And then there was less than a week left before college.
Minho watched his feet as he followed the stone path to Bang Chan's front door, pulling his phone out to make doubly sure he was at the right place. The house was familiar and he was fairly certain he'd been to it at some point, probably to work on some group project, but he would absolutely hate to end up knocking on the wrong person's door.
After confirming the address, he knocked firmly on the dark, wooden door and waited amongst the colorful pumpkins adorning the porch. It was pretty early for pumpkins, but no one could stop Bang Chan from being festive. He was the one to wear a Santa hat to school for Christmas in July.
Chan was not the one to open the door.
Even with the door just being open a crack, noise poured out into warm September air eagerly, as though it were trying to escape. Laughter was playing like a background track as he found yet another familiar face he hadn't seen in more than a year.
One of his old underclassmen was tugging at the knob, but he wasn't looking at who he was letting in. His face was pointed up over his shoulder as he carried on a conversation with someone behind him, giving Minho a very clear view of his side profile. Minho almost felt like he was on hold, despite it only lasting about two, maybe three seconds. It was interesting.
And then, he ended the conversation with a laugh, and turned his attention to the door. With an excited eyebrow twitch and a mouth slightly open in pleasant surprise, Han Jisung greeted Minho. "Minho hyung!" Jisung threw his arms around Minho for a hey-it's-been-a-while-nice-to-see-you hug.
Minho saw it coming, but too late to stop it. He stood stiffly in Jisung's embrace; lips pressed firmly together, then set to trying to pry his arms off of him in the most polite way possible.
There were often times in Minho's life that incredibly strong emotions hit him all at once, and they buzzed around his mind almost unbearably. This was one of those times.
He remembered his sisters writing journals and hearing that that sort of thing was helpful to deal with emotions, but as he got older, his feelings only disgusted him more. They were too private; too weird; too unnatural to even be written down. He would have rather pretended they didn't exist than write them down, and thus acknowledge their existence, so he did.
And yet, all the feelings still remained, caged up in a hidden, forbidden corner of his mind where he kept everything he could never have written down, like a journal he never wrote.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ THE JOURNAL I NEVER WROTE
oh boy. arms are coming closer, closing around me like a cage- how do i escape before they touch me-
