꧁ With November came rain. It came, not pouring with a force that brought a certain kind of adrenaline to the bones, but drizzling, agonisingly slow. It was merciless, and it wanted Jeongin to know it. As excited as he was to finally experience the first snowfall of the season and have the star-like flakes melt on his fingertips, November seemed to want him to suffer, dragging out every day more and more, until they all blended in with each other so much that only his schedule was able to tell him that time actually passed.

That and Minho.

Missing Minho, to be exact.

Truth be told, Jeongin hadn't seen the older in about two weeks, most likely. Minho started working with Hyunjin, going around weddings and birthdays —he was surprisingly good at taking photos, Hyunjin had mentioned one day. He was to be trusted because Jeongin could swear he never saw photographs more beautiful than the ones Hyunjin took.

The Empath had run into Minho once or twice, but he had been too busy talking to one of the guys and Dahye, so Jeongin decided against joining them. Why would he? If Minho wanted to talk, he'd approach him himself, he always did. Besides, he just seemed so happy. He didn't want to ruin it.

Minho, in fact, never bothered finding out why Jeongin had refused to dance with him the night of the party. It surprised him, to say the least, especially after the puzzlement on the older's face when he walked out on him that still remained imprinted into his brain.

The following morning, Jeongin had woken up to his brain being crushed by the headache, muffled voices and purring of an orange cat that had most likely cuddled him all night. He had decided to keep his eyes shut and do what he'd always been taught not to do —eavesdrop.

And he'd regretted it right away when Felix stormed in and shouted at Minho for walking around the room butt naked. There had been a chuckle, nothing like Minho's high pitched laughter that could only belong to a maniacal murderer or a cartoon character, but a softer sound, something quiet.

Why was he quiet? Minho was never quiet.

"Don't yell. You'll wake him up," he had said and all of Jeongin's questions had been answered.

Felix's teasing had continued. "At least someone got some tonight."

Jeongin had forced himself to keep a straight face and not show the cringe in his expression by scrunching up his features. He had opened one eye, barely, for a moment, to see Minho roll his eyes and gesture towards an empty bed in the corner. Hyunjin's.

"Not us." Minho had shrugged.

A moment of silence. It had differed from their usual peace, one that had always been present in this particular room whenever Jeongin came by. There had been more to it this time.

"Hyunjin?" Now, Lix was also quiet. What was their deal? "Good for him, I guess."

Now that had weirded Jeongin out the most. Why would Felix be jealous? He'd liked Channie hyung anyway.

Being able to sense emotions was both a blessing and a curse. One side of it was the ability to almost taste the bitter jealousy that came with every glare Hyunjin shot in the direction of Felix or anyone that Felix was around, to have his heart rate speed up at the very thought about the warmth he felt around Minho or his hands tremble whenever Jisung seemed too fidgety. The other side was the feeling of being too intrusive. Knowing too much.

"Speaking of," Minho had started out, "I think I'm allowed to know why you brought him in here."

Right. Felix comforting him, looking for his wallet, then his phone ringing. Jeongin could remember nothing after that.

"I had an emergency... Channie hyung needed my help."

"With the whole transparency thing? I figured."

Wait, what?

"You know about that?" Felix had questioned.

"Of course I do. I was with him when it happened. Before you assume I did something to him, all I can do, and all I ever did was pass through the portal. No other abilities detected, sorry."

"I wasn't planning to blame you, chill." There had been a sound of bedsprings straining, meaning Felix had probably plopped down onto his own bed. "Besides, now it's all okay. He turned visible the moment I addressed him. It took me a moment or two to realise where he was because I couldn't see him, duh, but then it was fine."

"You couldn't?" Jeongin could hear the frown in Minho's voice. "You must have terrible eyesight. He was transparent, not invisible."

"He was definitely invisible, as in, like he wasn't even there."

"That's strange." Another pause. "I could see him. I could see through him, but he didn't disappear."

Chan was a Ghost. Now, Jeongin knew little to none about those, thanks to Seungmin's rather brief explanation about every ability he'd heard of. Ghosts could hear the dead. They could summon the ones they wanted to contact. Thanks to Chan's terrifying encounter with Minho, flying knives and all, he knew they also had telekinetic abilities of some sort.

He knew nothing about invisibility or transparency.

Somewhere along the way, Soonie had jumped off the bed and Jeongin's eyes had opened, and he had soon figured out two things. One —Felix was wearing Chan's clothes. The other —he'd forgotten Minho was wearing none.

"Shit," he'd cursed and turned away from the sight. He'd spotted a towel around the boy's waist, but nothing else.

As Felix scolded him for walking around naked when someone was there, Minho shuffled over to the bathroom, probably to get dressed.

"So," Felix had started out, wiggling his eyebrows as his hands latched onto what seemed to be Chan's vampire cape, "liked what you saw?"

Jeongin had nibbled at his bottom lip, casting his gaze onto the surprisingly clean floor instead of facing the boy.

He'd tried, he really had, to erase the sight from his memory, to remove it so it wouldn't tease him any longer, but he had failed miserably, for the images of the tan skin and the softly defined muscles just wouldn't leave his mind, no matter what, much like the faint traces on Minho's back, scars.

"You always dress like that?"

It had been brilliant, directing the question back to Felix, making his face flush with embarrassment as he clutched at Chan's t-shirt with those tiny hands of his. "It's a long story."

Before Jeongin could tell him he had all the time in the world to listen, the bathroom door had opened and Minho's outfit for the day had taken all of his attention.

Jeongin could never bring himself to pick between seeing Minho in those tight black jeans, ripped here and there, that showed off his muscular thighs, and simple sweatpants that made him look extremely cuddly. That day, he'd worn the latter, accompanied by a black hoodie. His faded orange hair had almost been completely dry, and looked so puffy and soft, like a little peach. Jeongin could feel himself smiling like a dumbass.

He would have commented, maybe. 'You look cute,' would have most likely worked, but a pile of clothes being thrown at him all of a sudden had kind of silenced him.

"Here you go," he'd heard Minho mumble. "Unless you wanna walk around dressed like Pink Panther, I suggest you put that on. Not sure if it fits, but you'll live long enough to reach the house. You're late for class anyways."

It had taken Jeongin an immense amount of self-control not to look up at the giggling Felix, expecting the same teasing he'd done moments before that. Instead, he focused on the clothing items he'd been given —sweatpants that he could already guess would be a bit loose around the waist, and a familiar looking lilac hoodie.

"That's your favourite one, hyung."

Jeongin couldn't help but jerk his head up to look at Felix, who'd clamped his hand over his mouth, guilty of saying too much. With the glare Minho had given him, he'd seemed to have a lot to feel guilty about.

Without any reply to that, Minho had shrugged. "It's cold outside. This one's the thickest."

That was the last time Jeongin saw him.

Even the group chat that Hyunjin had created two months ago, one that had a rather funny picture of Changbin as a background and a ridiculously long name no one could remember, remained dead for the time being. Felix sent a few memes here and there, Chan and Dahye replied to them, but that was it.

It seemed like the party silently divided everybody.

Hyunjin and Felix hadn't spoken since then. He could see them exchange glances from time to time, ones full of unsaid feelings they couldn't word yet. Chan was going through something similar, again, with Felix. Even Jisung and Chan seemed a bit off. Seungmin was there, in the middle of it all, quietly examining everybody with no comments added, while all of Changbin's attempts to reconnect them failed.

What made them all fall apart? That was the question he asked himself the most. But as he sat in his bedroom, slurping in some noodles with no intention to face any of them, the answer showed itself to him.

"Communication issues," he muttered to himself before stuffing his mouth with food. Frowning, he eyed the plate in front of him. "You should be a therapist, Yang. Seen enough of them to know the drill."

And now he was talking to himself. Great. Maybe he should go book another session after all.

With a heavy yet satisfied sigh, he placed the empty plate beside him, feeling content with his tummy finally full. Over the years, he'd learned to appreciate the feeling of not being hungry, of not having his stomach twist into knots, screaming for food. He did, however, dread finishing his meal, because that meant going back to studying.

But oh, what a shame! Right when he was about to happily dive into some parapsychology —who the hell still attended parapsychology, the teacher, Mr Byun, was lucky he was hot as fuck —a knock on his door made him throw his book back onto the shelf with immense disappointment.

"Go away, Min! I'm trying to study about hypnosis and shit."

The door opened. "Not sure which Min you're addressing, but both of us are completely able to throw you out the window."

Despite the heaviness that consumed his heart, Jeongin looked Minho in the eye. "Auntie Joo would make you pay for the glass."

She wouldn't. One thing Jeongin loved most about his aunt Joohyun was her bright nature and how she managed to be sweet and caring while also pulling off some incredibly cool stuff like minding her own business when Jeongin came home late or discussing cute idols she was so obsessed with.

(Jeongin wasn't keen on telling that last bit to Felix, though. He'd never leave her alone if he knew.)

Joo looked almost just like his mother. The two were a year and a half apart, with his mother being older, but they had such similar features, especially from afar. Jeongin couldn't really remember seeing his mum any other way except from a distance, that's how he knew. They both had really pretty eyes and soft skin, but Joo's face had more wrinkles, probably from smiling. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite remember seeing his mother smile either.

"Good to know."

Minho's smile was light, and as he walked through the room, Jeongin had to restrain himself from finding Seungmin and killing him for letting anyone in. He rarely appreciated unexpected company, especially this kind, but he let it go —Seungmin had more important matters to deal with; Jeongin didn't miss the booming voice of Mr Kim and the sound of his husband's attempts to calm him down when they marched through the door earlier that day.

He probably should have tried a more careful approach, but he couldn't help himself. "Why are you here?"

The look he received in return made him regret it, though. There was something about the softness in Minho's irises, something he rarely got to see, but appreciated nonetheless. Yet, it didn't fit him.

Jeongin was used to the way Minho looked at him. He was gentle, but his eyes never were. They were always searching, always wandering, as if the darkness in them desperately looked for a bit of light, just not to be lonely. Minho looked at everyone from a certain perspective, as if he was always expecting something, waiting for the next move.

This time, there was nothing like it. And as Minho picked at a string on his sleeve, lips pursed and jaw clenched, freshly coloured chestnut hair bouncing with every tilt of his head, he saw it. The pity. He needed nothing else to be sure.

Jeongin found himself unable to breathe. There was nothing stopping him, why couldn't he just inhale? His hand reached out to move the silver strands of hair out of his face, trembling. Pure fear crashed down on him like thunder as panic spread through every fibre of his being. It reminded him of a storm, one he could never learn to control and could only wait out. It would either shake him to his core, or drown him. Most importantly, it angered him.

Minho knew.

The skin of his knuckles turned white as he fisted the blanket beneath him, numbing pain spreading through his jaw as it remained clenched. Through gritted teeth, Jeongin repeated. "Why are you here?"

One would think Jeongin was overreacting —all Minho did was walk in and sink down into the huge armchair by the bed, eyeing the ridiculous pumpkin and cinnamon scented candles Felix had put up to 'keep the autumn spirit going'. But the definite look on his face changed everything.

He stood up. There was a moment that had Jeongin backing up to rest against the headboard as Minho sat down on the edge of his bed, slowly decreasing the distance between them.

"I watched TV with Jisung and Changbin the other day," he mumbled, making Jeongin frown. "It was the replay of the winter Olympics, you know, just the highlights of each year. I was pretty bored through bobsleigh and speed skiing, but what got my attention was actually figure skating."

Crap.

Looking up to meet his gaze, Jeongin spoke, voice quiet, "How'd you figure it out?"

A small smile tugged at Minho's lips, bringing the corners up just a bit. It wasn't his genuine smile, though. It was nothing but a shadow of the crinkling eyes, bunny teeth and scrunched up nose.

"The man who competed in 2006 in Turin, he really caught my eye. Yang Daeseong." Minho looked away for a moment, only to dig the phone out of his pocket and unlock it, swiping across the screen. "I was curious, so I dug up some info. Saw that he's retired. He's married now, and his wife is a dancer. They've got a son."

At this, he turned the screen so Jeongin could see what he wanted to show him. The lump in his throat only grew at the sight of the familiar faces. Minho chuckled quietly.

"You have your dad's eyes."

There it was. The key to Jeongin's secret. One more step, and Minho would let himself in, learn the truth Jeongin had been so desperate to conceal for a little longer.

But he didn't. He stopped there, staring at the pictures of Jeongin's parents and all their accomplishments listed below. That was when Jeongin realised, despite all his dread, that was all Minho found out. His knowledge reached no further than the discovery of his parents and their careers.

"You should have told me this is why you didn't wanna dance." Minho sighed. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have pushed you."

Jeongin leaned back against the headboard and relaxed, patting the space beside him. He didn't know what gave him the courage to do so, but Minho didn't seem to mind it, shuffling over to sit right beside him.

The distance between them had Jeongin's heart leaping out of his chest because Minho smelled really good and his lips looked really soft and his palm was really warm against Jeongin's leg, even through the fabric of his clothes. When he took a closer look, he could see the lights reflect in his gaze. Were those sparkles in his eyes? He wasn't sure, but they made the warm brown colour stand out even more, especially with his hair matching it.

"Wanna talk about them?"

He frowned.

Right, he forgot.

Where was he meant to start? At the beginning? To talk about his parents' two attempted divorces that the public knew nothing about, his time with his late grandpa in the country when his mum's tour started and his dad had to go live in Japan, all the persuasion the lady had put him through to get him to start attending dance classes?

What was he supposed to say? Mum always taught him not to say much to people he recently met, but then, his aunt had this saying about fish, not wearing matching socks and amongst it all, something about having a feeling some people could be trusted, even if you knew them for less than a day.

Minho had been around for two months now, and he was pretty sure that if he had wanted to murder them all, he would've done it by now.

So he told him everything. From the memories of his mum preparing for her show and covering bruises on her cheeks, all the sleepless nights he spent under his blanket, waiting for storm to pass so he'd drift off in an empty house, all the hours he spent watching her dance with her crew so he'd somehow get to do it one day.

"You got sick of it," Minho concluded. "Sick of them telling you what to do. You hated dance, but they forced you to do it because it was what they loved."

Not really.

"Yes."

Jeongin told him everything there was to know. He saw the sympathy in the older boy's eyes, the feeling he hated with a passion, as he made a promise never to force him into anything again. As he apologised endlessly, Jeongin felt the bitter guilt rim his lips and threaten to spill out, to spill what he couldn't say.

Because within the deepest fears, the most genuine moments of suffering in his life that he just shared, a lie snuck up. One little lie that he just knew he'd pay for, sooner or later, but couldn't shake.

Jeongin loved dance.

He loved everything about it. Nothing had been able to bring him such amount of pure, unfiltered happiness. Moving to the beat of the music, letting it take over his body and consume every thought, it was what he'd lived for, once upon a time.

As soon as Minho left, relieved they cleared things up and happy he didn't need to feel guilty for something he didn't do, Jeongin reached for his phone to check the article he'd been showed. Right below it, there was another one that would have been written way less dramatically and more to the point if it hadn't been relevant to the world of celebrities, one that Minho seemed to have missed. One that showed everything Jeongin didn't tell him. The one.

  'Tragedy in family Yang: terrible accident ends Jeongin's dancing career; parents devastated

       This Tuesday, a collision between a family car and a pickup truck almost took the life of Yang Jeongin (16), the son of Yang Daeseong, our retired Olympic champion and Bae Jeongmin, winner of most prestigious dance competitions all over the world. The boy found himself in the passenger seat when the truck drove straight into them, and suffered two broken ribs, a soft tissue injury and a severe leg fracture.

       According to his father, Jeongin will be pausing all his future activities until further notice. However, our resources from the hospital tell us he will not be attending the Seoul Dance Competition in March due to his bone fracture causing a permanent disability. The parents deny this, but the medical staff is certain his career is over.

      Yang was in the car with four more people, a woman, Lee Aesook (41) who drove the vehicle, her son (18) and two more boys, aged between 17 and 18. While the boys suffered multiple injuries, some witnesses claim to have seen the driver in a fatal state, however, she has been hospitalised due to a broken rib and will be making a full recovery. The driver of the pickup truck (52) was DOA.'

When Jeongin's phone buzzed with a message from Jisung telling everyone in the group chat to come meet him because it was important, he wiped away the tears that remembering the dreadful night had brought back. He tried his best to push the memories away, forget the sounds of sirens and the metallic smell of blood, and went out into the hallway to check up on Seungmin and ask him if he wanted to go together.

A/N:

i wrote so many versions of this chapter that it's actually scary. i hope i did the right thing by picking out this one

but oh my god i can't believe i finally revealed *the thing*. assjlfdkskfkdkd idk if your reactions are as strong as mine but i think this is the moment that starts clearing things up. this and what happens in the next chapter, it's probably crucial to the entire plot. jisung is cooking up something huh?

thoughts? i described the whole thing kind of vaguely on purpose because there's more that needs to be said, and you'll see quite soon, but i hope you put two and two together and figured it out, i don't doubt y'all <3

also there isn't much going on in this chapter except jeongin sitting in his room lmaoo
however i think the explanation and little hints i threw in for the upcoming chapters make up for it. this one is kinda hopeless and seems extremely pessimistic probably because of my overall mood these days (it's all okay now so dw)

i really hope you liked this one, and please if you have any questions about the plot, ask away! i will try and answer as long as my reply doesn't require spoilers, but helps clear up what already happened. also please vote and comment!

take care, please! things are getting worse in my country, the whole covid situation is a mess, but i hope y'all are staying safe. love ya <333