The Aged | Gyuhao (Sequel to Youth)

- 24

| Chapter Twenty - Four — Here |
| Night of Minghao's disappearance |

Minghao stares at a sleeping Mingyu with a smile on his face.

He knows what he did was wrong, sleeping with or even having any romantic interaction with a member of Carmine was strictly forbidden, and leader of the exact rival gang or not, protocol was meant to be listened to.

He leans against the headboard with a sigh, fingertips grazing across Mingyu's forehead as he plays with the older man's hair.

Mingyu was always a hard sleeper. You could slam a door or even go as far as to punch him in the face, he would not wake up.

You'd usually just have to wait for his body to tell him to.

Minghao frowns at the many memories that suddenly claw at his brain. He feels a deep hole in the pit of his chest form, heart rattling as it's thrown deep inside to drown.

He glances at the clock next to him, time reading 1:38am.

It's late, or early, Minghao never understood that. But nonetheless, he slides out of bed, slipping on his clothes quickly, eyes flickering between the bedroom door and Mingyu's sleeping figure.

When he makes it to the door without a thought in his head of staying, he finds himself looking at Mingyu again.

This could be his one chance to leave. He could put Mingyu's sleeping habits to good use and take out whoever the fuck was guarding this place and escape as soon as possible.

But there's a problem.

And that problem is that he wants to do anything but leave.

He should. He really should just take the chance and bolt out of here with every intention of doing so. He should book it and find a way to contact his people and go back home.

But where was home?

It wasn't Cerise even though it had to be.

As much as he hated it, and as much as Minghao would rather die than admit it—

Mingyu was his home.

Not Korea, not China, not Japan.

Mingyu.

He only realizes that as soon as he's stepping outside, feeling the cold air nip at his skin as he glances both ways. He's standing on Carmine's leader's doorstep, weaponless and on the verge of tears. It's embarrassing.

The door tips shut behind him, he doesn't notice until the click of it closing rings through his pink tipped ears.

It's cold. Freezing, in fact.

He looks down the driveway, scared to move any further.

He wonders why there's seemingly no people out here. Had Mingyu been tricking him all this time? Telling him this place was heavily guarded with nowhere to escape when in reality it was easy to slip out at any time?

He could leave now. He should.

He doesn't want to.

But he has to.

Minghao takes his lip between his teeth, feeling the saltiness of his own tears land on his tongue as they finally roll down his face, spilling past his lashes in the forms of every type of emotion he hasn't been capable of feeling for almost a year.

This fucking sucks.

Choosing between love and loyalty.

It sucks.

With a wobbly foot, he finally takes his first step. It's not forward, just like it's not left or right.

It's backwards.

He's choosing love.

He's choosing Mingyu. He's choosing him.

His hand barely gets to graze the doorknob before the blurry shadow of a person is walking towards him, his foggy head catching the burn of a rose engraved in their wrist.

Minghao blinks, "W-Who—" His breath gets caught in his throat as soon as something sharp is sinking into the vein of his neck, choking him dry and adding an unknown liquid to his bloodstream.

"Quiet." The person whispers to him, Minghao's skin so numb he can barely feel the needle slipping out of his throat, "Get him," The voice says, Minghao can only assume they're talking to other people. He can faintly make them out, but it's hard when his vision begins to fail.

The shine of blondish hair fans before him.

He can't even talk. His brain has turned to mush and his tongue feels a thousand pounds. It's like he's incapable of forming a single sentence, word, letter even.

He can't talk. His body's weakening.

Minghao can't see, but he can feel himself being loaded into a couple pairs of arms. He thinks one person's on his left while the other's on his right. He's sandwiched in between two strangers and he can't do a single thing about it. 

"Hold him," Minghao's eyes have closed, so he's grateful his ears haven't failed him yet, "Careful. Boss wants him without a scratch."

Boss?

What was going on?

Where was he being taken?

And Jesus Christ, could Minghao get a break from all the kidnapping?

The last thing he hears is the sound of the gravel in Mingyu's driveway as whatever vehicle he's been thrown into finally drives away, the low hum of the engine vibrating his body.

Then, he slips into his own head.

____

sorry for the slow updates :( my physical health hasn't been the best lately. writing has been helping with it though! so look forward to more updates. i hope to finish this story soon!