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Summary
As he rides the elevator down to the ground level he stares at his reflection in the mirrored back wall. What is he even doing? Where is he even going? He has no phone. No money. No sense of direction or purpose. He just has the overwhelming urge to leave and walk and breathe in the night air. The urge to feel discharged from the confines of the penthouse. The birdhouse.The birdcage.
The urgency to use his free will.
Chan offers a sombre gaze towards Minho. “My love, my precious little dove…” He sighs in complaint. “You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.” Chan smiles with sadness gleaming through his dark eyes as he brushes his finger delicately against Minho’s cheekbone, it’s chilling and ice-cold. “Such a clever little thing, more like a curious kitten than a bird sometimes, hm? So devious, Lee Minho.”
Or
Minho spends most of his days lost in vivid hallucinations, blurring the lines between what is a dream and what is real. Chan takes care of him so well, so why does it feel like something isn't quite right?