//Minseok//

Sooner rather than later, my parents had booked a flight home. I hadn't expected them to stay in England for long: after all, they are sun people rather than rain people. And it did rain solidly for like, a whole day.
But I didn't expect the day of the flight to come this quickly. My parents just took me aside and told me suddenly "Minseok, we're going home tomorrow." 
Like, great. Thanks for giving me time to adjust to the fact that I'll have to say goodbye to Jongdae for what could be months. I know they don't know I'm dating him - hell, they don't even know I'm gay - but they can't be so blind to the fact that leaving Jongdae is going to hurt me at least a little bit.
And who am I kidding. It's going to hurt like hell.
I'm sure everyone can see the little grey cloud floating around above my head as I go around for the rest of my stay here. 
Packing is a slow and laborious task; before it was hurried because I wanted to see Jongdae, but now I'm taking my time to make it feel like it'll be longer till I leave.
Jongdae spends every living second glued to my side: he literally follows me everywhere except the bathroom, and as soon as I leave there he almost tackles me to the floor in a hug anyway.
I pretend to complain and fake pain, but in reality, I'm relishing the affection and setting it as a memory. It's the little things like this, and the secret smiles and glances over the dinner table. 
I think his Mom knows. I've seen her smiling fondly at him several times, and she sends knowing glances his way when he's talking to me. She's a gift, Jongdae's Mom.
"Minseokie~" Jongdae calls. "Have you got everything?" he asks, tugging on the stiff zip of my suitcase to close it.
I nod. "There's only one thing left to pack." I admit, tracing a slow pattern on the back of Jongdae's pale, slender hand.
"What's that? Where have you left it? Shall I get it for you?" Jongdae says eagerly, eyes searching his room for the mystery item. 
I laugh at him. "It's right in front of me. About yay high," I gesture at Jongdae's height. "Nice cheekbones and brown eyes. Very precious to me."
Jongdae's expression softens as he realises what I'm talking about. Him.
"Oh, Minnie," he murmurs, cupping my face in his hands. His thumb brushes just under my eye and I lean into his touch. "I'd come if I could."
There's not even room for him to joke about this. Jongdae has been so strong about this, so strong for me, but it's not hard to see the sadness in his eyes. The spark in his eyes is there, but the flame isn't catching. 
I groan at myself as a tear slips from my eye, and wipe it away hurriedly. I sniff defiantly. "Ah, why do I cry so much?" I say, trying to laugh it off.
Jongdae sighs. "It's okay to cry, baby. I'm here for you. You can cry. Cry it all out." 
I nod weakly. "How come you haven't cried then?" 
Jongdae blinks. "Who told you I haven't cried? Of course I've cried." 
He tucks my face into his neck, caressing my hair lovingly. My hands rest on his hips automatically, the feel of them under my fingertips becoming something as familiar to me as my own face.
The silence of his room and the calmness of his touch soothe me. I can feel the gentle heat of the sun coming through the window on my back, and think back to the other day after the funeral when we sat in the silence and I could feel the heat of the sun then too. It's becoming a very calming scenario for me.
"All good?" Jongdae asks, rubbing the remnants of tears off my cheeks as I move away. 
I nod determinedly. "Yeah. Think so," I yank my suitcase off Jongdae's bed and stand it upright. "This is your last chance to get in." I gesture at the already bulging suitcase, and Jongdae sighs.
"If only, baby."
I nod and pull up the handle to drag it out of Jongdae's room. 
Dad smiles gruffly at the bottom of the stairs. "Got everything, son?" he asks, reaching for the handle of my suitcase. 
I swallow. "Yeah." I manage to whisper without my voice wobbling. I think Dad can still tell something's up though, because he frowns in confusion at me before turning on his heel and dragging the suitcase to the front door. 
Jongdae hangs back by his bedroom door, and I turn back to look at him hopefully. "Will you accompany us to the airport again?" I ask, pouting.
Jongdae smiles in defeat. "How could I ever say no to that face?" he says, coming forward and tapping my nose teasingly. "Of course I will. Let me get my shoes." 
Although our plane doesn't leave for quite a few hours, we have to leave as soon as possible. The train journey simply to get into London will take at least an hour, then we have to get on the underground and then we have to hang around in the airport for a while before getting on our flight. The process is all very tiring and I'm not looking forward to it. I've never been fond of airports anyway. 
"Mum!" Jongdae calls as he pulls on a pair of dirty white sneakers. "I'm going to the airport with Minnie!" 
I blush at his abundant use of my nickname. It makes me smile every time he uses it in front of other people: it makes me feel special, makes me feel like he wants me. Like I'm his.
"Huh? Oh, yes, of course. Make sure to come straight back, though? And be safe!" she calls after us as Jongdae waves in acknowledgment and shuts the door behind us.
Mom smiles at him before linking hands with Dad and starting off down the street. Making sure they're not going to look back, I boldly put my hand in Jongdae's, and he squeezes my hand with a grin on his face.
Swinging our hands between us and dragging my case behind me, I speak up. "Your Mom really cares about you, doesn't she?" 
Jongdae hums. "Yeah, I guess. It's annoying sometimes, but it's nice to know she wouldn't be happy if something bad happened to me." he remarks, running his fingers along the wooden slats of someone's garden fence with an absentminded and dreamy look on his face. I have a sudden urge to take a picture of him, and snap one on my phone before he can look up.
Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I sigh. "Can't say I could say the same about my parents."
Jongdae scoffs. "That's not true."
"I guess Mom cares," I muse. "But I don't think Dad could give a ." 
"You might think that," Jongdae pauses, staring at Mom and Dad ahead of us. Mom is laughing at Dad, who has his equivalent of a grin on his face. "But I'm sure he would care. You're his son. Of course he cares." Jongdae points out, and I shrug.
"Sure. He definitely prefers Junmyeon to me though, and he's not even Dad's real son. He's his step son." I sigh, wondering what the appeal about an emotion-dead person like Junmyeon is. 
Jongdae doesn't reply, simply shakes his head in what I can only interpret as disbelief. 
"Boys, is this the train station?" Mom calls, gesturing to a large building with a clock sat in the centre. It's built from stone, with some old fashioned elaborate carved work along the edge of the roof. 
Jongdae nods, and we climb the few steps before entering the station. 
It's relatively quiet, and we manage to buy our tickets and get to the platform quickly.
The train rolls into the platform soon and we hop on, stowing our cases in the rack and throwing ourselves down in the nearest booth of seats. Where I had previously r