I had severe writer's block this week >.< So, this chapter might not be as good as the others... Here's a flashback for you all!

All of the sarangs, Drg-lee

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            Minho strolled back to his home, his hands in his trench coat pocket and his feet moving daintily across the asphalt. The excursion with Taemin had been fun, he remarked. Before embarking on the date, he was afraid this would be a replay of what had occurred last time. He shivered, and it wasn’t clear if it was from relief or the intense wind that enveloped him in its grip.
            He to his block, and for once was incredibly thankful that their home stood in the third place from the corner. He gritted his teeth against the fierce wind and jogged up the stairs. Fumbling with the coat and his green cotton and leather gloves, Minho managed to insert the key into the lock and burst into his own home.
            Minki spun on the couch, turning to face his brother. “Hi, hyung! How was it?”
            Minho bent down to take his shoes off. “It was great,”. His right shoe came off. “I asked Taemin to hang out again soon.” His left shoe hit the floor and he arranged them side by side.
            Minki nodded and shot him a thumbs up. “Tell Onew hyung!”
            “I will. And you,” He gave Minki a stern look and glanced at his watch. “Go to bed. I’ll be there in a moment.”
            Minki obliged and ran off into the brothers’ shared room, leaving Minho to approach Onew’s room and walk in without consideration for his hyung’s privacy and without knocking.
            Onew startled and quickly pushed the papers he held into a box, leaving just a glimpse of a woman for Minho to see.
            “Hyung, whatcha got there?” Minho teased, reaching for the box. Onew pulled it away and pushed the box under his bed. Minho raised an eyebrow curiously. “Lemme see,” He whined, walking closer to Onew, who sat childishly on the ground.
            “Nothing, Minho,” Onew responded. He crossed his legs. “How was your event with Taemin?”
            Minho sat down and leaned against the wall. “It was a lot better this time. Taemin didn’t cry,”
            Onew nodded understandingly. “That’s lovely,” He huffed. “Did you have fun?”
            “Yeah, I did. Taemin’s a good kid. He’s funny.”
            “He’s a kid?” Onew knew of Taemin’s feelings towards Minho, and dejectedly asked this question.
            “Yeah, I guess. He’s fifteen,” Minho said.
            “You’re sixteen,” Onew quipped. “You’re not that much older, Min-min.”
            Minho’s head shot up and he made eye contact with the older man. “What did you call me?”
            Onew swallowed. . “Min-min,” He stated nonchalantly.
            Minho looked down at the carpet and drew a line slowly. “That’s what my mum used to call me,”
            Onew smiled. “It’s a cute name for a cute kid,” He ruffled Minho’s hair. “How about you get to bed? It’s late.”
            Minho returned the smile, a toothy grin plastered on his face. “Okay, hyung. Good night” He stood up and began to leave the room. “Hyung?”
            Onew looked up. “Yeah?”
            “I love you.”
            “I love you, too, Min-min,”
            Once Minho left the room, Onew pulled the memories out of the box again, sorting them back. Ever since Minho entered his household, he felt even stronger feelings for Minho’s mother. He missed her more and more. He saw the same things that Katherine did in Minho. The way Minho smiled was exactly like his mother’s. Minho’s food preference, noodles, was the same.
            Interactions with Minho started to pain Onew, who bared it without showing anything. Once done sorting, Onew closed the box, found a new place to hide it, and snuggled into bed.
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            “Jinki,” she began, pushing my hands away. “This relationship isn’t going to work.”
            “Why, Kate? I’ve done everything I can. How can I make you happy?” I asked, tears stinging my eyes.
            “I know. I just won’t be happy...” She paused and looked away from me, turning around. “Jinki, I’m going home.”
            “I’ll drive you,” I offered, stretching my hand out.
            “No. You... you can’t. I mean home home. I’m going back to England.”
            I nearly fell over. “Katherine, please don’t go. I’ll do anything for you!” I pleaded.
            “I’m sorry, Jinki. I’m so sorry.”
            I begged her and grabbed her arm. “Please! Please don’t go!”
            She pulled away, “Bye, Jinki.” I watched her walk away.
            It was about a week when I found it. I had wallowed in self-pity for such a long time, moping around my apartment, everything around me reminding me of my beloved Kate. I found it lying behind a picture of her and I. At first, I figured it must have been a hallucination. How would she have left me such a prize without me noticing? I grasped it as if it was a lifesaver, thrown into a pool of depression and self-loathing.
            My eyes glazed over as I read the words. She was married? She had a son? My heart burst in agony, burning my throat, stinging my eyes, and heating my face. How could she have lied so well to me? As the week went on, the sharp pain above my chest decreased into an ever present dull cramp, threatening to surge and brings me down. Is this was they called heartbreak?
            I was so overwhelmed with the desire to see Katherine that I spent all my money on a flight to England, all my money on a hotel room. I needed to see her. Even if it was just a glimpse, I wanted to see Katherine. When I finally arrived after a long flight and connecting airports, I realised I did not know where she was. London, a vast city of eight million, could contain my love.
            Something made me walk along the River Thames. Katherine loved rivers. Most of our memories, both good and bad were near rivers. I tossed stones into the water, thinking of all the things I missed. I reached into my pocket and threw the ring I would have given Kate today if she had not left me. I wanted to make her my wife; I wanted to father her children. But she was already ceremoniously bound to another man, already the mother of a little boy named Minho.
            I sighed and glanced to my left. To my shock, there she was. She wore a bright yellow sundress, a straw hat placed firmly on her golden hair. Her hand was intertwined with another, smaller hand. That must be Minho. I observed the two for hours, following behind them slowly, watching how Katherine handled her son.
            It was at that moment that I decided I would keep my promise. That little boy, that Choi Minho, the son of Katherine, I would protect him as if he were my own. And so, when I saw him at his school’s playground the next few days, I introduced myself as Onew.