Into the Hornet's Nest

17

          Minho had been concerned after the first week of Han ghosting him, no texts or calls answered. He thought maybe the kiss had scared him off again, making him feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. Then, as he was walking into the house after leaving Han's store only to be told 'he quit,' he saw the first note. A purple sticky note on his front door, Minho took it down and read it with furrowed brows. 'I'm sorry, hyung.' Minho's mouth had gone dry, rushing through the door only to find another note on the wall in front of him. 'I had to leave. I tried to come see you.' Minho had begun crying then, entirely confused and his heart sinking. He had missed the most important person in his life on his way out of it. He goes into another room to find more pieces of Han. He chuckled sadly at one that told him he 'should really lock his door.' The small smile left him quickly, scanning over notes such as 'I don't know when I can come back,' 'I won't be able to get in contact,' and 'if you leave before I'm home, I'm so sorry.' As if that wasn't enough, he had trailed the line of notes up into the attic, and on the couch sat the words that had broken him that day. Sitting on the couch, in the handwriting of the person he adores more than anyone else in the world, is a confession. 'I never got to tell you, but I was falling in love.' He flipped through the notes stuck beneath it. All together it had read 'If we never get to talk again, thank you for being in my life. I think I'm going to love you for a long time. Find yourself, then come find me. You'll always be my favorite what if.' Minho had ended up sobbing in the attic until he physically went numb, staring at the star lights above him. His chest felt heavy, but the tears stopped.

          He had screamed, his throat hurting so badly he couldn't swallow without wincing.

          23 days after that, the first letter came in the mail. He didn't know what it was at first, no return address written. Although it had taken him longer than he'd like to admit, his mind placed the handwriting in the letter alongside the purple notes he had buried in a chest in his closet. Until the first letter, Minho had done all he could to figure out anything he could. He tried his work again, and went to Honey's house. It had been entirely unsettling to learn that Han and Honey were both gone, he had begun to get antsy about the situation then. He also worried about Sydney, hoping that wherever they had gone, they had brought her along. Minho had opened the letter so fast he thought he had ripped it, relieved to see every word fully intact before taking a deep breath and reading the words the love of his life felt the need to get out.

   "Hyung,

          I don't know if you are still at this address. I hope you are, because I have a lot to explain. I'm so sorry. I don't know when I can contact you any other way than this, and I can't be receiving mail here. Please understand. A lot has happened, and I'm very far away. I miss you every day, Minho. I swear I'm not doing this to hurt you. I've thought a lot about it - I'm in love with you. I know this is a shitty way to hear that, but I hope you'll forgive me. I wasn't ready to admit how much you meant to me before, but I can't avoid it now. It's all I think about. I don't know how often I can write to you, but assuming you get this please expect more letters. I love you.

   Han Jisung"

           Minho had cried, clutching the letter to his chest and trying his best to see if it smelled like Han at all. When it didn't, Minho had cried harder. He needed so badly to hold someone - to hold Han. He tried for a long time at night to clutch a pillow to him and pretend, always ending up crying into it when it didn't work. He had tried to force himself out of bed and be productive, unable to bring himself to do anything toward selling the house. He had decided after reading Han's letter that he would wait for him to come back if he had to. He began to only work on the house as the owner, no longer intending to sell it. He would go and collect Han's mail once a week, always wishing he had a key to just go and lay in Han's room. He considered breaking in just to surround himself with the familiar smell of Han, considered taking whatever clothes he could - assuming Han had left any - or maybe searching for his cologne to spray on his pillow. He hadn't, but every time he checked the mail he would think about it. He would think about as he ran his hands over the rainbow colored mailbox, giving it a sad smile as if it may be missing them, too.

          He made good on his promise to himself, buying a telescope for the attic. On nights when he was particularly missing Han, most nights, he would find himself looking out at the sky and hoping to find the pieces of Han that he himself hadn't found yet. He would look up at the stars, hoping with every fiber of his being that wherever Han was, he was able to look out at the stars at the same time. Something about that possibility made Minho happy to do it, even if the attic often made him feel suffocated by the way he had kept the fort they had built together this whole time. Every time he would leave the house, he would spare a moment to look at the hanging swing and remember seeing the photo in Han's room. He often had to look away from it, feeling his heart shatter with every second he deliberately thought about the boy.
Minho also found solace quickly in beginning a garden, planting roses to line the small walkway up to the porch steps. Along the edges of the porch, he planted more. The routine of having something to keep alive became meditative to him, even if he always thought about Han when watering them.