Youth | Gyuhao

- 55

| Chapter Fifty - Five — ArRIVAL |

Mingyu slams the car door shut as soon as he arrives, jaw clenched in an unbelievable amount of anger he himself never knew he was capable of having. He doesn't bother turning off the ignition, Minghao being the only thing on his mind.

His safety.

Minghao's safety and every single hair on his head was all that mattered.

As soon as he pushes past the surprisingly unlocked gates, Mingyu notices that there are 2 men guarding the front doors when he makes it up the tortuously long driveway.

He doesn't let them get a word out before he's knocking them both out cold.

He slams his fist against the guy on the right, using his body as leverage to toss at the one on the left. He watches them both hit the concrete harshly. He doesn't care if they're dead.

He barges into his father's building, steam practically fuming out his ears. He looks like a cartoon, all blushed and pink, chest heaving from pure rage. From pure anger.

He eventually loses count of how many people he beats up on the way to his father's office, only realizing all the work he'd put in when he pushes past the double doors, out of breath and sweaty.

His father looks up from his desk and smiles that sickening smile, "Hello, son."

"Where is he." Mingyu demands. Not asks. Demands.

"Why must we get straight to that? Here, have a seat. Let's talk," Mr. Kim says, "We should have a little father-son heart to heart. We haven't had one in years, come on."

Mingyu takes a step closer, face morphed into so many emotions it's hard to pinpoint even one, "I won't ask again—" Mingyu slams a hand to his father's desk, "Where the fuck is he."

Mr. Kim sighs, hands interlaced on his desk in front of him, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't use that language on me son."

"Yeah? What the hell will you do?" Mingyu snorts.

"You seem to easily forget that I have your little boyfriend locked away somewhere— Someplace you'll never find him."

Mingyu shudders in rage, "If you touch one hair on his head, so help me God—"

"Goodness, calm down, calm down." His father sighs like this whole conversation's a waste of time, "He's fine. I haven't been able to touch him yet. In fact, we were waiting for you to get here to start all the fun."

Mingyu grits his teeth, "What are you saying?"

Mr. Kim sighs, leaning back in his seat and swaying back and forth. He looks off into the distance as if to reminisce, finger on his chin and everything, "Your godparents were wonderful people, son. Sure, everybody makes mistakes, but I wouldn't have asked them to be your 2nd family if I didn't see the genuine love they had for you."

"I don't understand." And Mingyu doesn't.

"Well, did you know that they in fact had a son of their own?" His father cocks a brow.

Mingyu'a face twists, "What? No— No, they would've told me. You would've told me. Somebody would've told me." How could his godparents possibly have had a kid themselves? Mingyu would definitely have known about it.

"They didn't wish for you to know," Mr. Kim sighs, "They did hit the child a bit, but you have to know that they deeply resented their son— said he was the world's evilest child all the way up until their deaths. You were 19, don't you recall?" His father asks, "And you two are the same age, actually. He was 19 as well when his parents passed." Mr. Kim grins.

Mingyu can feel the echo of his heartbeat ring in his ears uncomfortably, "I—" He shakes his head, "What are you trying to tell me?"

Mr. Kim smiles, "Come on, son. I know you're quick witted. So tell me," He leans back up, arms on his desk again, "How did they die? Do you remember? Hmm?"

Mingyu knows. He just doesn't want to give his father the satisfaction.

Car crash.

A bad one.

But like always, his father seems to read him like an open book, "You know."

"No shit, I know." Mingyu slams his hands on the desk angrily, deciding that secrets piling on top of secrets was in fact more painful than the truth, "Why are you bringing all this shit up all of a sudden? Why are you giving me this unnecessary speech when you should be telling me where the fuck you've put Minghao?"

"Because he's just the key, son." His father grins, "Let me ask you, has he told you about his family?"

Mingyu blinks at the question, dumbfounded.

Because no— Minghao has never really spoken about his family.

Barely, actually.

"Your godparents had a son." Mr. Kim reminds him, "Let that sink in."

It's like a bomb has gone off in Mingyu's heart.

"There's—" He shakes his head, "There's no way. He... He would've told me."

"Even the best of people keep secrets, Mingyu. That's just how the world works."

"No." Mingyu can't believe his ears. In fact, he doesn't want to.

Everything Minghao had never told him these past few months was finally rising up to the surface. Every hint and every clue. Every coverup and every fight they had.

Minghao's a person who's scared to get close to people. He's a person who starts fights with you to get it all out of the way because he's scared you'll be the one to leave first. He's a person who doesn't talk about his past, or about himself at all because he's scared of his own truth.

"He killed them, son."

Minghao's a person who's a murderer.

"He was the one in the truck that night," His father's voice is making his ears feel like they're bleeding, the truth clawing at his eardrums and making him shiver down to the absolute bone, "He rammed into his parents' own vehicle because he couldn't deal with them anymore."

Mingyu's shaking.

"That's his truth, son. That's who he is."

Mingyu's mind is running haywire.

Minghao's killed people. He's a murderer.

But as Mingyu slips out his gun and runs out of the room to look for Minghao, he realizes something.

So is he.