The next day I went to the hospital again, only this time, I promised my mother to go after school. I wanted to protest, but I really need to attend school, don't I?

It was really difficult to get Key off of my case. He was worried because I didn't attend the morning lessons the other day and he was furious when I told him I couldn't go with him after school today, because my umma asked me to go somewhere for her. The guilt was starting to eat away at me. I was telling my friends lie after lie. I didn't want to end up being killed by Key. Amber wouldn't be happy either. Luckily Donghae and Leeteuk would be too busy with each other. Joon wouldn't care that much about me lying to him, too. After all, it wouldn't be that bad after I told them I lied. Aaaaaagh, but Key...

Before I knew it I was standing in front of Minho's room.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” I said, entering the room with caution. There was no answer, so I walked in further. “Choi Minho-shi, are you awake?”

The room was empty except for Minho, who was laying in his bed silently. I frowned a little when I noticed he was awake, but what was I expecting? I sat down at the chair next to his bed, the same place I had been sitting yesterday.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked, receiving no answer. If he wanted to play it like that, I wouldn't tell him that umma payed his hospital bill. “Hey, I was thinking,” I started again, “the doctor told me you have two younger siblings.”

No movement at all.

“They couldn't find out where they live, so I thought that you three might have been living together without adult supervision.”

I was seriously worried about this, so it irritated me that Minho wasn't reacting as I had hoped. Lying there silently, pissing me of! “If so, your siblings are home alone right know, aren't they? That's the reason you didn't want to go to the hospital, wasn't it?”

I sounded too hopeful, didn't I?

Suddenly Minho turned his head in my direction, but he didn't have the look on his face I had expected. Honestly, I didn't even know what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting his glare. He was angry, but he was still not moving his tongue. I dared to talk again after I noticed he wasn't going to say anything.

“I won't tell, okay,” I said, trying to calm him down. He obviously didn't believe me. “You know, if you hadn't reacted at all, I would have thought my assumption was false,” I told him. Now I was trying to get a reaction. And it worked. Minho's expression when I said that was priceless. The realisation was clearly shown on his face, it was too funny.

“I just want to help you,” I said seriously, locking his gaze with mine. “It's obvious that they don't know where you are. Someone needs to tell them you are okay. I want to do that for you. The doctors don't need to know.”

Silence, again. I was beginning to think that he really became mute when he finally, finally opened his mouth.

“Promise me.” His voice was raspy, but it had some superiority in them. He sounded like an adult telling someone something really important.

“Promise?” My voice came out as a hoarse whisper. I was to exited that I got him to talk.

“That you won't talk to anyone about this,” Minho said.

I nodded fervently. I wondered where my voice from just now went. I felt bewitched, as if what I was encountering right now was some sort of fairy tale, a once in a life time experience. The angel was talking.

Minho pushed himself up on the hospital bed, so he could sit straight, and pulled his leg out of the hammock. “Give me some paper and a pen,” he ordered.

“Huh?” I was really surprised by his demanding tone. He was sick, wasn't he? Just now his voice sounded raspy and all. And was it alright for him to pull out his leg from that hammock thing?

“I need to write on something,” he said. He held the arm attached to the unbroken shoulder out to me.

I couldn't wrap my mind around what that boy was pulling. It seemed strange to me. Somewhere along the way my mind produced an image of the boy and that image didn't fit the boy in front of me, who was holding his hand up, waiting with big questioning eyes. I stood up on auto pilot and got what he asked for, but didn't give it to him.

“I'll write,” I said, casting a meaningful glance at the casts around his left wrists and right shoulder.

Minho nodded in agreement.

“I'll tell you the address,” he said. Now, the demanding voice was gone, only the low beat of it was left. I really liked it, that voice. “...street, number 48. If all is well, they will be there.”

I wrote it down quickly.

“You can't tell them where I am,” Minho said.

I looked up at him, trying to catch his gaze, but he was looking away now.

“Please, make sure that they are okay and tell them that I will come home soon.” His voice became lower as he was talking. “And don't tell anyone. Nobody can know where we live. I want to know if they are eating well and if anybody is bothering them. I can't ask more from you.”

I wanted to ask. Why couldn't anybody know? What was the thing he was so scared of? I didn't. “You can,” I said. “You can ask more. I want to do something for them.”

“Why?” Minho asked. This time he did look my way and it made me feel a little happier.

“Because we became friends yesterday,” I said, not even caring how stupid I sounded right know. “I told you a lot about me yesterday. You know a lot about me now. I even began referring to you by your first name in my head. I can say we are friends, and friends help each other out.”

Minho's eyes became big. He was watching me with disbelief, even shock maybe. But the surprised look disappeared quicker than I wanted it to. Instead, it became mockery.

“You thought I was listening?” he said, like I had told a funny joke. “Why should I listen to your happy-go-lucky rambling? You started to call me by my first name in your mind? What a joke. Normally you would only do that when the other person agreed. Are you living in your own fantasy world or something? Why don't you leave it in your head!? Don't get others involved in your fairy tale.”

Fantasy. He said it was a fantasy. Maybe it was. I lifted my hands up to brush them through my hair but they stopped at my eyes to wipe away the tears that where forming there. Tears? What were those stupid things doing there?

“I'll leave.” I stood up from my chair. My mind was blank, confused. I couldn't think well. Why did his words effect me so much?

“Wait, one thing,” Minho called, just before I wanted to open the door. I didn't move around, but he didn't seem to mind because he went on talking. “There is a loose board underneath my bed. Underneath it are my savings. Please tell them to use it to survive until I come back.”

I didn't know any more. I didn't want to know. I opened the door and left. What the hell happened!? I got what I wanted, so why did it feel like I failed?

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