Secrets // Minsung ✓

Chapter 8

Chan was now standing in front of Minho's house. The latter hadn't shown up to school for several days and wouldn't accept any visits. He didn't want anyone seeing him in a vulnerable state. He didn't want Chan, Changbin, Woojin or Hyunjin visiting him—not even Jihna. Whenever they messaged him, he told them all not to bother him.

He was now coped up inside of his bedroom, eating snacks while watching television non-stop. Some might wonder if he didn't have any tutoring lessons. Well, he did, but he had not once opened the door when Jisung rang the doorbell. The latter also didn't have any way of contacting him—since they hadn't exchanged phone numbers—so Minho would expect him to get mad when he sees him next thing.

It was now weekend—Sunday. Chan knocked on the front door and didn't really expect it to open. And so it didn't. He sighed and turned around, walking away. Then suddenly, he heard the door unlock as someone opened it. He turned back around and saw Minho's father standing by the doorway. "Chan? Come in," he spoke, confused at first. Minho's friends don't usually stop by the house, especially not when his father was home. They had all once made a big mess and ever since then, Minho was restricted in the number of friends who were allowed to come over—but that was a long time ago.

Chan walked back towards the house and bowed slightly. "Thank you," He got inside and took off his shoes. "Is Minho home?" he questioned the man. Mr. Lee just didn't look like the kind of parent to let his child stay home for several days throughout an entire week of school.

"Yes, he's upstairs! I think he could use a friend right now," the man told him, to which Chan looked kind of confused. He had no idea why Minho hadn't come to school these past few days. The latter hadn't told them anything specific, just that he didn't want them to worry about it—and that it was nothing serious.

Chan walked upstairs slowly. And when arriving on the first floor, he just hoped he would recognise Minho's bedroom door. It had been ages since he had gone to the boy's room and this house was like a mansion—people could get lost if they didn't know where to go. So he couldn't quite remember where Minho's room was exactly situated.

Eventually, while roaming around, he had found the room he was looking for. He knocked onto the door softly, but didn't hear any response. He opened the door slowly and strangely saw Minho sitting in his bed—underneath his sheets and surrounded by snacks, wrappings laying around on the floor—as he was watching telivision. It was a strange sight to him, not because he hadn't seen it before, but because it had been about six to seven years since he'd last witnessed Minho like this.

The latter's gaze averted from the television towards Chan's presence—as his eyes grew wider by the second. Then Chan opened the door completely and stepped foot inside, pondering about what to say exactly—which was odd since he was usually very good with words. "Your dad let me in," he decided to mutter.

"What do you want, Chan?" Minho spoke up. He was feeling miserable as it was. The snacks didn't really help with that, he felt like vomiting it all up.

Chan walked towards Minho and shifted to the side of his bed. "I just wanted to see how you were doing... Not so great I'm assuming," To that, Minho let out a chuckle—because damn was that an understatement. "You know you can always talk to me, right?"

Minho's disturbed facial expression—because of Chan's sudden appearance—changed into a warm smile. "I know," Chan was Minho's best friend after all, the one he had known the longest of all his current friends.

"So tell me what's been bothering you," Chan spoke in a sincere tone. At first, Minho didn't want to fess up, but with some persuasion he eventually did. He talked about everything that had been bothering him. Everything that troubled his mind. Everything — except for one specific thing that nobody but himself knew about.

Chan tried giving Minho some advice, but it was hard thinking of answers if he hadn't really experienced any of what Minho was going through. "Start by being yourself again, meaning no rude remarks," He raised his eyebrows as he looked into Minho's eyes.

The latter groaned, slightly. "Wha— No way, no can do," Minho spoke loudly. He knew he needed change, and he really wanted to. Yet, being nice towards everyone just seemed wrong. He had given rude remarks for at least a decade. How was he supposed to stop now? This was going to be harder than he thought it would be.

"Just try, okay? You'll survive," Chan said with a chuckle underneath his breath. Minho nodded, hesitantly. Chan got lost in his own thoughts as he was pondering about some things. "You know what... I know what you need," he said, a wide grin suddenly seen on his face.

Minho wondered what Chan was talking about, even though he really didn't want to do anything but laze around. "What?"

"A party," Chan suddenly shouted as he jumped up, throwing his arms in the air. When he was done with his little excitement dance, he cleared it up to Minho, thinking he might be confused. "My party, remember?" He raised his eyebrows and showed Minho a bright smile, showing his dimples.

Minho just chuckled at how silly his friend can be sometimes. He showed Chan a sheepish smile in return. "Sorry, but I'm not really in a partying mood today,"

Yet, Chan kept fighting back and insisting it would do him more good than bad. "Come on," he whined, pulling Minho's arm. "It'll make you feel better, I promise!" he said in a determining manner.

Minho noticed the small pout appearing on Chan's face and immediately smacked his head, softly, of course. He chuckled under his breath as he said, "Fine,"

[A/N]
Welll,,, I've been dead longer than I wanted to be buttttt here I ammm!!!
I have been having plural mental breakdowns sooo yeah

Q; how are you all doing?

A; Not that great, but imma spare y'all that rant :')))

To be continued ;)