Wahhh, isn't this good? I've updated twice in one day to make up for the lack I'll be doing for the next few weeks. I thank you faithful subbies ^^ All of my sarangs go to you~ And I can't reveal Minho's situation just yet, but keep reading to see what's up with him (and Taemin!!) Love you guys~ Hwaiting!

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Minho coughed before responding. “Y-yes?”

                “Is that you?” Taemin asked, letting his hand drop to his side. “Are you sick, hyung? Do you need to go home?”

                Minho shivered at the thought of going home before school was over. He wiped his face with a handkerchief, flushed the toilet and opened the door. “No, I’m fine,” he lied, going over to the sink.

                “Are you sure, hyung? You didn’t sound okay…”

                So Taemin had heard. Minho would lie again, “I’m not used to the food yet.” That was a complete lie, he’d eaten Korean food all of his life.

                Taemin seemed to accept this answer and watched as Minho washed his hands.

                “Hyung…” he began, and when Minho looked up, he finished his sentence shyly. “You’re really good looking, hyung.”

                Minho’s eyes opened wide. It had been so many years since anyone had complimented him that it took him a while to respond.

                Taemin’s face flushed a deep red. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m not gay or anything”

                Minho nodded and croaked out a reply. “Thank you,” Then he left Taemin standing in the bathroom stammering over his words.

                He finally went home after classes. He was glad because it was Tuesday and father wasn’t home until late. If he could get to bed before his father got home, he’d be pretty happy.

                His mother wasn’t home either, so he grabbed a piece of bread and jam and headed to his room. Dumping the contents of his bag onto his bed, he searched for the directions to his little brother’s school. Finding it, he tacked it to his wall, simply so he wouldn’t forget to grab it on the way out. (Minho is quite a forgetful person sometimes).

                He hummed to himself, starting on his math homework and finishing most of it before his alarm went off. So he got up, grabbed an umbrella and his little brother’s rain coat and left the house.

                He was about to cross the street when he realised he forgot the paper anyway. He cursed under his breath and ran back home, knowing now he would be late.

                Minki stood in front of his classroom, rubbing his eyes. Everyone else was picked up, so why wasn’t he? Where was his hyung?

                Meanwhile, Minho was practically running to the school, dodging children, hoping he wasn’t too late to pick Minki up, and hoping Minki hadn’t decided to try to walk home by himself. Minho finally got there, out of breath, and smiled a huge sigh of relief as he saw the seven year old sitting in the sand, playing with a stick.

                “Minki-ya,” he called and his heart swelled when Minki ran to him, his head only reaching Minho’s stomach. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, glad that he was able to switch from his awkward Korean into his smooth English.

                Minki pouted. “Everyone else got picked up already!”

                “I know that, I’m sorry. Mianhae, Minki.” He ruffled Minki’s hair. Minki accepted his apology, and helped his brother ease him into his raincoat. Hand in hand, Minho and Minki walked home.

                Minki was the only person that Minho loved in the world. Minho liked his mother enough, but he wasn’t completely sure it was love. Minki was born when Minho was 9 years old. He was Minki’s half-brother, and they were related by their father. Minho remembered everything about the boy, down to his shirt size and favourite foods.  He rocked him to sleep at night and made him his favourite breakfast every day.

                Minki knew Minho loved him greatly. He loved Minho, too, but he certainly didn’t think of Minho as first. Minho was third to Minki, after his mother and his father. He’d even told Minho this, stating he only loved Minho 3%. He didn’t understand percentages at that age, but it broke Minho’s heart to know that his baby brother didn’t love him the way he did. He never treated Minki any differently, because he still loved him 100%.

                They arrived home and Minki ran up to his room, preparing for a shower. Minho laughed at the retreating form, spying a letter on the dining table. He hadn’t noticed it before and so he walked to it, seeing his step-mother’s mechanical handwriting.

Minho-ssi,

Please cook Minki some mac and cheese. Don’t eat any of it, your father will be upset. Take good care of yourselves and I’ll be home tomorrow.

Love,

Mom.

                Minho was extremely disappointed that she wouldn’t be home; His father was always more rational when she was around and he was usually allowed to eat some dinner when she was here. Minho sighed and began cooking the dinner for his brother and father.

                He just wanted a small taste. He looked around cautiously before slowly putting the spoon in his mouth, savouring the flavour. His eyes were closed and he imagined a blissful peace in front of him.

                “What are you doing?” He heard a deep booming voice behind him. Minho immediately dropped the spoon into the pot, backing away against a wall.

                “Father…”