Minchan: Fighting The Storms With You

38

Life at the bungalow felt almost idyllic. Minho was beginning to show signs of healing, and we had found happiness in the small moments. But fate had other plans for us.

One evening, as we were winding down from a day spent exploring the forest and playing with the stray cats, the phone rang. It was rare for anyone to call the landline, and my heart skipped a beat as I answered.

"Chan? It's your mother," came the familiar voice on the other end.

"Mom? How did you get this number?" I asked, confused.

"I got it from Seungmin's mother," she said. "I needed to hear your voice, to know you're safe."

Something in her tone made me uneasy. "Mom, why would you need to call me here?"

There was a pause, and then she sighed. "Chan, I had to. Mr. Lee promised he would spare your life if I told him where you were."

My blood ran cold. "You did what?"

"Chan, I was scared! I thought it was the only way to keep you safe," she pleaded.

I hung up, my hands shaking. "Minho, we need to leave now," I said urgently.

Minho looked at me with wide eyes. "What happened?"

"No time to explain. We have to go," I insisted, grabbing his hand.

But before we could move, the door burst open, and there stood Mr. Lee, his eyes burning with anger.

"There you are," he sneered. "Thought you could hide from me?"

Minho's face went pale, and I could see the terror in his eyes. "Run, Minho!" I shouted, but Mr. Lee was too quick.

He grabbed me, his grip like iron. "You're coming with me," he growled, yanking me towards him.

Minho stepped back, looking around desperately for something, anything to use as a weapon. His eyes landed on a kitchen knife lying on the counter. He lunged for it, his hands trembling but determined.

"Let him go!" Minho cried, brandishing the knife.

Mr. Lee laughed, a cruel sound that echoed in the small space. "And what do you think you're going to do with that, boy?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect him," Minho said, his voice shaking but resolute.

Mr. Lee's eyes narrowed. "You're braver than I gave you credit for. But bravery won't save you."

In a swift motion, Mr. Lee flung me to the ground and charged at Minho. I scrambled to my feet, trying to intercept, but I was too slow. Minho slashed with the knife, a wild, desperate move. The blade sliced across Mr. Lee's arm, drawing blood.

Mr. Lee roared in pain and fury. He grabbed Minho by the wrist, twisting it until Minho dropped the knife with a cry of agony. The sound tore through me, fueling a surge of adrenaline.

"Stop it!" I yelled, rushing forward and tackling Mr. Lee. We crashed to the floor, and I fought with everything I had, landing punches and kicks. But Mr. Lee was stronger, more experienced. He threw me off with a powerful shove, and I hit the wall hard, stars exploding in my vision.

Minho, seizing the moment, tried to reach the knife again. But Mr. Lee was faster. He grabbed Minho by the neck, lifting him off the ground. Minho gasped, his hands clawing at Mr. Lee's arm, his face turning red.

"Minho!" I screamed, trying to push myself up.

With a snarl, Mr. Lee flung Minho across the room. Minho's body hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, motionless. I felt a surge of panic and rage. I charged at Mr. Lee again, but he was ready. He swung a heavy fist, and the world went black as it connected with my head.

---

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The sterile smell and beeping machines were disorienting. My body ached all over, and my head throbbed with pain.

"Chan?" A familiar voice brought me back to reality. It was Seungmin, his face pale and eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"Seungmin," I croaked. "What happened?"

He took a deep breath, struggling to keep his composure. "You were found outside the bungalow, unconscious. Minho must have dragged you out."

"Minho," I whispered, the memories flooding back. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

Seungmin's expression crumbled. "The bungalow... it caught fire. They found six bodies inside, too burnt to be identified, but... they believe Minho and Mr. Lee were among them."

"No," I choked out, tears streaming down my face. "No, Minho can't be... he can't be gone."

Seungmin's own tears fell as he hugged me tightly. "I'm so sorry, Chan. I'm so, so sorry."

The pain was unbearable, a deep, gnawing ache that seemed to consume my entire being. Minho was gone, and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. The boy who had brought light into my life, who had suffered so much, was gone.

The days that followed were a blur of grief and sorrow. I couldn't stop replaying that night in my mind, wondering if there was something I could have done differently, something that could have saved Minho.

As I lay in the hospital bed, the weight of our memories pressed down on me. The rooftop, the forest, the stray cats—all those moments we had shared, now tinged with unbearable sadness.

I clung to those memories, even as they brought tears to my eyes. Minho's laughter, his shy smiles, the way he looked at me with so much trust and love. He had been my everything, and now he was gone.

But even in my darkest moments, I knew I had to keep going. For Minho. To honor his memory and the love we had shared. It was what he would have wanted. And though the pain would never fully go away, I would carry him with me, in my heart, forever.

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I stood in front of the burnt-down bungalow, staring at its blackened walls and broken windows. The air smelled of smoke and pine trees from the nearby forest. It felt like a silent reminder of the night that turned my world upside down.

I hadn't gone to Minho's funeral. How could I, when deep down, I couldn't accept that he was gone? I held onto a small hope, thinking maybe one day he'd walk back into my life, like he always did.

But kneeling there on the ground, tears streaming down my face, reality hit hard. The bungalow, once our safe haven, was now a sad echo of what we once had. Memories flooded my mind—the laughter, the moments when Minho and I felt safe and happy together.

"I'm sorry, Minho," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I wish I could've done more."

The pain was overwhelming, like a heavy weight on my chest. I gripped the burnt ground, wishing for one more chance to tell him how much he meant to me.

But there was only silence, broken by the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. The forest seemed to mourn with me, as if it understood my loss.

"I thought we had more time," I said softly. "I thought..."

I couldn't finish. Grief choked my words. The reality of Minho not being here anymore was too much to bear.

But as I sat there, surrounded by the wreckage of our past, a flicker of warmth stirred inside me. It was Minho's spirit, his love still alive in my heart. He had taught me so much about love and courage.

And so, amidst the ruins, I made a promise to him. I promised to remember him always, to hold onto the moments we shared. I promised to keep living, to find happiness again, knowing that he would want that for me.

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the burnt bungalow, I stood up. I wiped away my tears, feeling a mix of sadness and determination.

"Goodbye, Minho," I whispered. "Until we meet again."

With that, I turned away from the ruins, leaving behind the ashes of our past. Ahead lay an uncertain future, but I knew Minho's love would guide me through the darkness.

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A/N: Is this the end?