𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 - 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆

33 | SIMILARITIES

I heard the doorbell, making me stop my drawing, and heard a voice downstairs.

I furrow my brows, we never had guests but it could just be the cleaners. I continue to draw but was yet again stopped when I heard someone come upstairs, soon there were a few knocks on my door.

I got up, walked to my door, and unlocked it "What mom-" I stop mid-sentence when it wasn't my mom.

"I'm mom now?" Minho jokes and I roll my eyes, walking away from the door and Minho walks in with a chuckle.

His eyes roam my room like he hasn't been in here before, both of our eyes go to my desk, and then we both slowly look at each other. Fuck.

I hurry to the desk and close my sketchbook, putting it in the drawer. I turn around as Minho laughs and sits on my bed.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, slowly walking to sit beside him.

Sitting down and facing him, my legs were crossed my hands were in my lap. I didn't look the best today, in a big baby blue sweater and sweats.

It was after school and maybe if I decided to go today then I would look more presentable but I didn't.

Minho looks at me "I came to check on you" I nod slowly "How are you now?"

"Now?" I inhale and shrug "I'm fine"

Minho searches my face and seems to not believe me but doesn't push for an honest answer. He looks away from me for a second, his eyes roaming my room again.

"Is my room that interesting?" I joke and Minho looks at me again with a small smile.

"You know, I continue to find similarities in us"

I furrow my brows, looking over my room again. It was neat, but not clean. Art supplies were scattered on my desk which was stained with paint. Blank canvases leaned up against the walls, along with unfinished ones. All black and white. Random drawings I did growing up were hanging on my walls, some were horrible but I thought they had character so I kept them up.

"How so?" I ask curiously, looking over to Minho.

"Well for starters, I don't let anyone in my room. I noticed that recently that you always lock your door" I nod slowly "Why is that?"

I shrug, "It started as a habit" My hands fiddled with each other in my lap. "But the older I got the more personal my room felt... I don't think that makes sense" I chuckle nervously.

"It does," Minho says, settling my growing nerves.

"And you?"

Minho let's put a breathy chuckle "Well, for me-" He looks up and meets my gaze. "I've always been private, even when I was younger. I-" He stops and looks away, hesitating to finish "I took longer than normal to start talking," He said lowly, not looking into my eyes "At first my parents didn't really know how to handle it or what I wanted because I was young and eventually I got to the point where I could write and I would have to write things down and tell them what I wanted and all that"

"I-I didn't know that" I mumble, Minho chuckling and looking at me.

"Nobody does" He doesn't look away but continues, "They thought something was wrong with me, and we went to the doctors multiple times but everyone said I was normal. Eventually, it was known that I just didn't talk because I was always scared to"

I frown "How did you—When did you start talking?"

"When I was ten" He chuckles and turns more to me. "My parents adopted my brother and I was really upset. The first time I spoke was actually screaming and then I got scared and ran to my room" I chuckle and stare fondly at the boy in front of me. Minho smiles at me "You're the first person here to know about this"

"Not even Chan and Changbin?" Minho shook his head. I back onto my hands "What else makes us similar?"

"You once said you draw your emotions," He said and I nod "You have your sketchbook and I have my journal and in a way, it is us expressing ourselves without actually having to"

I nod slowly "Yeah" I look down "That's exactly it"

"Did you always feel this way?" I look up and give him a questioning look. "Like you couldn't tell anyone how you felt?"

My eyes wandered around the room in thought before nodding "Yeah, kinda" I chuckle awkwardly.

I meet his eyes but that didn't last more than a second as I felt his strong gaze on me. Looking down I said "I don't want to blame my parents for my lack of emotions or my shit way of showing how I feel. I don't, but growing up I was never asked how I felt and when I was it felt more of a chore than care. It was always expected of me to be happy and do good"

"Because of your name?" I looked up and nod.

"People expect us to be happy because of the money. They expect us to be perfect and are happy when they see we're not" I shrug "I don't get it"

"I think I should teach you a thing or two about not caring what people say" Minho spoke softly and genuinely.

"I think I'd pay to get taught that" We both laugh loudly.

We sat here talking about the things I didn't expect, things I never told anyone and I'm sure he did the same.

This is what Minho and I were at the end of this and everything that happened, this was us.

We understood each other in a way that nobody did. He came here and he made me forget about the world outside of my room.