𝓒𝓱; 88 𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

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Minho held his hand out to the approaching car until it came to a halt. He pulled open the door, sliding into the backseat of the car. "Could you please drive to this place?" Minho asked, holding out his phone to the taxi driver, who nodded. He leaned back into the seat as the car drove off. Crossing his arms, he watched the outside world pass by in a flash, images blurring into a stroke of color rather than a vivid picture. 


He thanked the driver once he stood on the sidewalk, giving a quick bow. Minho turned back to the building in front of him, towering over him. Before thinking too much, he set foot in it, arriving in the same grand hall he had always arrived at. There was no need to ask for directions. He knew where everything was, anyway. So Minho trudged onto the first stairs he saw around the corner. Passing by a few halls and taking a few turns, an office appeared ahead, the door just a slightly darker color of brown than the other ones, and a golden plate put to it. He exhaled, ignoring the lump in his throat. It only took a few steps for him to knock on the door. After the third knock, a voice yelled from the other side of the door. "Come in!" 

The handle creaked, as it probably hadn't gotten fixed in quite a while. Minho shut the oak door close, walking over to the desk. 

"Lee Minho, we are so glad to see you back." the principal stated, shaking his hand. Minho gave him a nod. "How has your recovery been going?" 

"I receive therapy a few times a week. For the rest, I am recovering well."  

"That is great to hear. I'm sure that's one of the reasons you wanted to return here as well. We won't dig too much into that. I think you just want to start, am I right?" The principal chuckled after his sentence, standing up from his chair. "I will show you to the practice hall." 


As they walked through the building, Minho met with the large halls he was familiar with, passing by different studios with, in each and every one of them, classes being thought. It gave him a strange feeling of nostalgia as he walked through the last hall, revealing a grand space with a stage on the left side and the rest of the room filled with chairs. It's where they gave all the performances. Minho didn't even notice the smile that crept on his face. Walking past the curtains, they entered the back stage. 

"Minho!" his teacher greeted, eyes widened with surprise as she averted herself from the crew setting something up for a practice. "What are you doing here?" 

"I have decided to return." 


The sun was setting by the time he arrived at the studio. Minho pushed open the studio door, which required some backbone before it even budged. And, with a huff, he entered. Hyunjin looked over his shoulder. "I heard you're returning to the academy?" 

"For some reason, it's always like you know these things before I even get to say them." Minho dismissed, blunt. He slouched his bag onto a chair and stretched himself. Minho then walked over to his spot, where he continued his warm-up. Hyunjin scoffed, his head dropping as a chuckle elicited from his mouth. "Only because I love gossip." 

"So, you're really leaving us again?" 

"No one said anything about me leaving," Minho interfered, trying to be as nonchalant as he could, eyes set on Hyunjin through the reflection of the mirror. Hyunjin's lips curled upward into a smirk. "Of course, you would miss us too much." 

"No one would miss you, Hyunjin." the older retorted, having to uphold his typical sharp personality. "Ouch," the other said, clenching a hand to his chest, breaking into a fit of laughter. Minho shook his head, however, secretly hiding a smile as he stretched to the other side. "Just turn on the music." he demanded although Hyunjin could, very well, define that he didn't mean any of that harsh tone he was getting. He had been friends with him far too long to figure him out. 

"Yes, boss," Hyunjin complied with a motion of his hand, pressing the button 'play', and hollering over to his position, barely in time to catch the first counts. 

𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅𝒔 - 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓰Where stories live. Discover now