the air and Minho broke down as he read.

It’s been a long time, baby.

Minho’s eyes brimmed with tears as he fell to his knees and hunched over in a respective bow to his parents, hiding the fact he didn’t hold back crying in front of them.

It was forever. Forever to Minho. He never knew anything no matter how much he wanted. He never knew what they looked like or how happy they could even seem to be.

And even though Minho was dreaming, this was too real for him.

  “You’re real,” Minho pressed his forehead to the dark floor, “You’re both real.”

Coldness brushed over Minho’s hand and despite looking a mess with red eyes and a slightly running nose, he looked to see his mother’s hand over his own, and yet it wasn’t a physical touch.

But it was enough for Minho just as a feeling.

His mother’s lips quivered a bit as she brushed cold air to his cheek, words appearing from no where beside her.

Don’t cry, please baby?

His father placed his cold hand over his own with a stronger smile, nodding as if Minho did something well.

We’ve waited for Daesung to show us this kindness. Even with our rude goodbye to you.

  “So . . .” Minho wiped his nose, “So many questions, I have,” he switched his gaze between them, “I’m so confused with what you guys did, I don’t understand why . . .”

Another day, his mother wrote. Another day when we have the chance.

  “Why can’t I touch you?” Minho found something to make him cry again, trying to at least touch their faces, “Why are you ghosts?”

His father wrote out, You’re not directly connected to us, right now. You can touch Daesung because he is a part of you. It’s sort of like poking your own shoulder. We’re not inside of you, Minho. We can only be around you. Don’t cry. Soon enough, we’ll be able to do much more, I promise.

  “Mom, you’re so. . .” he reached out to touch cold air, “You’re so pretty . . . Seunghyun never said anything about how pretty you were.”

His father chuckled and gripped his mother’s hand, I got really lucky.

His mother scoffed and hit his father on the chest before returning her hand back to Minho’s.

They kept on like that; Minho speaking as they all wrote.

It was like he was getting to know himself. The two of them were just like him—the pieces that fit to make him who he was. It was like he was getting reacquainted with a past life.

And he wished it would never end, but as soon as a real hand patted his shoulder, he felt sadness wash over him as he felt light headed.

You must awaken, Daesung had written, The bird calls to you.

Minho nodded, but never looked away from his parents, “I don’t even know your real names.”

Both parents carved out their names slowly on the black floor with their finger, never taking their gaze off of Minho. Their smiles continued; the look of sadness never penetrating them.

Minho looked down and read each of their names slowly.

Seohyun.

Yoochun.

Minho looked back to them with a small smile, corrupted with the sadness of their departure so early. They both silently told him not to cry, but to follow their wishes was difficult for Minho. He only got to see his parents for a few minutes and it would never be enough. Twenty-two years without seeing their faces was hard to turn away from.

Goodbye, baby.

Minho slowly opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, left-over tears spilling down the sides of his face.

That was the best dream he would ever have, he thought. And it was more than just a dream. It was actually real.

Minho sat up with a smile on his face now, wiping the water away and getting a look at the bird scampering on the window.

  “Took you long enough,” Minho sniffed and got himself up, leaning on the wall by the window, “You ready to help me out or do you want to circle around the building again?”

The bird oddly hissed and pecked at the ground, scampering closer to Minho, trying to get him to look into its eye.

Minho got closer automatically and let himself be pulled in to being the bird, watching Taemin from the windowsill.

  “It’s so girly,” Taemin laughed to himself, holding something over his hoodie. It was a necklace, Minho saw, but what he was holding, he couldn’t see.

  “I can’t believe he was sappy enough to do that,” he laughed, but it turned into a huff. He turned whatever he was holding and clenched his jaw, examining it over and over again.

The bird scampered over closer and Taemin turned a little, Minho seeing the ring between Taemin’s finger tips.

Minho mentally slapped himself over and over again. He gave Taemin a ring in a necklace because he thought wearing the ring on his finger would be too girly. Apparently it being a necklace was even worse.

But it still hadn’t changed the fact Taemin had somehow retrieved it and held it in his hand. Smiling but then frowning. Laughing and then quiet. It didn’t matter when Taemin’s attitude changed, he was at least happy that Taemin was at first in content.

  “Is that the right answer?” he sighed, sitting on the bed again, “Am I really over this or not?”

The bird squawked loudly, beak tapping on his window lightly and rapidly, demanding Taemin’s attention. The amount of pecking made Minho’s nose hurt.

Taemin sharply looked up to the window, seeing the bird. At first, he did nothing about it, but when the bird kept its persistence, Taemin finally groaned.

  “Okay, okay, whatever you stupid thing,” he groaned and lifted up the window.

The bird slightly scampered in, trying not to startle Taemin.

  “Wanna fly around or something? Be my damn guest, just stop tapping,” Taemin turned around.

The bird squawked again and again until Taemin groaned again and turned around, “What?!”

The bird stood sideways, beckoning Taemin to look into its eyes. Taemin came a little closer, making a small comment about the bird’s eye color before suddenly going frozen.

Minho’s vision disintegrated into a new picture. Suddenly it was of himself.

  “. . . Tae?” Minho whispered.

  “Tae,” he spoke a little louder, “Tae, it’s me. You can hear me, I know you can.”

  “I’m not dangerous,” Minho swore, “Taemin, I’ve never hurt you before, haven’t I? I’ve never . . . I just haven’t, not even that day.” Minho breathed out, hand brushing back his hair, “I never told you because I was, well, I was afraid of you.”

Minho stared at the burnt spot on the table, starting to pick away at it as his wings drooped, “Seunghyun died.”

The woman paused again, her entire fit halting as she softened, bringing her arms around Minho’s body as she pulled his head to her should, “Oh, Minho.”

  “Come on, Minho!” Taemin groaned, his camping backpack forcing him to lean backwards as he hefted it up. He leaned on the heels of his feet as he pointed to their door, “Let’s go already! We were supposed to leave a half hour ago!”

  “This guy—some Intellude—he . . . he was going to kill Taemin if I didn’t change. He was still going to kill him when I did. So I figured . . . I’d fight. I didn’t kill him though, SangJung did. I wasn’t going to hurt Tae, but . . . he kept screaming.”

Jonghyun put his hand on Minho’s shoulder, shaking him a little, “Most humans wouldn’t accept us. I’m sorry for . . . losing him.”

  “No,” Minho cut in, “I didn’t lose him. When they were taking me, he reached out for me. He was getting up to get me. He didn’t . . . he didn’t give up.”

  “It’s the power of the King,” Jonghyun answered instead, “Daesung left his power above the Prophecy for the future heir to take. Daesung and Minji were the only Daegrents who could initiate the Prophecy’s power. Minho needs to take that for himself in order to even try blowing anything up.”

  “You don’t want his power?” Luna asked.

Minho pursed his lips, his face grimacing from his lack of comfort being returning his gaze to Luna, “No. I don’t want the title.”

  “Daesung . . .” Bom whispered, her hand trying to hold on to Minho’s, “I missed you . . .”

  “Do you really . . .” Taemin traveled off, “Do you really not remember what happened?”

His fingers traced the six-inch red lines down both his shoulder blades.

  “No,” Minho lied, “I can’t remember.”

  “I love you,” Taemin whispered, “I seriously won’t ever stop no matter what you do. No matter what, I swear.”

  “Taemin, is that a promise?” Minho asked, strained, “What you said . . . do you swear on it?”

   “I promise, Hyung. I promise.”

  “T-Taemin!”

  “Taemin, I’m not a monster! I love you, I’m not a monster!”

The blurs between each memory stopped back to Taemin as he jumped back from the bird all the way to the wall on the other end.

  “You’re one of them . . .” he breathed, “You . . . you followed us around.”

The bird lightly and quietly squawked, sitting down on the sill and nodding its head down.

Taemin slowly walked back up to the bird, and so hesitantly, held his hand out to it. The bird did nothing as Taemin put it into his palm and looked at the bird as if he had no fear whatsoever.

The bird looked at Taemin again and pressed a small image into his mind.

Minho rubbed his eyes hastily and looked at the bird, standing up and walking to it, “You know I need him, don’t you?”

The bird dipped its head.

  “Help me out,” Minho pleaded, “Just do whatever you did then and do it right now so he could see—”

Taemin jumped a little and blinked, “He’s . . . he’s not bad, is he?” it sounded more like a statement.

The bird dipped its head.

  “Do . . . do me a favor?” Taemin’s brows lifted, “Just . . . go back to him and . . . let him send something? I just . . . I need it to make up my mind.”

The bird slowly stood to keep from startling Taemin, turning around as Taemin put it back on the window before it took flight again.

Minho fell to the floor and wiped his face, unaware he was sweating the entire time.

He smiled like a moron.

  “He’s okay,” Minho laughed out and shook his head, smiling, “He’s perfectly okay. He even wanted me to . . . this is so perfect!”

The bird squawked obnoxiously and Minho got up as quickly as he could.

  “Uh, quick and simple right?” Minho asked, too jittery, “This is gonna be so awkward, oh my god. . . I feel like I’m talking to him for the first time again, oh my god. . . I’m not a teenager, stop that,” he hit himself.

He thought out everything he needed to say in minutes, being careful of what he should or shouldn’t say. Before he knew it he told the bird to start taking note.

  “Alright . . .” Minho began pulling his hair back into a ponytail, looking up to the bird, “Tae? Tae, really, it’s me. The same person you’ve known since day one. Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this, but if you were in my place, and well uh, lived with an like Seunghyun, there was no way to let it out. I was afraid of losing you.

  “I’ve. . . I’ve been a mess without you, Taemin,” he admitted, his brows pulling together and up, “The entire time I’ve been here I’ve been so concerned about you—if you were okay, if you were eating, if you were recovering. This place is awful, Tae, it’s awful no matter how nice Kapsoo or SangJung may be. I want you to leave. To leave with me—with us; my group, well, like my family. We all need to escape, but first I needed you. I needed to know you’d accept me, otherwise, I didn’t want to leave. I just want you to be happy.

  “We can still be happy, I know it,” Minho nodded, slowing down, “All of us. We’ll rid of this place and leave. We can do it, I know we can. I’ve always loved you Tae, there’s no test to it. Believe me,” he begged, “Please . . . just believe me.

  “Alright,” Minho looked down, “I think that’s all I wanted to say for now. Please show him all that?” he looked back up with hopeful eyes.

The bird face Minho directly with a rude holler before flying off far away until Minho couldn’t see it.

  “Please work,” Minho said to himself, “Please work.”

Bom chuckled, The bird was with you everywhere? Maybe your parents knew it and asked to watch over you. You never know.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Minho said.

  “. . . My fur doesn’t make sense?” Jonghyun looked at him funny.

Minho turned his head to Jonghyun quickly and laughed, shaking his head, “Sorry, wasn’t listening. Talking to Bom.”

Jonghyun scoffed, “Thanks. What about, then?”

  “Why that bird would watch over Taemin and I,” Minho shrugged, “She thinks it had to do with my parents, but they’d be able to watch me themselves. Why would they ask a bird? It’s not like it came in handy until now.”

Jonghyun sniffed his foot, “Well didn’t someone know this would happen? They’d know the only way to get the wings was to get through here. Maybe it was a plan set up for the future King.”

Bingo. Jonghyun’s useful again for once in our lives.

  “You became useful again, Hyung,” Minho laughed, “Or so she says.”

  “Yeah? Shut up, Warrant,” Jonghyun cursed at her, “So mean to me. Tell her that.”

Doesn’t he know I can already hear him? Back to square one.

  “What did she say?”

Minho smiled, “Nothing. She’s done with you.”

Jonghyun scoffed, “Yeah right. She can’t get enough of this.”

He can’t get enough of this. I’m not called a star for nothing.

  “No, no, guys stop,” Minho grunted, holding his hands over his ears, “Don’t do this to me, again!”

----Note~----

It's Wednesday omfg.

When do I do that.

Why am I confident.

Anyway. Biggie chapter.

Minho meets his parents, and I had NO IDEA WHAT TO NAME THEM. So there they go. xD

Also BIG IMPORTANCE HERE.

I have another part to Minho dreaming again, but I couldn't make it fit into the chapter because it seemed so abstract. It's not exactly greatly written but this is seriously MANDATORY to read or the next chapter won't make much sense to you.

SO CLICK THIS LINK.

Idk how the hide option works when taken off. Does it make it the last chapter or the chapter it was written to be 'cuz I have two chapter posted before it. (Did that sound confusing?)

Anyhow.

I'm getting back into the groove guys! AP English essay week is over! APUSH essays are over! Probably failed them all but oh well, I want to be back!

By this chapter, there's five chapters left, but I've written one so now there's four for me. ;___;

I'm gonna cry so much after this is done. It's like I let my kids grow up. No more "Writing ETR" routine. I have to start over with something now omfg.

I want to say right now, I'm completely grateful to everyone who embarked on this long journey and still kept up with me to see the end! You've all been great no matter what, I thank you for everything you've done!

With that said, I have maybe around sixteen BTS chapters to start writing before I do another main chapter because I got to get those out before it ends.

Anyway, have a great rest of the week guys!

~FlaMinhoe