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They reached their hotel in time for dinner, a dinner that would probably turn into room service once they collapsed in their assigned accommodation. No one seemed to be too hungry for once, as they’d snacked all day while travelling in their minivan. Whoever had thought it was a good idea to put the eight of them into a single vehicle all the way from Paris… well, they were still alive and talking to each other. Maybe the huge supply of snacks had been a brilliant piece of strategic planning from the staff. That and a few well-planned breaks.
Minho was convinced Binnie would be looking for the gym before checking into his room. Chan might not be far behind him. Personally, he wanted to go for a walk and explore the city. The long journey had made him restless, and he found walking was the best therapy, especially when he wanted to be alone.
OK, so the journey hadn’t been that bad. They left Paris in the morning, heading for Calais. Between I.N and Seungmin singing, it wasn’t hard to fall back asleep. He loved their voices joined in a duet; the extra singing lessons paid off with a vengeance. They’d chosen classic ballads and some of the calmer songs from their own back catalogue. Han was gently snoring before they reached the outskirts of the city.
Felix had snuggled next to Hyunjin, who was sad leaving his beloved Paris. Yongbok always gravitated towards the member who needed the most comfort. He was the Groups’ natural emotional band aid. The human equivalent of a weighted therapy blanket. Minho was personally grateful for Felix; you could rely on him to pick up the most subtle changes in mood, in turn his Hyung’s made sure he too was looked after when it all got too much.
They flipped a coin to decide between taking the ferry or tunnel. He’d hoped to stay above the water, mostly because he wanted to see the White Cliffs that had featured in Jay Chou’s MV. They ended up on the LeShuttle which did cut down travel time and saved some upset tummies but had no views to speak of...
Han pointed out they wouldn’t been able to see those cliffs anyway as they were traveling to the wrong section of the English coastline. He was trying to be helpful, but it sounded like a lecture, like Minho should’ve known better. He was half expecting to be asked to come up with another acrostic poem to prove he was smart, so instead he smiled his resigned smile and closed his eyes.
Felix shifted in his seat to hold his hand. Minho didn’t open his eyes but squeezed the warm hand on top of his in silent thanks. Things had been a bit tense recently and Minho was choosing not to fight. Some conversations were not possible in front of the kids. Some conversations would have to wait for a better moment, one that might not appear anytime soon.
He knew Han wasn't a mean person but there was a lump in his throat and a tense feeling in his stomach. He normally didn't shy away from addressing problems head on but this one... this one was different.
Their earlier arrival in the UK allowed the driver to make a quick detour to Dover. It might have been the wrong section of the White Cliffs… but it was a sweet gesture from the staff. They admitted that they’d planned to stop there even if they’d taken the ferry, which could now be seen in the little port below them. The people looked tiny from that height.
It was a bright day with the bluest sky and scattered white clouds, shading the sun for a few seconds at a time. The water was a curious shade of grey green with whisps of white gracing the wave peaks. The wind carried the scent of the sea. It felt strangely familiar and new at the same time.
The paths along the top of the cliffs seemed relatively quiet and free of other tourists. It was mid-week at the end of summer. Minho didn’t know if the schools here went back at the same time as those back home, but he was grateful it wasn’t crowded. The view towards Dover castle was stunning and everyone took their phones out to take photos. Even he couldn’t resist a selca to send to his parents.
In contrast, their hotel seemed to be in the centre of the metropolis. Seven Dials was as close to the heart of London as you could wish to be – galleries, museums, shops, theatres… all were in walking distance. The King’s official residence, countless government buildings and Big Ben – all minutes away. Minho wasn’t sure which way to go first, as the name suggested, there were seven directions to choose from by the Radisson Blu.
He dumped his bag onto the bed, had a quick shower and changed into a baggy hoodie. He’d borrowed one of Han’s bucket-hats some time ago and he put it on together with a clean face mask. Within 15 minutes he was out the front door and walking towards Trafalgar Square. He felt like a tourist, incognito and free to explore. There was no plan, no route. He wanted to walk wherever his feet led him, guided by whatever caught his eye. He’d taken his phone in case anyone needed to reach him… or if he needed help translating English.
The streets were busy, and a light breeze hit your face as you crossed the narrow roads. Minho remembered that Chinatown was close-by and contemplated getting some food but dismissed it just as quickly. He needed to walk. Food could wait.
Subconsciously he knew he’d be heading for the river. He always gravitated towards water, it had a calming effect on him, letting him relax and put thoughts in order. The minivan had taken them over Tower Bridge at a crawl, so they’d had plenty of time to take in the views. A large number of high rises had appeared behind the magnificent Tower of London and even more on the horizon towards the old docks. The Thames was a gateway that snaked through the city connecting different parts.
This part of London didn’t appear to have particularly tall buildings but had plenty of small shops, cafes, and restaurants. He counted at least three theatres in the short distance to Nelson’s Column and Trafalgar Square looked pretty with its two fountains, their light blue water reflecting the colour of the tiles. A child was splashing through one of them, bare feet and wet clothes amusing passers-by, if not the parents. Minho smiled under his mask; he found it funny too as the parents clearly didn’t want to go in after the child and the boy wasn’t responding to being called. His cats were better trained and more obedient.
He stood at the balustrade with the National Gallery behind him, taking in the view and trying to decide between going to Buckingham Palace or Parliament. He nearly turned around as a familiar voice reached his ears. It took a couple of seconds to register the meaning of the overheard words, but it seemed he wasn’t the only one to sneak out of the hotel. Felix was dragging Hyunjin to the gallery and they had a bit over an hour till it closed. He tilted his head and watched them from the corner of his eye. They too had covered their faces with hats and masks in an attempt at anonymity. Credit to them, if it wasn’t for Felix’s voice, he wouldn’t have noticed them walk past.
Minho wondered if the others had also opted to go out. He could just see I.N persuading Seungmin to go shopping in Oxford Street, their maknae’s love of clothes being infamous. That would leave Han… he instinctively reached for his phone to check for messages. Nothing. The pang in his chest returned and he started walking. He looked at the long straight road towards Big Ben and opted for the trees he could see peeking from the other side of Admiralty Arch. Green was a calming colour and the wind in the leaves would sound like waves.