“Okay, okay, for the thousandth time,” he sighed, “No one’s coming in here.”

Minho fidgeted, his eyes continuously flittering to the door, just waiting for someone to pop in. He couldn’t trust anyone outside—he hardly trusted this guy, but if he was going to tell him about Taemin, he had to let it go.

  “Hey,” the guy shoved at his bare shoulder good naturedly, “Believe me, if I knew someone would be coming, I wouldn’t stay and wager my life, to be honest. Can I go on?”

Minho wanted no more than to move on, to talk, but the distraction of getting caught stuck to him, and he was afraid he’d get them both in heaps of trouble neither of them would ever want.

  “Why won’t they come?” Minho asked, trying to reassure himself.

The guy smiled, rubbing his shoulder, “I know a guy.”

Minho squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, swiping a hand across his eyes before he could claim himself as calm, “Okay, Okay.”

  “Good,” the other smiled widely, patting Minho’s shoulder, “Now—”

  “About Taemin.”

The guy kept up his smile, nodding his head, continuing to pat his shoulder as if he were a good little brother, “Please don’t be disappointed when I say I didn’t see him, but heard. I wanted nothing more but to see him, I tell you.”

Minho quickly shook his head, inching closer to the man, getting eager about Taemin’s wellbeing, “Please tell me everything you know.”

  “He’s okay, to say the most,” he started out, “But you know he has to be scared of what he saw. Even the toughest men here get scared of these things—I, I didn’t mean to call you thing! No, I meant like . . . um, like, how it all happened! I swear I didn’t mean it the other way!”

Minho slightly smiled at the man’s overcautious behavior and shook his head again, looking him in the eyes with a small eye smile, “I get what you mean. Go on.”

The man, relieved, settled himself before taking his hand away and joining it with his other hand, “I mean, he’s not just afraid of you transforming or you and the Intellude fighting, but the Intellude threatening him—I mean, am I right? You did mention that before, slash, it was kind of obvious. And also just . . . watching a being die right in front of his eyes.

  “Kapsoo said he hadn’t spoken a word on the way back to Namwon. Taemin couldn’t even manage to make it half a step through his house’s front door. Kapsoo couldn’t even push him in.”

Minho turned rigid. The apartment he and Taemin lived in and Taemin couldn’t even take a step inside anymore. He felt incredibly sick to his stomach because of what this has done to him. If only he kept control, if only Taemin had kept his eyes shut . . .

  “As of now, Taemin’s still in Namwon, but it’s rumored he should be coming here at some point. Kapsoo said he was a boy who . . .” the man’s eyes slightly turned somber, “. . . Who couldn’t let go, but held on to everything tightly. Kapsoo . . . he wants to do his best to ‘help’ Taemin. But you don’t want that.”

Minho furrowed his brows, staring at the man in confusion as to how the guy thinks he wouldn’t want Taemin relieved of worry or fear, “Why not?”

The man looked down, toying with his hands before his lips parted, “They’ll rid you of his memories. They’ll make him forget.”

Minho instantly jumped up, eyes bugging out, his skin getting uncomfortably tight, something erupting in his chest, and it was unsettling, “N-no! Tae can’t! They . . . They can’t!”

  “H-hey!” the guy yelled, jumping further away from Minho, “Control yourself! You’ve got white pulsing off your skin! Don’t get upset now! Calm down!”

Think of a tree and be its healing roots. . .

Minho shook violently, forcing himself to stop the beast within, containing the white fury that played on they tips of his fingers. No, he couldn’t lose himself now. Not yet. This wasn’t even close to the time he should.

Think of a tree and be its healing roots. . .

He still had time. He could stop this one way or another. He could change this.

Yet again . . . maybe Taemin wanted to forget. Maybe this was too much of burden for him to live with. Being without Minho could help him live easier, to forget their relationship, to forget their time spent together.

And for Minho, it’d be a shame he wouldn’t be able to see his blond boy again.

  “Ah . . .” Minho held his head, feeling a headache arising and pulsing, “I didn’t do it right this time.  Damn it . . . Ah . . .”

The man on the mattress sighed, “I see you’ve got a headache.”

  “, it really hurts this time,” Minho felt cold again, sitting back down and leaning on the wall, “I lost my cool way too quick.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t become a fireball so suddenly ever again or I might have to stun you,” the man teased, even though it was a wrong time to do so, Minho still found humor in it.

  “I guess you’ll need sleep now; I can come back sometime when my shift switches,” he said, slightly getting off the mattress, “A-Actually, I know a way to get rid of—well, minimize—your headache. If you’d like me to . . .”

Minho didn’t even open his eyes, “Please tell me you aren’t going to trick me, now.”

  “No,” he solemnly swore, “I really know a method. And you need sleep before SangJung makes it a hard day for you. It might even help you sleep, for all I know.”

Minho wanted to hit himself for not calming down correctly; the way Seunghyun always taught him how to do and learned to never fail.

Think of a tree and be its healing roots.

Minho accidentally thought of a tree catching fire instead.

And now, of all times, of all places, he decided to screw up the technique and add to his list of problems.

  “Knock yourself out.”

The man chuckled, “I might knock you out.”

  “Just don’t get all touchy-feely with me. I don’t like being ,” Minho added, at the moment, not sure if he was joking or being serious.

  “Oh darn, my plan has been foiled,” the man sarcastically remarked, “Get off the wall and face your back to me.”

Minho followed his instructions, smiling just a bit, “Now it really sounds like—”

  “Shut up,” he laughed, “And tilt your head down.”

It seemed they were too close in what could’ve been a friendship in such little time. It felt wrong in so many ways for Minho, but laying on top of that feeling . . . it just felt like it should make sense. Like he was meant to know him. Like he did know him.

Minho tilted his head down, letting the man’s hands place to the sides of his head, his thumbs press to the two dips below his skull and above his neck, gently rolling his thumbs in circles.

  “You’re going to feel pressure,” he warned, “But once I let go, it feels like weight came off your shoulders.”

Minho hummed, barely paying attention to the words, his focus on his thumbs, the pressure slightly building in his head. It felt odd, suffocating almost; like his head was being closed in. But he could feel less and less of the strikes of pain to his forehead, and that’s all he cared for.

  “What’s your name?” Minho sighed out, indeed feeling sleepy like the man warned before.

  “O-Onew,” he stuttered, “I’m Onew. Soldier two-thousand-and-fourteen to SangJung, unfortunately.”

  “Onew . . .” Minho tasted the words, ending up in a garbled mess as he became more and more hazy, “I need Taemin. I need . . . to keep him . . . safe. You know what I . . . mean? Safe . . . That’s what I want for him, Onew. All . . . I want.”

The gentle thumb kneads grew softer and smaller in rotation, the rest of Onew’s hands letting go of his head, “I hear you, Minho. I get it. I get what you want. It’ll happen somehow, I promise.”

The thumbs disconnected from Minho’s head and he felt this large wave of pressure descend from him, no longer present, no longer any pain.

Haze and sleepiness. That’s what there was.

  “You’ve been sleeping without a blanket,” Onew sighed disapprovingly, “You never even looked close enough at the mattress. It has a zipper to the inside. It’s full of blankets. Lie down, Minho.”

Minho obeyed the order, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. He could hear an actual zip through his ears, and the mattress lifted up a little bit.

Then he felt warmth and softness.

Like Taemin.

Onew wrapped the blanket around him as if he were a toddler, taking special care to cover his feet and shoulders.

  “Taemin,” Minho sighed out.

  “We’ll fix it, Minho,” Onew responded, patting his hair, “Taemin will do just fine. He’s a strong man, I know.”

Minho didn’t even let himself stay awake to answer him.

----Note~----

Hi. c:

More or so, this was a filler, sorry about that. >.>

I just think Onew's introduction should've had it's own chapter. I swear these'll be longer again.

I only aim for chapters to be six pages, because I think people would lose interest if I do my usual twelve. 

I wanted to say I'd upate tomorrow too, but I don't have many written chapters left, and I need to work on those, so yeah, a short one this week. :\

I have nothing much to say, so yup. Hope you have a nice weekend.

Thank you to all views, comments, and subs. <3

~FlaMinhoe