“Is this your way of de-stressing?”

He half shrugged, half nodded. “You can say that.”

“Why?”

“Watch,” he instructed with a smirk before taking his stand, arms in position, hands gripping the bat, eyes focused. His smile immediately vanished, replaced by that serious look he always wears during practice sessions complete with furrowed brows. Then the ball came, so fast it almost seemed like a blur. He swung the bat and it hit the ball hard, producing a loud sound of cork against aluminum, and the ball flew high before being caught by the net surrounding the place.

My eyes widened and my mouth cracked opened in amazement, and closed it when he turned around. “Wow,” I blurted out.

“Cool, huh?” he asked, a grin plastered across his face.

“Not bad,” I commented cheekily and smiled in return. “I didn’t know you can play baseball.”

“I can’t really play the game, actually. Only the batting.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Not that often. Just when I’m feeling upset, or angry,” he explained. Another ball shot past behind him, but he ignored it. “I used to come here with my brother.”

“Used to?”

“When we were younger,” he said, then added with a rather bitter smile. “Closer.”

I remembered vaguely Minho telling me that he didn’t get along well with his brother, but I assumed they were never that close. I stared at him as he prepared for another ball, and wondered whether I should ask.

“Hey,” he called, snapping me out of my trance. “Want to give it a try?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know how to play.”

“That’s alright,” he smiled as he handed me the bat. “I’ll teach you.”

When I didn’t respond, he grabbed my hand, pulled me over and made me stand right where he stood earlier. My body froze and my brain stopped working instantly. “Take this,” he instructed, and I obediently followed his words. I waited for the ball to come, and when it did, I swayed the bat the way he did, but failed to make contact.

“I’m no―”

Before I could finish my sentence, my arms felt heavy and he suddenly was right behind me, causing me to forget breathing. I felt his hands burning a hole into my skin as he tried to show me the right position. “Lift your right arm a little bit―like this,” he explained, before taking few steps backwards. “Eyes on the target, and swing when you’re ready.”

I tried to come back to my senses and did as told, and, miraculously, I managed to hit the ball. Overjoyed, I dropped the bat and raised both my hands victoriously in between jumping to celebrate. Minho gave me a high five while grinning proudly, and for a moment I forgot everything else.

“It feels great right?” he asked, beaming.

“Very,” I agreed.

“This is exactly why I come here. That feeling when you hit the ball with all your might and watch it fly away, it’s something that not even basketball can bring.”

There was a feeling of happiness deep inside me, knowing the fact that it was a piece of him that he decided to share with me. I looked at him then, a smile carved on my lips. “So why did you think I’m in need of de-stressing?”

He chuckled a bit at my question. “Because for reasons you refuse to say, you were angry at me.”

“I was not angry!”

“You’re angry now,” he teased, and we both laughed.

Seeing the sky the soon we stepped out from the batting cage, it hit me then that hours had passed since we left our school. I fished my phone out from the front pocket of my bag to know the time, and to my horror, there were at least a dozen of missed calls from Jongin.

“Are you hun―”

“Wait,” I told him as I pressed the phone against my ear. Jongin picked up on the first ring, making me wonder if he had been staring at the screen all these while.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut in before I could even begin. “Where are you?!” he shot, his voice mixed with anxiety and fear. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say in return.

There was a silence where I could hear his unsteady breathing. Then, quietly he muttered, “You forgot so quickly.”

I didn’t know what I should say to him, or if there was even anything to say. I stood there helplessly, kicking some tiny stones on the asphalt while Minho just stared at me. Before I could think of a reply, I heard a click right after Jongin’s soft “hurry come home”.

“I’ll walk you,” Minho offered once I told him that I should head home. “After all it’s my fault.”

-

Jongin was standing in front of the house when I arrived, kicking the dried fallen leaves on the ground using the tip of his slipper, both his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He looked up, gaze flicking from the browns to me and to Minho.

Minho bowed a little, and before he could speak, Jongin took my hand and interrupted him. “Thanks for walking her,” he mumbled. Without another word, he turned and pulled me inside, and slammed the door behind us. “Don’t do this again,” he said, dropping my hand, and walked to his room.