“Mm…s-stop…”

“I can’t. Stop struggling.”

“But it hurts,” he panted, turning his face away.

Minho sighed, “We just have to get passed this part and it’ll be fine.” He moved between the black haired boy’s legs, trying to get comfortable.

Sungmin gulped, gazing up at the handsome face hovering above him. “Minho…”

The one in question took a calming breath, shifting a bit, “Yeah?”

He blushed in the dimly lit basement, “You’re making me wet…”

An hour ago…

“Just take a deep breath,” Minho stated, grabbing Sungmin’s wrists and forcing the boy away from the door, “you’re just wasting your strength trying to break down that door.”

The black haired boy frowned. “Well what should we do then?! Do you want to sit around? Maybe have a nice old conversation while munching on some dead rat?”

“What dead rat?” Minho scrambled up to higher ground, eyes darting around the dirty, cold floor.

Sungmin rolled his eyes. “What do you want to do? We’re stuck here.”

“No ,” he muttered, gingerly sitting down on a halfway sturdy crate, “we’ll just have to wait for someone to find us.”

“How can you give up so easily?”

Minho huffed in irritation. “What the hell do you think we can do? We’re locked in a basement inside a locked building without any phone reception. There’s literally nothing we can do but sit around waiting for help.”

“Dammit,” Sungmin growled, kicking the heavy metal door out of pure frustration, “Mir…”

The handsome boy stifled a sigh, realizing how stupid his pessimism was. Of course Sungmin was being impatient because he was worried. What the hell was Minho doing making the situation sound so hopeless?

“You can trust Ryeowook.”

Sungmin stiffened, turning around to fully face Minho. “Huh?”

“I mean,” the latter moved his hands between legs, palms pressing into the wood crate for support, “Ryeowook is a lot more reliable than you give him credit for. You and that guy Kyuhyun are always trying to protect him but he’s not that useless.”

Offense tripped up Sungmin’s features. “Don’t compare me to that Hound and I don’t think Ryeowook is useless. I’ve never thought that.”

Minho raised his hands in surrender, eyebrows arching. “Hey, hey, I’m just saying it like it looks. You may not be similar to Kyuhyun in a lot of ways but the two of you definitely treat Ryeowook the same.” He put up a warning hand to stop Sungmin from cutting in. “Neither of you, whether you admit it or not, has ever given him the chance to prove himself. You don’t have to protect him like some rare bird species. He can take care of himself.”

Sungmin took a slow breath, trying to fight the retorts that burst through his mind. Who was Minho to talk as if he knew Ryeowook better than anyone else? Wasn’t Sungmin his boyfriend? Wasn’t Kyuhyun his oldest friend? What was a stranger like Minho doing mouthing off like that?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sungmin finally said, having settled on the most generic possible reply.

“No, I do,” he shrugged casually, pausing to allow the thunder and lightning to pass before continuing, “Ryeowook was strong back in our first year too. You and Kyuhyun just couldn’t see it.”

“If you’re going to keep talking please stop addressing me and Kyuhyun side by side,” Sungmin remarked, shuddering.

Minho chuckled and nodded. “Well anyway, I’m not joking around. Ryeowook is very possibly the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He smiled, “Seriously, why can’t any of you see beyond the cute, helpless exterior? I could easily name five instances of Ryeowook’s badass behavior.”

“Fine, do it,” the other boy grunted, crossing his arms and taking a seat on a dusty ledge across from the handsome figure.

A smirk crossed his lips at the challenging tone. “Fine, number one,” he raised a finger, “last year his closest friend brutally ended their relationship but Ryeowook got back up and fought to get the friendship back. It didn’t work out but he tried.”

“That’s all perspective!” Sungmin argued, only half convincingly.

Minho simply grinned, tilting his head, “if it’s all perspective then why can’t you see from the perspective where Ryeowook isn’t a damsel in distress? Why can’t you see his strong points?” He pressed a finger to his lips, “Now be quiet and let me finish.”

The boy flushed and looked away, fingers curling into fists.

“Good. Number two, Ryeowook was a raving alcoholic but he pulled it all together and rose to the StudGov presidency in roughly three months. Three, he accepted a rat bastard like Kyuhyun back into his life instead of shunning him like an immature . Second chances are ing hard to give.” Minho gave Sungmin a warning look and the latter shut up, pouting. “Four, he managed to help someone like YoungSaeng find happiness.” He shook his head in awe, breaking into a fresh smile, “You don’t even know what sort of YoungSaeng was up to before Ryeowook came along. He saved him, Sungmin.”

Minho paused before saying the fifth one, seemingly remembering something. “…Five, Ryeowook protected me when that gambling ring set their thugs on us.” He locked eyes with Sungmin briefly before letting his shoulders droop a bit, eyes lowering, “The little guy shielded me when they were beating the out of us. I can’t…I can’t even describe what it was like to have someone, especially someone who barely knew me, put their own life at risk to keep me safe.”

There was a long silence as Sungmin tried to process everything he just heard. Of course he knew about the incident back in their first year but he had never been told about Ryeowook protecting Minho. It just never crossed his mind. Was that the problem? Perhaps he had never thought of Ryeowook as useless, but he had never praised Ryeowook either.

“Do you get my point?” he prompted softly.

Sungmin nodded faintly. “He’s really amazing…huh? How come you’re the only one who sees his shining moments?”

“Because he and I are just friends,” Minho explained casually, “to me he’s not a damsel to rescue. He’s just Ryeowook, the cutest badass I’ve ever met.”

It was probably the weather making him crazy. Yes, it definitely had to be the weather. Sungmin listened to the dripping of rain as it spilled into the basement, quickly darkening and spoiling old furniture and miscellaneous cardboard. “Then what are we?”

Minho’s eyes widened and he staggered back at the question.

“Why would you tell me that it was you, when it was really Jonghyun?” Sungmin’s gaze was steady, heart racing with each spoken word. “Why would you try to protect me?”

“How…”

“It’s not important,” he replied briskly, “just answer me.”

Minho covered his face, trying to hide the heated flush. “…it was for you and Ryeowook, I swear. I thought it would lessen the blow if you thought I attacked you.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sungmin was in front of him in a second, palms slapping either side of his face. The brutalized boy winced at the stinging in his cheeks but otherwise did nothing but let Sungmin lead him. “But I guess I’m thankful,” Sungmin muttered, holding the tall boy’s face up to his, “you really pulled Ryeowook and I back together.”

Outside, the storm was climbing to its peak, more and more water pouring in through the broken window. Shards of glass fell to the concrete, shattering into even smaller pieces.

“What do you mean?” Minho cocked an eyebrow, not in the least complaining at their proximity.

“Nothing,” he smiled slightly, backing up and turning towards the window. “Okay, enough talking. I think I have an idea.” Sungmin stopped underneath the flooded opening, pointing up at it. “Help boost me up and I’ll try climbing out to get help.”

Minho bit back his snarky comments and hopped off the crate to help Sungmin with his faulty plan. At least it was better than watching him try to break down a thick metal door. “Okay,” he kneeled down, locking his palms together, “go.”

In one fluid motion, Sungmin pressed down on the makeshift human ladder, reaching up for the edge of the window…

Present

“Mm…s-stop…”

“I can’t. Stop struggling.”

“But it hurts,” he panted, turning his face away.

Minho sighed, “We just have to get passed this part and it’ll be fine.” He moved between the black haired boy’s legs, trying to get comfortable.

Sungmin gulped, gazing up at the handsome face hovering above him. “Minho…”

The one in question took a calming breath, shifting a bit, “Yeah?”

He blushed in the dimly lit basement, “You’re making me wet…”

Minho snorted, pressing torn sleeve of his shirt against the bleeding cut. “It was your idea to jump for a jagged broken window.” His eyes drifted down to the puddle they were currently sitting in.

“It worked until that damn lightning blinded me,” Sungmin argued weakly.

“And now look,” the other boy muttered, trying to stop the blood flow, “your leg is useless.” A constant stream of scarlet leaked from the inner side of Sungmin’s calf. Minho struggled to keep the leg propped on his thigh, awkwardly juggling the weight.

“Let’s just find something to stop the bleeding.” He picked the boy up carefully, setting him down on one of the higher stacked crates. Minho started rummaging through the piles of garbage and long forgotten equipment, hoping for something similar to a first aid kit.

Sungmin continued applying pressure to the wound, biting his lip at the coming and going stinging. “Sorry…,” he mumbled.

“Don’t’ worry,” Minho replied absently, “put pressure on your forearm too. It’s all torn up.”

“Oh,” he quickly turned his attention to the other cut, abruptly panicking at the realization that he didn’t have enough hands to take care of everything.

A few minutes passed and then Minho was crying out in victory. He smirked at the box of medical supplies as he walked back to Sungmin. The blood had soaked through the makeshift cloth, Minho’s torn sleeve, and was now dribbling down Sungmin’s hand.

“Wow,” the latter’s eyes fluttered in surprise, “that’s lucky.”

“Yeah it is,” he agreed, popping it open and finding proper sanitizing wipes and a nearly expired bottle of rubbing alcohol. “This might sting a little,” Minho warned before pouring some of the clear liquid onto a towel.

Sungmin bit down on his lip, trying to ignore the stinging. It had been ages since he was taken care of like such a little kid. Martial arts rarely ended in bleeding wounds, plenty of bruises and broken bones were dealt but lacerations were a totally different thing.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured, bandaging the wound before moving on to do the same cleaning and dressing of Sungmin’s arm.

In the meantime, the black haired boy peered out at the darkening sky, large raindrops blurring the world. “We’re not leaving tonight are we?” he mumbled.

Minho didn’t answer.