Minchan: Fighting The Storms With You

53

Minho sat quietly in his seat, staring out the airplane window as the clouds passed by. Chan was beside him, his presence a steady anchor in the midst of the storm that was Minho's mind. The letter from Jungkook weighed heavily on him, each word echoing in his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Chan's voice broke through the silence, gentle yet concerned.

Minho didn't look at him, just nodded slightly. "Yeah... I'm fine," he murmured, though they both knew it wasn't true.

Chan sighed softly but didn't push further. Instead, he made sure Minho was comfortable, offering him water, reminding him to take his medicine. Minho appreciated it, though he didn't have the energy to say so. The nightmares had been relentless since they left, clawing at him, dragging him back to the darkness he had tried so hard to escape.

When they finally arrived in Korea, Han and Seungmin joined them. The three of them didn't bombard Minho with questions or pressure him to remember. Instead, they gently guided him to places that had once been significant in his life.

The rooftop was their first stop. Minho hesitated as they reached the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Seungmin asked quietly, his eyes filled with concern.

Minho swallowed hard and nodded. "I need to," he whispered.

As soon as he stepped onto the rooftop, memories flooded his mind. He saw himself there, standing next to Chan. "This is where we first met," Chan said softly, as if reading his thoughts.

"I... I remember," Minho said, his voice trembling. He saw Chan playing the guitar, the melody soothing the scars hidden deep within him. "You used to play for me," he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chan smiled sadly. "Yeah, I did. You always said it helped you sleep."

Minho nodded, blinking back tears. "I... I used to help you with your songs, right?"

"Yes," Chan replied, his voice gentle. "You were always good with words."

Minho's breath hitched as the memories came in flashes, each one more vivid than the last. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, hear the echo of their laughter. But the joy of those memories was tinged with sorrow, knowing how much had been lost, how much time had been stolen from them.

Next, they took him to Seungmin's house. Minho paused at the entrance, a strange familiarity settling over him. "I know this place," he said, his voice wavering.

Seungmin nodded. "You spent a lot of time here."

Minho walked through the house, his steps slow and deliberate. He knew where everything was, from the kitchen to Seungmin's room. "I remember laughing here... with you," Minho said, looking at Seungmin.

Seungmin smiled softly. "We had a lot of good times."

But the warmth of those memories clashed with the cold dread that had been building inside Minho. They hadn't even touched the darkest parts of his past yet, and he could already feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

Finally, they arrived at his childhood home. The moment they pulled up, Minho froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The house loomed before him, unchanged yet utterly foreign. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his feet felt glued to the ground.

"Minho..." Chan began, but Minho held up a hand, cutting him off.

"I need to do this," he said, his voice shaky but determined.

As he stepped inside, the memories surged forward with a force that left him breathless. He remembered everything—the pain, the fear, the helplessness. He saw his father's cold eyes, felt the sting of his beatings, heard the cruel words that had been etched into his mind.

"Minho, we're here for you," Han said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

But Minho shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No... no, don't touch me," he choked out, his voice raw with pain.

Chan tried to approach him, his expression filled with concern, but Minho pushed him away, his body trembling. "Don't... just don't," he sobbed, collapsing to his knees. The pain was too much, the memories too vivid. It felt like he was drowning, unable to breathe under the weight of his past.

"Minho, please... let us help," Chan pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

But Minho couldn't bear it. He needed to feel this pain, needed to let it consume him if he was ever going to move past it. He curled into himself, his sobs echoing in the empty hallway.

It took several minutes for him to gather the strength to stand, his legs shaky and weak. His mind was a whirlwind of emotion, the memories still fresh and raw. When they returned to the house, Minho didn't speak to anyone. He just went to his room, shutting out the world, and collapsed onto his bed.

The darkness of the room enveloped him, but it brought no comfort. The silence was filled with the echoes of his past, the horrors of his childhood, the love he had lost, and the confusion of his present. He had wanted to remember, but now that the memories were back, he wasn't sure he could handle them.

Hours passed, and the house was eerily quiet. Chan knocked softly on Minho's door, his voice gentle. "Minho... can I come in?"

Minho didn't respond, just lay there staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the horrors of his past. He felt so small, so broken. The man he had become felt like a stranger to him now, a mere shadow of the boy who had once known how to smile, how to love.

Chan hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door. "I'm coming in, okay?" he said softly.

Minho didn't move, didn't acknowledge him. Chan walked over to the bed and sat down beside him, his expression filled with worry and sadness. "You don't have to go through this alone," he whispered, reaching out to gently brush Minho's hair away from his face.

Minho finally turned to look at him, his eyes red and swollen from crying. "I... I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice breaking.

Chan's heart ached at the sight of him so broken. "It's okay," he said softly. "You don't have to know right now. Just... let yourself feel what you need to feel."

Minho nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "It hurts so much, Chan," he whispered.

Chan leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Minho's forehead. "I know it does," he whispered back. "But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this together."

Minho closed his eyes, letting Chan's words wash over him. He still felt lost, still felt like he was drowning in the memories of his past. But as Chan held him, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to face it all alone.

And for the first time in a long time, that thought brought him a small measure of comfort.