Born From Kings - Minsung (Promise Sequel)

Chapter Twenty Three

Hyunjin kept looking at the clock anxiously. His toe tapping on the ground, he kept brushing his hair out of his eyes before letting it drop into his face once again. Over and over as he waited.

Jisung sat next to him, biting at his fingernails. The two of them sat side-by-side on the couch, waiting for time to pass. They had to wait a little bit longer... just a little bit...

Chan walked into the room. His eyes ran over to two young men who were clearly very nervous before he sighed and walked into the kitchen. "There's no point in just sitting there, it's not going to do anything for him."

"Five more hours and we can report him as missing," Jisung muttered, shaking his head as he watched the seconds tick by on the clock. 

"Here," Chan handed him a cup of water. "And quit chewing on your nails, you're going to ruin your fingers."

Jisung took a shaky sip of water. 

Changbin walked into the room after Chan, Felix hot on his heels. Changbin took one look at the two young men and groaned. "Please, he's trapped in like, his super ultra expensive family home for a few hours and you're freaking out?"

"There's more to it than that, and you know it-" Jisung growled. 

"Why do you even care?" Changbin turned to Jisung. "A few weeks ago you could care less about this guy, why is he suddenly such a high priority?" 

"That's none of your business." 

"Hold on," Felix put his hand on Changbin's shoulder gently. "We're all nervous I think, right? Let's all just sit down and eat."

"I agree. I very much agree," Chan grabbed Changbin's arm and dragged him out of the room, Felix falling in behind them.

Jisung looked over at Hyunjin, who was staring out the window, his knee tapping. 

"Oh-!" Jisung stood up and also walked out of the room.

~~~

"SHIT-" Minho lunged out of bed, gasping as blood ran out of his nose and down from a puncture in his lip. 

"What the hell," Minho reached up and touched the blood running down from his hairline. "What did I do, slam my face into a wall?"

Minho stood up from his bed and walked over to the window, pressing his hands against the cool surface.

Stupid, stupid dreams. Why did this keep happening to him? Minho clenched his fists and groaned, turning and pressing his back to the window now. 

Just when he thought things were going to get better... 

The dream itself hadn't been all that eventful. But the emotions that filled the dream had been some of the worst he'd ever felt.

Some child, probably his child, had been hurt, injured, maybe killed. He couldn't be sure of what exactly happened. He couldn't even piece it together himself.

But... there had been someone else there as well. There had been another person clinging to him, sobbing with him as he grieved. 

A brother? A son? Someone along those lines. He had for sure been a man though, Minho had been clinging to him like he was a life boat, that was a man's body. 

But the relationships between the different people in his dreams were stumping him, which was going to be a big problem. See, if all the relationships were clear than even with the spotty historical records, it would be possible to figure out the person from Minho's dreams.

But without that certainty, it would be very easy to jump over a name only mentioned once or twice throughout all surviving history books. 

The clock was telling him that it was nine in the morning, and just about time for breakfast...