Match Made in Hell (MinChan)

"(n.) s pleasant daydream or deep thought"

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Minho was quite, wrapped up in his blanket like a small bunny in his room, staring at a spot with distant eyes. It wasn't in his personality to think too much, hell his life was a sequence of events done on impulse. Yet, he couldn't quite stop his mind this time. His mind replayed the events of the night.

He had heard them, Chan's parents when they were talking to the principal. He had seen the visible shift in Chan's expressions. He looked like he was about to cry, completely breakdown and then the next second he was smiling and guiding those old hags to their seats. It made him question things, something that he wasn't used to.

At first Minho believed Chan took after his parents, they had the same sense of superiority, obnoxious demeanor, self absorbed, conceited pieces of shit. They looked at people like they were forced to, but then Minho had looked at Chan and his whole perspective changed. The way his breath shook, his eyes that no longer shined and a face that looked lost.

Minho was not ready for it. He was used to Chan being a highly know it all, and it suited him! The confidence, the snickers, and witty remarks. At that point when Minho saw him without any of those, he could hardly recognize him. That wasn't the Chan he was used to seeing. He looked rather lost, frightened and very lonely..

Some emotions that Minho was all too familiar with. His eight year old self was left with those emotions long enough for him to befriend them. That's when he knew that Chan wasn't a product of his parents' personality but rather a victim of it. 

Those thoughts were wrong for Minho, it felt like alarms. He hated Chan, to his guts. He could never see himself having a decent conversation with that guy let alone befriending him, but now that he had started to understand him, it was bad. To understand your enemy was to forgive them.

"Minho, if you want to eat, just come here and stop staring at it." Jisung's voice brought Minho's train to thoughts to a stop.

It was then he realized that he was actually looking at Jisung's bowl of instant noodles that he was making on a portable stove in the middle of the room. Minho didn't even realize it with all the fragrance in the room.

"Ah.. no." He replied clearing his throat and averting his eyes to the bed he saw above him.

"Suit yourself man, pretty sure you would be hungry but looks like you had Chan's brain to eat for a whole of four hours." Jisung smirked.

"Shut the fuck up." Minho replied as if on reflex. "I was asleep for the most of it."

"Yeah, I know." Jisung chuckled eyeing the neat blue coat that rested on Minho's study table.

Minho looked at the piece of cloth, looking and smelling completely different from Minho's other things that were kept in the same space. There were granola bar wrappers, a strange exercising tool, a few squeezy balls along with his own clothes that were rolled off and thrown from a distance at an ancient date that Minho doesn't remember. He hadn't bothered to pick them up.

Still, the dark blue coat stayed there, folded neatly, untouched by anything that was his own. Minho couldn't help it when his mind replayed the events that had happened just a few hours ago.

It wasn't a secret to Minho's friends and closed ones that he was terrified of dark and lightening. It was maybe a trauma that he developed after being left alone in the orphanage, it was raining for the whole week. Since then he had an underlying fear within him whenever it rained, like he was about to loose another piece of his heart.