Odd and Varied

Freeze 1

"I SAID FREEZE! Unless you want me to make a few holes in your chest."

Jisung turned slowly with his hands up, breath coming out of his open mouth in big puffs of white. It was bound to snow soon.

He must be cold- Minho thought suddenly, noticing his scant leather jacket and thin long-sleeved shirt. "Dad please, stop!" he tried, knowing it was useless. His father never listened to him.

"Get in the house. Both of you."

Jisung's eyes bounced between them. He wanted to run, but the shotgun was still cocked and aimed in his direction.

The boys headed in, the elder man behind them. The fire roared pleasantly, changing the numbness in his fingers to a buzzing of new blood. Jisung was scared, it was evident in the way his eyes moved, how his chest rose and fell.

They'd met a year ago. Jisung had a father a lot like his- too handsy, not good at talking things out. It was how he'd noticed him to begin with. Minho had been propped in the swing, angry that he couldn't play baseball with everyone else. The black eye was throwing his vision off just a little too much.

"So? What did you do?" Jisung asked, sporting his own mostly healed black eye on the same side.

"What?"

"What was it? Leave the bathroom light on? Five minutes too late in grabbing him a beer? What was it?"

He flushed, surprised at the confident ease with which he spoke about the topic. "Oh... laundry- ahem- uh, laundry soap. I forgot to buy laundry soap."

"Laundry soap! Of course! Definitely a punching offense."

Minho surprised himself by laughing. "And uh- what about you?"

"Oh you mean this? This is for spilling the milk on the floor."

"Ah, of course. An equally obvious punching offense."

The two boys grinned at each other, becoming fast friends.

They instantly started to help each other out, be the other's crutch in times of need. It was nice and different having someone to call, having a person to run to who could understand.

"Minho?" Jisung rang in desperately one night, and he could hear shattering glass and screaming in the background.

"What is it Sung?"

"Can I- woah there Pops, think about your heart condition! Hey, hey!" the line went dead.

Five minutes of terror later, Jisung called him back.

"Oh my God are you alright?"

He was running. There was wind and the sound of his shoes hitting the ground in the silence of the night. "Yeah. I'm coming over though. Your dad's already asleep, isn't he?"

"I think so, but I'll check." Minho snuck halfway down the stairs and hung his head through the bannister. "Yeah. Passed out. He won't be up again tonight."

"Good. Hah, hah- because I'm coming over."

"Okay, you'll have to climb into my window though. He can't usually hear me saying 'yes sir' from a few feet in front of him, but the man can always hear the door open."

They laughed and hung up. Minho grabbed the rope ladder he'd made in the summer and threw it out, waiting for the boy to show up.

Jisung was shaking when he pulled himself in through the window. Minho noticed the blood on his torn shirt and wordlessly started looking for wounds.