Minho was using the lunch time period to read a good book under his most enjoyable spot outside at a bench underneath a full-grown apple tree, a place that the sun often hit just right and made a beautiful sight of everything. As well a place to catch interesting views and peace and quiet, this particular spot was also a good place to be away from the centred cliques and gossips that high school usually held within its hallways.

 

Or, in Minho’s case, it also served as a place to try and escape a fail version of the third degree.     Jonghyun doesn’t even care that he’s interrupting his classmate’s only time to read during school or that he hasn’t been invited to sit down at the table, he just does so. “What’s up with you and that kid?”     “What kid?” Minho asks, barely paying attention to anything other than the words, world, characters and everything else written in the book that he has yet to look up from.     “You’re kidding, right?” Jonghyun wants to scoff, but doesn’t as he’s much too curious to just laugh this whole thing off. “You were talking with that kid earlier outside of homeroom, the one everyone talks about!”     It’s frustrating that Minho’s trying to act like he doesn’t know anything, especially when he should know by now how much the older male detests being made to look like an over-dramatic fool. He gives Jonghyun time to organise his thoughts so that he can at least let his interrogation go in the right direction, so that his friend’s curiosity about his brief meeting with his brother doesn’t drive him further in to insanity.     If Jonghyun had to be truthful, he would admit that he wouldn’t even care about the matter if he hadn’t witnessed the two briefly speaking right before homeroom. It was an odd sight to see his friend, who could be equally as popular as himself if he wanted to be, talking to the boy who is known as--by the whole school--mysterious, odd and an outcast. No one ever dared to interact with the boy because they feared and worried about what they didn’t understand, like in a lost of other cases which caused the creation of stereotypes and gossip etc.     Minho searches through his brain for an excuse, only to disappoint himself when he comes up without anything. Instead, he ends up playing the idiocy card and repeats the question, “What kid?”     “You know! That kid with the…The--Uh, socks and…stuff!”      It’s Minho’s turn to scoff, and he does. “Well, that narrows it down then. There aren’t a lot of students with socks and stuff.” He says, mockery coming out of his tone as he turns a page in his book.     “Shut up, you know I at explaining things!”     “Clearly.”     Jonghyun scowls and decides to act like he wasn’t just insulted, because god help him if he got himself suspended for beating up a student . “What’s the deal then? Why were the two of you talking, and in a place where people could see you?!”     “There’s no deal, “ Minho says, shrugging also. “He and I were just talking.”     “Oh yeah? Well, ‘just talking’ will give people around here enough reason to talk about you! That kid isn’t normal, I swear he must’ve been dropped on his head or something! Man, I wonder what his parents think!”     Minho can’t resist the eye roll he gives before he defends the boy. “Hyung, don’t assume that he has problems just because he doesn’t act like everyone else.”     “But he does the weirdest , seriously!” Jonghyun exclaims, his eyes almost bulging out, his face turning a little red. “He does one thing with one hand and then another with his other because he thinks the aliens might be able to predict his moves and thoughts that way!”      Minho says nothing and just scratches his nose, continuing to read.     “He wears a foil hat when he’s outside in case aliens try to contact him and get in to his thoughts!” Jonghyun carries on, only just getting started. “And his food--I swear, one minute he’s mixing instant noodles with chilli, honey and wasabi sauce, and then the next he’s--augh, look, something’s going on! There is a deal between the both of you, so don’t tell me there isn’t because I wasn’t born yesterday!”     “That’s debatable.”     “On. Thin. Ice. Choi!” Jonghyun warns as his teeth grind together when his thumb and index finger meet each other to illustrate the icy threat. “The point is, you guys looked close! Not like you and I close or peanut butter and jelly close, but…close!”     Minho couldn’t understand the terminology as well as he thought, and from that, had no idea how to respond. His clueless and confused look gives himself away though, whether it was for the best or not.     “Minho, you were talking to the Extra-TAEresstrial and that tells me that you obviously don’t understand what I’ve been telling you all this time--”     “The…Extra-what?”     “TAEresstrial!” Jonghyun shouted. “The Extra-TAEresstrial!”     “Huh?”     Jonghyun groans, perhaps close to tears. “Yah, don’t look at me like that! I don’t know what the kid’s name is but everyone thinks that saying it will get them experimented on aliens or dragged in to a closet by them! That’s why they all call that kid by that nickname, and I guess it just…fits or--”     “Who’s ‘they’?” Minho wonders.     “Teachers, students, subs--The whole freaking school!” Jonghyun explains altogether. “They’ve been talking a lot about the kid and--”     “Taemin.” Minho cuts in, turning over a page in his book again and starting a new chapter. “His name is Taemin, Lee Taemin.”     “Well, holy fu--If you know his name then why didn’t you just tell me?!”     “Other than the fact that you never asked me?” Minho queries, a victorious smirk replacing what used to be a simple expressionless mask. He wouldn’t admit it, but he actually found his friend and their conversation to finally be interesting enough. “It was fun watching you look helpless and confused. You freak out like a little kid.”     “ you, Choi!”     “Flattered, but I’m straight.”                                  It’s around six when Minho reaches his apartment. And just as he walks in, throws his bag on one of the couches and loosens the chocking tie around his neck, the door knocks and he moves to answer it while suppressing a groan.     Now he’s completely aware that he hasn’t ordered a pizza, especially a Vegetable one. No, he would’ve preferred a manlier type like Pepperoni, maybe with cheese-filled crust as well. But it's not the first time food he didn't order has come to his door.     After using the money he worked hard to earn at his part-time job as a waiter at a café to pay for the pizza, he takes the hot-boxed meal and travels across the hall to the opposite apartment, where he knocks to announce his arrival before entering. As expected, he finds the culprit waiting inside. His younger brother is sat in front of the television an