Memory of July 2014
AGES: CN 22, MH 17, CB 14, HJ 10, TL 8, JN 5.
It was 2:00 pm on a Thursday afternoon.
Chan was in the middle of talking with a client about a publication he was going to be translating, when he started getting a steady stream of incoming text notifications.
"Oh. I'm so sorry." He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to silence it.
He caught a quick glimpse of one of the messages:
[CHAN HYUNG! I WANT TO KILL THEM.]
It was from Minho. Chan gulped.
"Would you excuse me for a moment?"
Chan said politely as he got up and went outside his office.
He quickly called Minho.
"Min? What's wrong?" Chan asked as Minho picked up.
"THEY'RE BEING AWFUL!" Minho said with immense frustration.
Chan sighed. "Which ones?"
"Hyunjin. Felix. Jeongin." Minho said, listing them off like a prison warden.
"What did they do?"
"FIRST, they took all of their blankets off their beds, and put them outside in the garden. THEN, they took a bunch of food out of the fridge, and set it up on the blankets, AND, as they were doing that, they spilled all this juice everywhere in the kitchen, so when I went in there, I slipped on it and cut my arm on the stupid chair. AND THEN, I went outside to see what they'd done, and as soon as I got there, I saw all the blankets and the food, and I was mad, so I told them to clean it up before they all got spanked. But they all ran inside the house, and I don't know where! AND THEN! It started raining! So, I had to clean up all of this food, and by that time, their blankets were all muddy and wet! AND THEN, I went downstairs to start washing the blankets, which is going to take FOREVER. AND THEN, I went back upstairs to look for them. And do you know where they are?"
"Where?" Chan asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.
"On the roof."
"WHAT?!"
"YES."
"HOW?!"
"The little window. In your bedroom. The one that opens onto that little piece of roof."
"No."
"Yes."
"Did you tell them to come in?"
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Party of Eight
FanfictionA story of brotherhood. Chan was just 20 years old and about to take on a responsibility that he wasn't sure he could handle. Born to a drug addicted mother, and never having known his father, he grew up taking care of himself. When his mom had mor...
