The huffs of the young boy turned into violent wheezing as he ran on. His lungs were burning to the point that they were on fire from what could be his second mile of running. His feet were cold and tender from running barefoot on the sidewalk, his back was sweaty from the work, his hair was a mess, and his injuries weren't making it any easier on him.

Taemin was escaping. He was escaping his three main bullies.

For so many years, Taemin had been picked on for his fragile and girlish figure. They taunted him every day he was present in school and picked on his girly facial features, claiming he was born to be a transgender.

He was pushed, hit, and even stolen from. Today, they took his black jacket and his favorite, flashy shoes. They hit him with them and told him how he didn't deserve anything that cost as much as his attire did. They hurt him badly today—probably most violent that they've ever been with him.

Taemin blinked his tears away, unable to feel them. It was already cold outside, and the tears held no warmth.

He couldn't get help. The bullies' parents would be typical and deny or challenge the teachers and his parents. They'd say Taemin was a liar and inflicted pain upon himself, trying to play innocent. And his bullies would agree with them and claim that they were good boys with pure hearts and the mind for learning, not for violence (and how Taemin cursed them for that). But his parents knew very well he wasn't cutting, bruising, or breaking bones by himself! He might be boney and fragile, but he wasn't weak enough in his mind to be able to inflict such damage on himself or his family.

His parents couldn't find him a new school—it cost too much money, and they were already in trouble. They told him many times how they were trying hard to make it easier for him, and he accepted it. But he knew the day would never come that he'd switch schools. He'd be in this Hell House until graduation— which was so far from now.

He remembered how his favorite teacher got fired. He had witnessed Taemin getting a broken arm and reported the boys immediately. The parents attacked him, saying he was just defending the teacher pet and had something against their children. No matter how much the principle of the school wanted to defend the teacher, they would've gone to court. And with the parents spending tons of money on lawyers, they'd be in a Hell Hole.

So the principle fired Taemin's favorite teacher. And the new one ignored Taemin altogether.

School was his Hell.

The kids still ran behind Taemin and taunted him with crucial words as he kept trying to escape their sight. But he couldn't get them to stop and catch their breaths. Their agility and endurance amazed Taemin, but nonetheless frightened him senselessly. They could run him out of the country.

Taemin had enough of this terrible part of his life. He was tired. Too many years he'd put up with this. Too many days he let them kick him to the ground like a football player making a punt.

He needed his savior. The person who saved his sanity. The person he never introduced his bullies, never had shown his beating scars to, and always lied about how he broke his bones.

The person who could stop the incidents for a long time. He was finally going to get help.

  "Come on, Minnie," they teased as they began catching up.

Taemin whined inside his mouth as he pushed himself harder, finally taking a turn into a neighborhood. He now ran in the empty street, feet scraping against the pavement and hurtfully stepping on its small rocks.

Pain. Pain. Pain.

  "Minnie," the leader snickered, "You forgot something! You forgot to bring us with you! C'mon, slow down."

Taemin could feel trickling down from his eyes and spread from his cheeks, falling behind.

You're almost there, Tae. You're almost there!

He finally made it up the small hill of the street and his angel's home came into view on the right side of the street.

He saw a man at the gate of the house, unlocking the chain and entering through.

Good! He's home!

Suddenly, he felt a flap of his jacket whip against his arm and he wailed out, pushing himself to the house.

  "Minho, Minho, MINHO!" He screamed and ran up to the house and past the gate.

Minho turned around with recognition to the voice with a smile, but instantly frowned. He saw the boy was being chased, barefoot and coatless. A way to get violently sick in this season.

Minho dropped his sport bag and ran straight for Taemin, letting the boy slam into his body and limply put his arms around him. He crushed the boy lightly in his arms, feeling the sweaty being against him.

  "M-make t-t-them s-stop," he begged breathlessly against his shirt, feeling a little relief as he was engulfed in Minho's arms.

The junior's eyes glared upon the freshman at his gate and narrowed in dangerous threat.

The boys snickered, playing around with Taemin's belongings.

  "Look. Taemin has a man. Hah, look at the , begging for him to save him. What a gay ," the leader laughed out and scrunched his nose up as if Taemin smelled revolting, "Try us, big guy."

  "Tae," Minho whispered, looking at the shaking blond, "I'm going to sit you on the grass; they won't come near you," he held on to Taemin's hips and gently placed him on the grass, lightly patting his left cheek.

Once Taemin was situated, he turned away to the boys and ominously strode up to them, his back to the younger. He clenched his fists and made direct eye contact with the leader, stopping a few steps away.

One of them—the boy with the jacket—widened his eyes and bit his lip, retreating a couple inches. He recognized the famous athlete, "Uh, guys, let's give it back . . ."

  "What? No way, man," The leader scoffed and walked up to Minho, pressing them chest to chest, "You think I'm scared just because you're buff and tall?"

Oh, Taemin thought as he lifted his head to see, Oh yes, you should be scared! Minho is a monster when something bad is going on! You can't mess with anything of his!

. . . I'm . . . His?

Minho's mouth scrunched up hauntingly, almost like he was smirking. His bulk hand grabbed the collar of the cocky younger's shirt and uplifted him with little effort, letting his feet dangle in the air.

  "You audacious little punk," he spat as he shook him, "You have no respect! You better find it in your brain in less than a minute or else I'll make sure your parents won't recognize you!"

God, Minho, Taemin cried internally, Don't be . . . this scary!

  "Who-Who . . ."

  "Dude," the cowering boy dropped the jacket and slowly retreated, "Choi Minho."

The clutched boy's eyes popped out of his skull and thrashed around, "Oh —a Choi?!" he cried out, "I-I'm sorry! P-please! Let m-me down! I-I'm sorry!"

Minho growled and held him close, looking him dead in the eyes with threat written all over in his own. The freshman pulled his head back and thrashed once more.

  "You think I'm going to forgive you easily, you runt?" he hissed. His other hand started shaking as it arose.

Minho . . .

  "You think you should be let off?" he hissed more, his hand clenching into a fist.

Minho, stop . . .

  "H-Hyung," Taemin weakly called out, "Hyung . . . d-don't. Stop it."

Taemin was regretting coming to Minho. He was so selfish.

When Taemin's plea found Minho's ears, the junior's hand went back to his side. He shook the boy once more before letting him fall to the ground, "Don't you ever mess, talk, taunt, or bother him anymore, you hear me? If you do, you know you're digging your own grave and I won't hesitate laying you to rest in the dirt," He growled.

Without answer, the leader scrambled to his feet and turned, running away without a word. The one, still jacket-less, was smart enough to follow after. The last one, who seemed nonexistent yet still threatening, placed Taemin's flashy shoes on the ground and bowed with a mumbled 'sorry' before cowering off with the other two.

Minho sighed as he calmed. He gathered up Taemin's belongings and turned. When he got back to Taemin, he knelt beside him, lifting his chin with a finger, a silent apology for his behavior coming from his eyes.

Taemin accepted and watched him as he examined his face.

He was bruised under his left eye and yellow under his chin. His arms had reddening finger prints and purpling beat marks upon his skin. Minho's depressing gaze pulled to the younger's feet. He let his things down and lightly pulled Taemin's feet straight to look. Cuts with blood and dirt caked together in a revolting manner that Minho wanted to cry.

  "God, Minnie," he somberly shook his head. He took his things and managed to get them both over his left shoulder and as light as a feather, place his hands upon the boy's hips, "I-I'm going to lift you. I'm sorry if it hurts."

Taemin pulled his eyes away and nodded.

Minho tried hard to not hurt him as he pulled the younger up and into his arms, cradling him to his chest. Taemin refused to whimper because he let him lay his head on his right shoulder, giving him the sense of safety.

Minho, leaving his bag outside, opened the door to the empty house and went straight upstairs to his room's bathroom.

He set Taemin's things on the floor and slid the sweaty boy from him, sitting him on the toilet before turning to tub faucet on, filling it up with bath water.

Minho focused on Taemin and carefully slid the clinging shirt off of him. Taemin whimpered as he did so and from the following actions of Minho sliding off his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers.

He felt overly exposed—not to mention indecent—to Minho's eyes as they raked over his bruises. He felt completely awful that he decided to pull him into this. It was clearly not fair. He was selfish enough to ask for such big help and let him see the scars of the past. Minho's eyes couldn't have taken it! They were ugly and blotchy. He thought he was beautiful, but it seemed these marks were damaging his image in Minho's dark eyes.

He stifled a gasp as Minho's hands lightly brushed over his bruises at his front. Some were old and yellow while most were blues and purples and sensitive. There were even some scars as to where his skin scarred from broken bones.

  "Hyung, please—"

  "I'm helping you, Tae," he whispered with ache in his words. His eyes shifted to the younger's as his hands were on his shoulders, pulling him forward.

His back was the worst.

He was completely covered. There were barely any spots of pink or milky skin. Just blue, purple, deep red and icky yellows. Minho's throat violently ached as he looked up from the abuse, forcing back his tears.

  "H-Hyung . . ."

  "It's okay, Tae," he whispered in his ear, "I'm helping you."

Taemin was lifted and placed in the warm bathwater.

He hissed as the contact prickled his freezing skin. And his feet stung as he could feel the dirt slouching away, revealing the cuts from the escape.

  "Hyung," Taemin whined in a whisper, letting his head fall back against the wall in pain.

Minho looked into his eyes a pulled a hand through the younger's blond locks, "Everything will be okay, Minnie," he assured him, his voice a beautiful affection covered in velvet, "I'll make it okay. I promise."

Taemin sniffed and let his tears fall to mix with the water. How thankful he was to have someone promise him a better future. Even though his parents already have, Minho was more convincing. 

  "Taemin," Minho, concerned, placed both arms over the ridge, his hands light on Taemin's tear streaked face, wiping them away, "I'll make it better. Believe me."

  "I-I do," he whispered and closed his eyes.

Minho decided to help the boy wash off the sweat from his body. When he made it down to his feet, he delicately rubbed the dirt off and the excess blood contact the water.

  "Come on," he finished, "Let's get you out."

Carefully, he lifted the younger back up (standing on his heels) and hugged the bare figure.

This is what Taemin longed for—his immediate concern. Minho wasn't the typical snotty-star athlete in school. He was a man with a large heart and full of talent. That heart was Taemin's everything. It was the armor against everything harmful. Even if he was hurt, just having his heart shielded him from unbearable pain.

Taemin liked his Hyung a lot—a lot like love. They were close enough, and Taemin became number one on Minho's list. Even if his love wasn't returned, he didn't care. Just having Minho as his own Hyung was enough for him and he wasn't willing to change that. 

  "H-Hyung . . . I'm soaking your shirt," he sniffed, noticing how wet he was.

Minho pulled away from him and gingerly held his bare shoulders, "Tae, all I care about is your well being right now. Not my stupid shirt. You're a lot more valuable than clothing."

Taemin, shyly denying it, still nodded.

Kneeling, Minho placed a towel around him and affectionately dried the fragile boy's body. They stared at each other while Minho worked the towel around him. Taemin was getting seriously embarrassed—feeling so feminine and letting him do this. But . . . he actually liked it too much to ask to stop.

 Once dry, Minho threw the towel in the hamper's direction and stood.

Taemin squeaked as he was hoisted up and out of the bathroom and placed on the bed as Minho looked through his drawers. He pulled out baggy sweats, an oversized shirt, and boxers that were decent enough for him.

He brought back the clothes and changed Taemin himself, making sure to not look at his lower region and still be a decent person as he helped Taemin into the boxers. When he was clothed, Taemin gave him a small smile.

The clothes smelled like Minho's cologne and were too large for him, emphasizing his skinny body.

Taemin liked the way he smelled; it was a manly musk and not so overpowering that his nose could fall off.

As for the size . . . why would he care?

The older crawled on to the bed and pulled Taemin with him. He held his right arm out and let Taemin rest his head above it. He pulled him close and let his hand run through the soft blond hair that didn't get wet.

Taemin closed his eyes and hummed, snuggling closer to his touches. Minho smiled and his cheek with his thumb.

  "Hyung?" 

  "Yeah?"

An arm wrapped around Minho's body and a face pressed against his warm chest, "Thank you."

Minho's heartbeat flew out the window as he heard. Flattered, he pressed his lips on the boy's forehead, letting himself linger there.

  "I'm not going to let anything happen to you like this ever again. You're important to me and I need your happiness. I'm going to keep you happy. I'm not going to let anything break you. I'll break whatever it is for you.

  "I'm not just telling you. I'm swearing—assuring you. Forever, you're going to be safe with me, Minnie. Forever."

  "Forever . . ." Taemin breathed out and contently fell asleep.

Minho pressed his lips to the forehead again and closed his own eyes.

  "Yeah, Taemin, forever."

---Note~---

'Kay, hi. c:

Like I said, I really hate writing Taemin as this fragile little kid, but this is fluff. /Shrug

And yet, in the fic I'm trying to write, he's so childish. OTL.

I'm really tired, I guess, so this won't be a long note.

AFF's offline issues kind of get on my nerves... but, hey, what can I do about it?

Please check out my LiveJournal for the alternative. I actually like it over there more, even though I don't know how to work it yet. c:

http://piplupz.livejournal.com/

I have school tomorrow... And I still have the summer reading to finish... OTL.

'KAY WHATEVER.

I seriously love this oneshot. It's my favorite 2Min out of the three I've written-- YES, IT PASSED . c:

I have no idea where I got the idea for this, but ever since I've written it, I've been super conscious of my writing. Apparently I say reassured/assurance a lot... I rely on a thesaurus, forever. :p

TL;DR, I'll shut up now. c:

Bye~

~FlaMinhoe.