Minho has always considered himself clever. No, not in the way one would describe an over-achieving student with the bright future at National University of Seoul. Hell no. It was rather in the way he could deviously push a child down from a swing just so that he could have it and if someone was on his case, he would pretend to be helping the kid up. That’s what he was- clever enough to manipulate the situation to his advantage.

It was with this confidence (or over-confidence, if he was being really honest to himself) that he thought he could fool his guardian angel into believing that he was indeed changing his ways. After all, Jinki had promised to not read his mind and noble creatures like him always kept their promises, right?

Minho started by changing the way he behaved with the teachers. Instead of cutting classes, he attended each and every one of it. Well, he did get kicked out of most for disobeying teachers (‘Get your feet off the table, Mr. Choi’ and “Where are your assignments?’ were such pointless words to be directed at Minho really.) But at least Minho was doing his best, right? He even made it to class five minutes after the lesson started today instead of the usual half an hour.

Minho didn’t stay out partying anymore on school days. He did it at home, alone, jamming to some random heavy-metal band that he doesn’t even understand. It was the cool thing to do, after all. He ignored it when Jinki took a jab at his taste in music. Instead, he made it his main objective to remind Jinki constantly that he could be outside, doing things that are so much worse than getting wasted in his own room. See, he was changing, right?

Then, he changed what Jinki referred to as his ‘human-relations’ problem. He stopped pushing Taemin around in the corridor if their paths crossed. His friends did it for him instead. Mission to fix his ‘problem’- accomplished.

What a fool Minho himself must be to have actually believed that Jinki would buy any of this?

“I believe that you lost some of your IQ points over these years. You call this entertainment?” Jinki mused out loud. Minho was previously quite relaxed, watching his favourite movie full of gore for the tenth time with Mir in the latter’s house.

“Not now. I’m busy,” Minho said distractedly. Mir only glanced back to him for a moment before facing forward again like nothing happened.

He heard Jinki sigh and then, a snap of fingers. Suddenly, the movie on the television was no longer showing the scene of the stupid girl being gutted by the serial killer, now replaced by a row of houses. A modest neighbourhood. It seemed to be the point of view of someone and that person seemed to be holding an ice cream in their hand.

Minho groaned. Jinki was doing his thing again- the ‘make Minho repent his mistakes’ thing. And at the most untimely moment too. Mir continued watching the movie like nothing was wrong so Minho assumed that the other could not see what Minho’s seeing.

“I’m not here for this…” Minho said, making a move to get off the couch.

“Think again,” Jinki said and suddenly Minho’s shoulders were being weighed down by invisible weights that was keeping him rooted on the couch. Minho complained of the pain immediately, acting like a spoilt child to escape the hold. Mir didn’t seem to hear his complains, though, and Jinki… Well, Jinki was enjoying this with his hands clasped at his back.

Minho was forced to face the television then. He cursed Jinki in his head for how innocent he looked smiling when really he must be the most mischievous of his kind.

“See you in school tomorrow, Hewonnie!” the person on the screen called out to a girl of maybe ten years old. The person’s voice identified them as a boy and Minho watched with increasing curiousity as the boy now to an empty path down the street. The place looked vaguely familiar.

The boy passed by a giant oak tree and it all came back to Minho.

This was his old neighbourhood. It was just a fifteen minute’s drive away from his current house. Seeing the colour of the ice cream the boy on the screen was , Minho was beginning to recall just exactly what day this was. And what happened.

His assumptions were proven right when he saw the ten year old version of him enter the sight of the boy, accompanied by a couple of his old friends that he was no longer in touch with.

“I think you know what happened after this. Let’s skip to the most important part now, shall we?” Jinki said and just like that the scene fast forwarded to the inside of a small house. The paint was peeling off the wall and the ceiling was cracking, proofs of water seeping through it obvious. Minho could hear the boy sniffling quietly as he carried on walking in.

Minho glanced at Jinki guiltily for a split second before turning to the screen again. He made a lot of people cry before. This was no different. Why should he feel guilty for this particular boy?

Talking about guilty- why the hell is Minho feeling that way so often these days?

“How stupid do you think I am? Are you ing with me now?!” a gruff man’s voice reached the boy’s ears and when he turned a corner, he came to see a man holding a woman by her hair as she cried out in pain. Minho’s attention was instantly attracted back to the scene in front of him.

The man turned in his direction then and caught sight of the boy. It was so surreal how Minho felt like it was him that was being stared at and he couldn’t help the fear building in his stomach. The man wore the scariest expression Minho has ever seen and it was only made worse by his scruffy look- his hair messy and beard unkempt.

“Here comes the product of all your . I wonder who’s this one’s father!” the man growled before pushing the lady into the counter. Her head hit the edge with a bone-chilling thud and Minho flinched. He was feeling so scared as the man approached him (the boy, really, but Minho couldn’t tell them apart now.) His eyes… His eyes glinted dangerously as he scrutinized the small boy.

“You worthless piece of ! You deserve to die with her!” the man said before grabbing a liquor bottle from the table and swinging it onto the boy’s head. Everything out then and Minho found himself breathing harshly.

Minho got up then, easily doing so without the weight on his shoulders anymore. He left the house hurriedly without sparing a look back at Mir, who was calling out to him. He headed straight back home, concentrating fully on putting one foot in front of the other instead of other things.

When he got home, he found his mother sitting alone in the kitchen, sipping on a glass of wine in her sleeping garments. Minho doesn’t know why he does it, but he