Just one more minute

story

The next morning the same 8 letters were the first thing he said after waking up.

I was too exhausted from the nightmare I didn't reply.

Later that evening I started talking. Whispering. But I spoke.

I told him about that day that ruined my life when I was six.

"I saw him coming back from outside. He was dizzy. Drunk, but I obviously didn't know that. I wanted to show him the picture I drew. Of me and him."

I took a deep breath not being used to long talks.

"He shoved me aside. He shouted. He said he didn't need my 'father and son stupid drawing' he went to the house bar."

Tears were threatening to spell and Minho's hand was right there ready to whip them.

"He took out a bottle but it crushed to the ground. He took another and drown half of it in one go. He was too dizzy, drunk at this point he couldn't control his body, so he slipped on the poured vodka and fell. His head hitting the ground right on the shattered glass.

I screamed. So loud. No one heard me. He died."

Minho hugged me.

And I let him. Which is weird because back then I didn't let anyone touch me.

Not that weird. Since I let him take my hands back then as well.