Chapter Text
Minho woke up slowly – calmly, for once. There was no pounding in his head, no souring in his stomach, no ache in his bones. A pleasant, floral scent tickled his nose and caused the waves of sleep to wash over him gently, ushering back into peaceful slumber. His skin was warmed like a kiss and simultaneously cooled by a breeze that cradled him softly. Quietly, he sighed, and turned over to nuzzle closer into the warmth he was laying on. Somewhere above him, a deep voice giggled. Fingers ran threw his hair, scratching his scalp like one would a cat.
His pillow shifted a little. He grumbled incoherently and wrapped his arms around it, ordering it to stay still. Again, the voice laughed – though, this time, it rang a little louder in his ears. His face scrunched up slightly as he woke up further, the voice catching on his memory. It felt like something important to hear, like something he might want to be awake for. His heart thudded once in his chest, sharply, and he gulped.
“What’s got hyung so cranky, huh? Honestly…” An oh-so-familiar voice crooned into his ear. He could almost picture a face – could almost see the lips forming the words, the crescents formed in eyes by a smile, the spattering of freckles – but it was still too blurry in his mind’s eye. He groaned, hands clutching at his moving pillow.
Wake up, wake up, wake up, he demanded of himself as his heart raced more. Excitement? Anxiety? Both?
With no little effort, he forced his eyes open. Sleep kept trying to drag him under its wing, sticking to him like a sap. Lights blurred around him as he blinked rapidly and rubbed the crust from his eyes. Above him, a shadow loomed, haloed by a warm light behind it. He was struck by a sudden sense of déjà vu as he pushed himself to sit up.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Yongbok said with a smile. Minho could only breathlessly stare. His friend quirked an eyebrow and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “What? Do I have something on my face? Am I ugly?”
Minho’s eyes hungrily drank in the sight in front of him. The sunlight dripped down Yongbok’s body like honey, highlighting his smooth skin and thick hair – blue hair, tied back out of his face. He had the same freckles, the same chocolate eyes and sharp smile. Yet, he was clearly more mature than the Yongbok that inhabited his dreams – no more babyfat, his body visibly strong with lean muscle and the most subtle of scars.
This wasn’t Levanter, this wasn’t a figment of his imagination – this was Yongbok. This was Yongbok.
“Hyung? Are you –“
Minho lunged forward and brought them both to the ground. Yongbok gasped as the breath was knocked out of him, and then broke out into hearty laughter as Minho wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. Yongbok’s arms came up to wrap around him, as well, hugging him with a strength that went completely at odds with his bright expression.
“Yongbok-ah, Yongbok-ah, Yongbok-ah,” Minho chanted his name like a prayer, face buried in his neck. If his voice quickly became wet, then that was no one’s business. He rocked them back and forth, back and forth, digging his fingers into the back of Yongbok’s sweater like the boy would slip between them as sand. Yongbok’s arms around his shoulders sent sparks down his spine and burned through his clothes, lighting him on fire.
“I’m here, hyung, I’m here,” Yongbok said softly. He rubbed his cheek on Minho’s temple. “Oh, hyung, please don’t be sad – if you cry, I’ll cry, you know that…”
“I’m not sad,” Minho said instantly. With how choked up he was, he doubted he sounded very convincing. “I’m not sad, Bbokkie, I promise. I’m happy, I’m so happy.”
“You’re crying.”
“I’m not,” Minho shot back, clearly crying. Yongbok laughed, the sound somewhat choked up, and squeezed him a little tighter.
They stayed like that for some time. Minho didn’t know how long and, quite frankly, he didn’t care. Yongbok was real and warm and tangible under his fingertips. He was holding him and hearing him and feeling him and he didn’t disappear like smoke, didn’t vanish into thin air. Yongbok was there. He was there, and he was real, and he was in Minho’s arms.
“I missed you so much,” Minho whispered tightly. He clenched his eyes shut in a vain attempt at holding back his tears. “I thought – I thought I was crazy. That you were a figment of my imagination. But I just – I just couldn’t let go, I couldn’t –“
Yongbok shushed him and slowly pulled away. A pathetic noise ripped out of Minho’s throat at the loss. Yongbok simply smiled with a sad, sad look in his eyes, and reached up to smooth back Minho’s bangs.
“I’m sorry, hyung,” he said, voice hitching. “I’m – You never should have remembered, you… You shouldn’t have been able to see me. And I – I should’ve stopped visiting once I realized you could, but I just… I…”
Minho blinked and roughly wiped away a stray tear. “Visit…me? You mean -?”
Yongbok’s smile widened. This time, it was a little less sad, and a little more excited. He kept a tight grip on Minho’s hand as he stood up, Minho scrambling to follow. “C’mon, hyung. Let me show you something.”
For the first time since he woke up, Minho took the time to look at his surroundings. They were standing in a field – as far as the eye could see was miles and miles of pale purple grass that rose up to his hip. The sky was similarily a pale blue, and shining bright above them were two waning moons. There were only two structures that Minho could find, in which he and Yongbok had been sitting between them. One was a flat stone platform, almost like a stage, and the other was a large, empty doorframe.
Yongbok tugged lightly on his hand. Bonelessly, Minho followed, and allowed Yongbok to lead him up to the platform. Their footsteps were quiet on the stone, the sound of their steps drowned out by the rustling of grass in the wind. In the middle of the platform, Yongbok hummed, and flicked his wrist quickly. Minho gasped. In Yongbok’s hand was the Compass.
Anxiety shot through his chest instinctually, but he bit his lip and stomped it down. He watched, mesmerized, as Yongbok splayed out his fingers. The Compass almost seemed to come apart right in front of him in a display that was far too similar to how it once had in Miroh. Minho held onto Yongbok with both hands and clenched his eyes shut, phantom memories of the pain he’d been subjected to racing to the forefront of his mind – strangely enough, though, instead of the sharp splitting sensation he’d been expecting, he felt a swooping in his gut as his feet left the ground. Yongbok squeezed his hand comfortingly. Slowly, he opened his eyes back up, and gasped at what he saw.
First, he and Yongbok were hovering about a foot in the air. Minho couldn’t say that he enjoyed that at all, and clung to Yongbok’s arm like a child. His cheeks reddened as Yongbok outwardly laughed at him, scowling all the way. Secondly, though…
They were in the living room of Chan’s apartment. Minho turned this way and that, blinking rapidly as he took in the sight. Jisung was pacing back and forth while chewing on his nails. Jeongin laid curled up against one arm of the couch, arms wrapped around himself as he stared blankly at the powered-off television. The sound of sizzling food came from the kitchen, followed by Chan’s muttering under his breath. Strangely enough, none of them reacted to Minho and Yongbok’s presence.
“What the…?” Minho mumbled. One of the bedroom doors opened, and Changbin walked into the living room, pulling his phone away from his ear. Immediately, Jisung’s and Jeongin’s heads snapped towards him.
Changbin rolled his neck, a faint pop following. “That was Seungmin. Said he still can’t get Hyunjin to leave their dorm, but managed to get him to eat a bowl of rice, so that’s something.”
Jisung scoffed harshly. “Mister Hwang can kiss my ass. Who cares if that asshole starves or not?”
“You do,” Jeongin said instantly, as if by habit.
“I do!” Jisung folded immediately, crying out sharply and grabbing his hair. “Binnie hyung, can we go check on him? Please? Please?”
Changbin winced and shook his head. “God, I wish we could, Sung, but we can’t overwhelm him. Especially not when you’re, uh… volatile. About the whole thing.”
Minho frowned sharply, watching as Jisung groans and starts pacing again. “The hell is going on here?” He asked. When he received no answer, he cleared his throat, and yelled. “Yah! Don’t ignore me, brats!”
His shoulder was nudged. “They can’t see or hear us,” Yongbok said quietly. Minho turned his eyes to him, his expression softening. “This is just a – an observation room, I guess. A place Levanter made so that the Compass wielder can keep a closer eye on things.”
At that moment, Chan walked into the living room, moving right past them without so much as blinking. He set down three plates on the coffee table, each loaded with steaming stir-fry. He looked utterly exhausted, but still tried to give Jeongin a smile as the boy lazily reached for a plate.
“You were the only person that could see me whenever I came here,” Yongbok continued. He put his head on Minho’s shoulder, and his hair tickled Minho’s neck. “It was only ever in snatches, though – you’d see me while turning a corner, or hear a passing comment I’d make, but… the moments never lasted long enough to actually talk.”
“Did you try to talk to me?” Minho couldn’t help but ask.
A beat passed. “In the beginning, yeah. I wanted to – apologize. Ask if you were okay, now. Stuff like that,” he said. “Once I realized it was useless, and that seeing me freaked you out so much… I stopped trying.”
Minho swallowed roughly. “But you never stopped visiting?”
“I never stopped visiting.”
His eyes burned. A million thoughts ran through his head, all jumbled together and clamoring for his attention. Relief that he wasn’t really crazy, anger at everyone who never believed him, grief at knowing that Yongbok had been right at his fingertips the whole damn time – it was overwhelming. It hurt so, so good.
He looked down, away from the scene of their friends. He felt like a voyeur, peeking in on them without being able to help. He had a strong feeling their upset was his own fault, anyway. He had, after all, ran out on their dinner. Not to mention his wish…
He looked instead to Yongbok’s hand. Where had once been the Compass was now a small, swirling vortex of shining metal and lights. He was enraptured by the sight of it – energy spun around in mid-air, between Yongbok’s fingers and around his wrist. It like like he was cradling a miniature solar system in the palm of his hand. Slowly, he reached out to touch the lights with his fingertips. There was a flare of heat as his skin made contact with it, and then slowly, the energy moved. It drifted away from Yongbok’s hand in loop-de-loops and twirling lights, floating instead to hover in Minho’s palm.
He blinked dumbly at his hand. The heat tickled like poprocks.
“Oh,” Yongbok said quietly. His tone was more curious than upset, but there was still a thread of displeasure. “You can still use the Compass.”
“You sound disappointed,” Minho commented. He idly turned his hand over, watching the energy float around with the movement. He felt a definite weight in his palm like he was still holding the actual body of the Compass – it was strange, but not wholly unwelcome. Weirder things than this have definitely happened to him by now.
Muted whispering filled the air around them as their friends spoke quietly. Minho wondered about Hyunjin. Seungmin, too, but mostly Hyunjin. From what little he’s heard, he seemed to be taking things… quite hard. Not that Minho expected anything different, but he still hated to hear it.
Suddenly, the image of Chan’s living room rippled. Geometric lights folded out around them like a box, briefly forming what looked to be mirrors surrounding them. Then, they folded back in, revealing Hyunjin and Seungmin’s dorm. Minho sucked in a harsh breath, his eyes immediately catching on the lump on Hyunjin’s bed, Seungmin standing over it.
“I feel sick. ‘m gonna throw up,” came Hyunjin’s voice out from the pile of blankets. His voice sounded wrecked.
Seungmin sighed, holding a bowl of half-eaten rice. “You feel sick because you’re dehydrated. You’ve been crying a lot, Hyune. You need to drink more water.”
Hyunjin whined. The lump shifted, revealing a head of unkempt hair and red-rimmed eyes. “Just leave me alone. I know you want to.”
“I’m kinda worried you’ll faint and die horribly if I leave you alone for longer than two minutes, actually,” Seungmin said. The light-heartedness of his tone was clearly forced, overpowered by his worry. “C’mon, just a few sips of water. You already had some rice. I won’t make you do anything more – I just don’t want hyung to kill me for letting you shrivel up.”
“Kill you? He’s going to kill me!” Hyunjin exclaimed, sitting up slightly in bed. “After everything I did – after, after Yongbok – he – I – ”
Seungmin cursed softly as Hyunjin began to cry, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders heaved. Minho’s stomach turned violently and he clenched his eyes shut. Stop, stop, stop, he begged in his head. He hated hearing Hyunjin cry.
The sounds cut off. When Minho opened his eyes again, it was to find the two of them back in that box of mirrors with Yongbok giving him an indecipherable look. It was selfish, but Minho couldn’t help but relax now that he wasn’t watching Hyunjin cry anymore.
It would be a lie to say that Minho had expected his friends to take the return of their memories easily, but it would be an even bigger lie to say that he had been prepared for the sheer breadth of how upset they’d all be. God, he needed to talk to Hyunjin. He still remembered that night at his house when Hyunjin confessed to feeling guilty. Minho had forgiven him instantly, and he didn’t need to do any kind of soul-searching to know that that held true even now.
Forget about jealousy, parties, and everything else – Hyunjin was Minho’s friend. Quite frankly, he didn’t give a shit about what mistakes they made in high school. He just needed Hyunjin to understand that – to understand that they had just been kids, and that they were best friends, and that it was okay that they hurt each other, sometimes. Maybe he was being a bit too lax considering what exactly had gone down, but he didn’t care. The worst part of the whole situation had always, always been the loneliness.
“Hyung,” Yongbok called softly. Minho turned to him, humming. He watched Yongbok chew on his bottom lip for a moment. “You made a wish. Didn’t you? That’s why the Compass still responds to you even though I’m here.” Minho nodded. “What did you wish for?”
That was an easy question. “I wished for everyone’s memories to come back. What else could I possibly wish for?”
Yongbok took in a visibly deep breath. His eyes flashed. “You – why? Everyone was so happy, everything was fixed.”
“Because they deserved to know, Yongbok. And we’re not useless.” Minho worked his jaw. It was a little difficult in their zero-gravity situation, but he managed to turn his body so that he faced Yongbok fully. His voice was tinted with shame as he spoke next. “I know that… that the way we were behaving – the way I was behaving – didn’t really inspire confidence, but… we could’ve worked things out ourselves. We would’ve. That day you made your wish, I was already at Hyunjin’s house, psyching myself up to talk to him.”
“You… you were…?” Yongbok asked, his voice so, so small. “Hyung… what did you give up?”
Minho hesitated. “That’s not important.”
“It is!” Yongbok shot back. “If – if my wish had been so unnecessary, then – then whatever you gave up to fix it is my fault. I have to know. What did you give up?”
The hole in Minho’s chest pulsed with a cold ache. He resisted the urge to grab at it, knowing that it’s nothing physical, and that he brought it upon himself. “I said it’s not important. It was worth it.”
“Leaving behind all my friends and family to join a revolution in another universe was also worth it, but I think we both agree that it was pretty important, hyung,” Yongbok said testily. Minho winced. He had a point.
“I…” Minho trailed off, looking anywhere but at his friend. He hasn’t actually said it out loud, yet. Not since he made the deal with Levanter. “I gave up acting.”
Yongbok stared at him. Horror slowly began creeping into his expression. “You what?”
“Energy needed to go somewhere, or something. I’m not really great at the whole logistics of how this wish-making works, yet,” Minho said. “I asked if it could be used to destroy something if it’s not a physical thing. Levanter said it could. I chose my passion for acting.”
He expected to feel something now that he’s finally said the words. Yet, there was nothing. There was no grief for a love lost, there was no frustration. A little anxiety, maybe, but that had more to do with the fact that he’s spent the last three years working towards a degree in acting, and the thought of actually pursuing that as a career was… mind numbing. He knew, logically, how important acting had always been to him. He remembered the countless nights spent pacing his room and reading scripts. He remembered the first live show he ever saw. It felt like it all happened to someone else, though. Someone else had sat curled up in his bed, begging to be Peter Pan if only for an hour or two. Someone else had desperately wanted to peek through that window into other people’s lives. Minho reached out and tried to grasp onto that warmth that had once washed over him, and he came back cold and empty. There was simply nothing there.
Yongbok gasped, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. He looked heartbroken. “Hyung… Hyung, you – why on Earth would you -?”
Minho leaned forward and grasped one of his arms. He recalled the reasoning that had gone through his head when he made his wish, and felt just as strongly now as he did then that it was true. “I don’t need theatre, Yongbok,” he said. “I don’t need to pretend to be anyone else. I don’t need a stage or a camera to feel seen. I have you guys. That’s all I’ve ever needed.”
A tear ran down Yongbok’s freckled cheek. Minho swiped it away with a thumb and then pressed their foreheads together.
“I’m so sorry, hyung. I just wanted everyone to be happy again,” Yongbok whispered, voice wet with held-back tears.
“Hyung’s sorry, too. Why don’t we both be sorry, say it’s okay, and then move on?”
Yongbok sniffled, and then smiled a weak, but genuine smile. “I missed you, hyung.”
Minho smiled back. “I missed you too, Bbokkie.”
Stray Kids were incredibly rowdy once Minho and Yongbok got back. Apparently, Yongbok hadn’t told any of them that he was taking an unconscious Minho to Levanter – he’d just done it, and everyone else went into a panic upon realizing that their Compass wielders were missing again. Minho and Chris gave Yongbok a very proper scolding that was absolutely underminded by how clingy the two were with him.
It’s apparently been a day and a half since they rescued Yongbok from District Nine. Once Minho’s body had given out after they stepped into the shop, he’d been out for the count ever since. The Kids were a little baffled by the fact that Yongbok had woken up before him, but to him, it made a bit of sense. They’d both been tortured, but Minho also had to deal with Lee Know practically concussing him and then the physical stress of breaking through his memory block on top of the torture. He was honestly a little surprised he felt so clear-headed so soon.
“Hyunjin always talks about how healing it is for him to be in the Cle,” Yongbok had said. “Something to do with the, erm… side effects of his own time spent in District Nine. I figured – if it helps him feel better, maybe it would make us feel better, too. And it did! Hooray!”
That was another thing. The whole… Hyunjin and District Nine thing. Minho didn’t want to pry, since it was clearly a sore subject, but after the strange interactions he’d watched Hyunjin have while they were breaking in and out of the District, he felt like he was going a little insane with questions. After everyone calmed down, Hyunjin sat beside him on the couch in the lounge area. The rest of Stray Kids lay strewn about the room, though they were visibly all trying to keep Yongbok in their sights.
In a strange yet heartwarming parallel to his friends back home, Seungmin sat on Hyunjin’s other side, clearly tense with worry.
“I don’t really remember much from before I was maybe… six, or so,” Hyunjin explained slowly. There was an audible heaviness in his words, and he kept his gaze planted on his feet. One of his hands held the other at the wrist, his thumb idly running over the lines and letters tattooed on with thin black ink. “There’s some bits and pieces, I guess. I vaguely remember going to school, eating dinner with my parents. Can’t …remember their faces though. Miroh took me when I was a kid. They took a bunch of kids, but we weren’t allowed to meet each other. We only vaguely knew each other existed based off what the scientists said.”
“You were experiments,” Minho said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
Hyunjin nodded. “As far as we know, there wasn’t a Compass wielder back then. Miroh still wanted a way into Levanter, though. They thought – they already knew how to harness a bit of its power to open doors, so what if they gave that power to a person? Could that person lead the way in? And of course they had to use children. Perfectly malleable, and all that.” He sighed softly and squeezed his wrist. A small, almost wistful smirk graced his lips. “Well, we were far from perfect. Some other experiments staged a prison break one day, and I just so happened to find myself joining in. And, well, you know the rest. Ran far enough to make a wish, ended up in the city properly… ran into Chris hyung and the shop. So on, and so forth.”
“What happened to the other experiments?” Minho asked. His brow furrowed as he thought back to the hooded men of Miroh, and their strange attachment to Hyunjin.
His eye caught on a bit of movement. On the other side of Hyunjin, Seungmin took a deep breath. Minho wouldn’t have paid it much mind if it hadn’t coincided with him grabbing his wrist in an awfully similar fashion to Hyunjin. He looked a little closer, and noticed a small discoloration on the inside of Seungmin’s wrist, like a burn scar.
He looked up. Seungmin’s gaze caught his, unreadable. Minho said nothing.
“I’m not sure,” Hyunjin said, oblivious. “I – I like to think that at least some got out. Lee Know always said that since I used a wish to get to safety, then everyone else must have remained stuck there, but I disagree, if only because there’s no way all of them were in range for Levanter to affect.”
His head turned as Han spoke up. “That white clothed bastard up at Nine said they were all part of the same group as Hyunjin. Had the same tattoo on his wrist and everything, same as the guy in District One. So, some of them definitely didn’t get out, and they went cuckoo bird evil mode.”
“But some did,” Hyunjin insisted. He gripped his shirt with a fist and looked up to make eye contact with all of them individually. “I know they did. I know – I know most of you don’t believe me, but at least Chris hyung does. That’s why I just know there’s other cities outside of Miroh. That’s where the others have gone, I just know it.”
Minho leaned in to put a hand on Hyunjin’s knee and give it a comforting squeeze. “I believe you, Hyunjin. Just mathematically speaking, at least one other person had to have gotten out,” he said, and very carefully did not look at Seungmin. “We got out the city walls once, we can do it again. We’ll find them.”
Hyunjin leaned against him like a cat, shoulders pressed against each other. Minho wrapped an arm around him. Unwanted, an image of a small, elementary school aged Hyunjin appeared in his mind, trembling and shaking in the same hellish contraption that he’d seen Yongbok in. He batted the picture away forcefully before the felt the need to throw up. God, he hated this place.
Yongbok stood up, then, and walked over to kneel down in front of Hyunjin. He cradled Hyunjin’s face for a moment and then shot forward, wrapping him in a hug. Minho couldn’t hear what he whispered in the other’s ear, but he saw how it had Hyunjin melting in his arms. At the very end, as the two pulled away, he caught a single “thank you” fall out of Yongbok’s mouth.
There were likely plenty of good, reasonable ways to go home. Minho wasn’t a very reasonable person even on a good day. That’s why he chose to walk directly into Hyunjin and Seungmin’s dorm room from their closet door.
He quite delighted in the twin shrieks that erupted from Seungmin and Hyunjin as he stepped inside, especially since it seemed to interrupt Hyunjin’s crying. Seungmin stumbled back and half-fell onto his bed, clutching his chest like he had a heart attack. Hyunjin appeared frozen, staring at Minho with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
“Hey guys,” Minho said. He immediately had to jump in front of the door as Hyunjin dived off the bed and made a break for it. The move was needless, as Hyunjin’s limbs were all tangled up in his sheets and he simply wound up in a pile on the floor. Minho huffed and crossed his arms, staring down at him. “That was wholly unnecessary.”
He heard Seungmin muttering under his breath, head snapping rapidly between the closet and Minho. Minho ignored him.
On the floor, Hyunjin groaned and struggled to untangle himself from the blankets. Eventually, he did, though he didn’t move to stand up. Instead, he shuffled to sit on his knees, back bowed. It took Minho a minute to realize what he was trying to do, and by the time he did, it was too late to stop him.
Hyunjin kowtowed. To him.
“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Hyunjin whimpered, voice thick and heavy. “For everything – I’m so, so sorry. I was so stupid, and jealous, and – that’s no excuse, I’m so sorry!”
“Hyunjin, wait –“ Minho held up a hand to try and cut him off, but Hyunjin paid him no mind.
“I just – you were my first hyung, not even Innie’s brother hung out with us – and you asked me to join the club – but, but you spent less and less time with us, you hung out with her instead, you – I – it felt so horrible, like you were abandoning us – I just –“
“Hyunjin, slow down –“
“I never wanted you to get hurt! It wasn’t – I didn’t know you would get sick, or that, that you would try to drive home – I just, you just – you always act so loopy after you take medicine, I thought I could embarrass you a little, and then noona would stop hanging out with you -!”
Minho marched forward, fell to his knees, and put a hand over Hyunjin’s mouth. Hyunjin blinked rapidly at him, a few tears glistening in his lashes. He said something else that was muffled by Minho’s hand, and Minho shook him a little.
“Hyunjin. Shut up for a second,” he said. Hyunjin flinched a little, and he felt horrible. He needed Hyunjin to stop word-vomiting, though. The explanations and apologies soothed something in him, yes, but it was an old, old wound by this point. It was just a cherry on top – appreciated, but wholly unnecessary. Minho didn’t need any more apologies from him. “Hyunjin. I forgive you, remember?”
Hyunjin shook his head. He gently grasped Minho’s wrist and pulled his hand away. “Hyung, you almost died,” he said miserably.
“So? It’s my near-death situation, not yours. I’m allowed to forgive you for it,” Minho retorted. “In fact, you’re not allowed to tell me that I can’t forgive you.”
“Hyung,” Hyunjin beseeched.
Minho tsked and flicked him on the forehead. Hyunjin yelped and fell back, once more in a heap on his blankets. “Could you have, like, not spiked my drink? Yeah, sure, but you were fourteen, and you’re kind of stupid even now. I’m not gonna hold that against you, man.” He pursed his lips, not liking how Hyunjin refused to meet his eyes. “I could’ve handled it better, too, y’know? I knew you were mad at me for something, and I avoided talking to you on purpose. I could’ve not pushed everyone else away after the fact, too, and I did anyway. We both messed up.”
“No way in hell are you comparing Hyunjin spiking your drink and nearly killing you to you being socially awkward and becoming a shut-in,” Seungmin chimed in unhelpfully.
“Again – it’s my near-death situation, so I make the rules.”
Seungmin groaned and rubbed his temple. “Hyunjin, I hate arguing with this guy, can you please just accept the olive branch so we can all move on with our lives?” He groaned. “I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to keep fighting in my second year of college about shit that went down when I was in middle school.”
“Listen to the dog. He has a point for once,” Minho said, earning a quiet ‘fuck you’ from said dog. Hyunjin timidly looked between the two of them before his shoulders fell and he released a long, drawn-out sigh.
“Everyone hates me now, even if you two don’t,” he said quietly.
“Oh, come on, you have watched me try to field their fucking phone calls because everyone and their mother wants to check up on you!” Seungmin snapped. “I am at the end of my rope with Changbin hyung, I’m so serious. If he calls me one more time asking about you I’m going to block him and then replace his protein powder with chocolate milk mix.”
“But, but Jisung said –“
“You’re going to let Jisung intimidate you?”
Hyunjin paused, blinking slowly. Minho watched as he visibly turned the thought over in his head. Then, his face scrunched up a bit, and he huffed. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right,” Minho said. He stood up and offered Hyunjin a hand to help him stand. “Now get your ass in the shower. We’re going to buy an unhealthy amount of fried chicken and invade hyung’s apartment.”
And they did. Seungmin fussed over him and the room as Hyunjin took his sweet time in the bathroom, stressing about the unkempt state of the room while simultaneously refusing to let Minho help. According to him, I.N had shown up a few hours after he’d ran off with Lee Know, so everyone was aware of his other self’s betrayal and Minho’s subsequent assumed kidnapping. Seungmin appeared quite torn up about the whole thing, constantly looking over his shoulder to glance at Minho while he straightened up Hyunjin’s side of the room. After a few too many times, Minho sighed, and opened his arms for a hug. Seungmin wasted no time in diving in and wrapping himself around Minho’s chest.
Silly, clingy puppy…
Once Hyunjin was out of the shower and no longer looking like he’d spent the last three days sobbing in his room, they went as a group to Minho’s favorite fried chicken spot. Minho hadn’t been kidding when he said they would get an unhealthy amount of food – all three of them held an almost comical amount of bags in their arms. Minho was fairly certain he hasn’t eaten since that dinner that he ran out on, so he was starving.
They hadn’t informed Chan or any of the others of their trip, in part because Minho wanted it to be a surprise, and also because of aforementioned full hands.
Minho kicked lightly at the door in lieu of knocking, and they waited. After a few minutes and some muffled chatter, the door opened to reveal Chan, who took one look at the three of them and sighed like a disappointed parent.
“Minho, you have got to stop doing this, mate,” he said. He took the bags from Minho’s arms, handled them blindly to someone behind him, and then pulled Minho into a bone-crushing hug. In his ear, he whispered, “I was so fucking worried about you.”
“I’m sorry, hyung,” Minho whispered back. “I’m okay. I’m here.”
Chan held him even tighter, and didn’t let go for a long, long time.
One month later, Minho once more stood at Chan’s doorstep, though he did not come with food. Once everyone had (eventually) settled after Minho’s returned, Chan put his foot down and demanded that they all meet up at his place every single week like clockwork. Minho assumed this iron-fisted rule would lessen once his poor hyung’s anxiety went down… which would likely be in ten years or so. It was mostly Minho’s fault, so he didn’t have much of a right to complain.
On that specific day, though, Minho was excited. He fought the urge to bounce out of his skin as he looked up at his hyung’s closed door.
He’d finally convinced Yongbok to visit.
He’d wanted Yongbok to come sooner – hell, he’d wanted Yongbok to come with him when he first came back – but Yongbok denied him time and time again. He needed to spend time with Stray Kids to reassure their own anxieties, he needed to talk with Chris and Hyunjin about the things he learned about Miroh while imprisoned, he wanted to re-dye his hair because really, hyung, you want them to see him when his roots look like this?
Excuses, for the most part. Minho let him have them, understanding how wracked his nerves must have been. Yongbok had never once entertained the thought that he could spend time with his old friends again. Minho understood that the whole thing was overwhelming.
Still. There was only so long that Minho could take with his family still fractured the way it is. He’s waited a long, long time for this to happen.
“And – and you’re sure they remember me?” Beside him, Yongbok gripped his hand anxiously, swimming in an adorably oversized sweater. His hair was once more the blonde that he always associated the boy with, though Minho would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the blue from before.
“Yes, Yongbok. I promise they remember you,” Minho said patiently. In the last month, he’s gotten several one-on-one apologies from each of his friends, each one of them confessing how horrible they feel now that they finally, finally remembered Yongbok. It was tough to listen to, though there was a shameful sliver of him that felt vindicated at their upset.
“And they want to see me again?” Yongbok asked with a nervous glance away. “I knew you were feeling bad that night, and I let you drive home anyway. I didn’t even tell anyone –“
Minho slipped a hand under his sweater and pinched his side, making him yelp. “Enough of that. We’re all moving on, remember? They’ve missed you, even if they didn’t know it until now.”
Yongbok’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath. He visibly pulled himself together, back straightening as he looked toward the door with determination. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. Knock?”
Minho knocked a cheerful rhythm. Someone shouted that the door was unlocked, so with a brief eye contact with his friend, Minho turned the knob and walked inside, Yongbok following closely behind.
Inside, everyone was scattered about. Changbin and Hyunjin sat at the coffee table with coloring books spread out around them, sharing a pair of earbuds connected to Changbin’s phone. Chan sat with his legs criss-cross on the couch, typing diligently away on his laptop. Pressed close beside him were Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin – Jeongin and Seungmin were playing some game on Jeongin’s Switch while Jisung equally cheered them on and heckled them.
Jisung was the first to look up and greet them, though he froze once he saw Yongbok. Minho felt Yongbok tense beside him, giving a small, hesitant wave. Several things flashed across Jisung’s face before his eyes began to shine with tears and a bright, shining smile spread across his face as he yelled out,
“Yongbok’s back!”