This is sort of a filler. I hope you enjoy it! Angsttttt yo

Time seemed to be moving slowly for Minho as he wandered around the house alone, his socked feet dragged on the polished wood and his messy hair scratching his eyes, forcing him to flip his hair every five seconds. He was sure it would cause some sort of extreme nerve damage for his neck to be constantly moving that way, but everyone else knew the most he could get was mild whiplash, and even then, that seemed to be impossible.

            His muscles ached from underuse, and he reached to massage the screaming trapezius on his back. He had started going to the gym a few months ago, and although he hadn’t gained any muscle because of his terrible I-don’t-eat-anything-but-Cheerios diet at first, he gradually saw his body changing from a bruised and scarred stick to a bruised and scarred slab of meat and bones and skin. This made him happier, or it at least seemed to make him happy, but these last few days, Minho had sulked around, slept hours upon hours and returned to his I-don’t-eat-anything-but-Cheerios diet. But now he didn’t even eat Cheerios.

            Onew hadn’t noticed the change because he was occupied at work with his bills and papers, staples and paperclips and he was too busy to notice Minho’s problems anymore. And now he was also concerned with Minki, who woke up screaming in the nights, covered in salty, sticky sweat and crying about his mother, father or any other monster that he conjured. Onew also had his own problems, which he didn’t share with his “children”, but Minho suspected anyway and had something to do with cheese, he thought.

            This was all boiling down to something, Minho also thought. As his fingers stopped oscillating on his back, he sat down, only to stand again and stare out of the window. It was too quiet for him and he was bored. He was bored to the point where he was bored of watching television and reading and sleeping and eating and he didn’t do anything like that anymore. Minho plainly existed in a state of plain existence and nobody noticed because that’s what he did at school and Onew was busy and Minki was just a kid, or so everyone thought.

            Minki was smarter than everyone realised, but he just kept quiet about things because he was a kid. Minki knew was Onew’s problem was, but he pretended he didn’t and he’d noticed his brother’s lethargy, but he turned his back to it because he had his very own problems, which included how to deal with his brother and Onew. Minki’s life was upsetting but no one thought anything affected him, though he’d been torn away from what he thought were loving and caring parents. While he acted like he hadn’t been heartbroken when his father had been arrested (because you were supposed to hate the man who’d beaten your brother),he didn’t know what to do when that was the same man who brought you chocolate and took you to hockey games and went fishing with you. And now you were stuck with your gay, sulking older brother and a man who didn’t do any of these things. And Minki just hid his desire to see his father and mother (Lord knows where she went) but he couldn’t because they were bad.

            Minho didn’t ever think about any of this for more than a few minutes because Minki always seemed to be smiling and Onew didn’t seem any busier at work, but maybe that was because Minho used to spend all day out and never really knew when Onew came home and left. Now that he was home, he realised how much Onew was gone and he figured it must have always been that way, when it was really just Onew avoiding Minho because Minho looked too much like the woman Onew was still in love with and Onew was pretty sure that he would burst into tears if he saw Minho.

            And everyone knew about everyone’s problems but pretended not to know or ignored it or was too busy. Minho puffed his cheeks out, allowing the air to move his fringes and he sighed for the billionth time that day, throwing himself onto the couch, wincing when his leg protested, and reaching for the old remote.

            He flipped through channels, not really watching any of them until he decided to leave the house. He pushed his toe back into the hole on his sock and he put his shoes on before he left. He walked out into the wind, which pushed his hair back. He was torn about this because while he was thankful that he no longer had to give himself extreme nerve damage, he was also sure his hair looked ridiculous. Minho walked for a mile, two miles, until he stopped and recognised someone but he thought it wasn’t them, because what would they be doing there? And as he got closer, he recognised the dyed hair and the small eyes and it was Jonghyun sitting on a plastic green crate surrounded by empty bottles and old, half burnt fags and cancer smoke.

            Minho eyed him before walking over and staring at his hyung with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” He asked, sizing the men.

            Jonghyun coughed. “Nothing. Go away,”

            “No,” Minho said. He ignored one of the men who tried to feel his thigh. “Are these your friends?”

            Jonghyun stood, his breath reeking of booze and his red eyes piercing Minho’s soul. If this were the old Minho, just the smell would have scared him -less, but this was the new I-don’t-eat-anything and I-don’t-care-anymore Minho and all he did was stare. “Leave, Minho. Really,”

            Minho stepped back. “You smell,”

            Jonghyun scoffed. “I can’t afford water and I’m surrounded by smoke. What’s your problem?” Minho shrugged, turning to walk away. Jonghyun grabbed his hand, gesturing to the guys. “Are you okay, dude?”

            Minho shrugged again. “I don’t care.”

            Then Jonghyun noticed the vacant look in Minho’s eyes and the way his arms just hung off of his shoulders and the way he breathed, slowly and evenly, like he was thinking about the involuntary process. Jonghyun let go of Minho, who stumbled to the right and regained himself. “You’re ed up right now.”

            Minho shrugged. “What are you doing?”

            Jonghyun sighed. “Selling alcohol and cigarettes.”

            “Why?”

            “My mother needs the money,”

            “Why?”

            Jonghyun glared. “She can’t get a good job.”

            Minho looked up from the road. “Okay,” He started to walk away again and again, Jonghyun held him back.

            “Why are you so messed up?”

            Minho shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            Jonghyun let go again. “Did something happen?”

            “No,”

            “You’re just crazy?”

            “I guess,” Minho muttered, wanting to mope around his house at the moment.

            “I guess you are.” He replied. “Well, go away.”

            Minho nodded and walked away, after socking his hyung on the arm for no reason. Jonghyun watching him walk away, puzzled.

            Jonghyun sat back down on his crate and handed out another bottle.

            “What’s with him?” The man who had been rubbing Minho’s thigh asked.

            “He’s ed up right now,” Jonghyun said.