𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗰𝘁 ＊ 𝟮𝗺𝗶𝗻

💌 • 1

The cold breeze of autumn blew into the small room as the lump under the white sheets squirmed around, trying to find shelter from the sunlight that entered the room every time the cotton curtains waved around the window. 

A low groan sounds from under before the male pulls them off his face, huffing in annoyance. It was another school day, another no-day for him. 

"Minho-ya!", Minho's mother calls out for him from downstairs, her loud voice irritating his ears. 

"It's 7 AM for fuck's sake..", he groans again as he sluggishly makes it out of bed and struts towards the bathroom. He doesn't forget to quickly snatch his towel from the chair by his desk. A frown appears on his face, the towel in his hand uncomfortably wet. He remembered that he had forgotten to dry before he went to sleep and left it on his chair instead, which had a massive wet spot on the seat. 

With a heavy sigh, he throws it back on the chair and opens the bathroom door, entering the bathroom like a zombie with his lazy and slow steps.

It was almost 8:30 PM by the time Minho finished getting ready. His mother had called him for the nth time that morning, calling him down to eat breakfast.

As he steps down the last step, his mother grabs his hand and ushers him towards the small round table by the kitchen, 2 seats surrounding it. Minho watches as her nimble hands place food on his plate. "Come on, come on", she says, handing the plate of food to him, "make sure you eat it all up".

On regular days, Minho would eat up all the delicious food on his plate his mother would give him for breakfast, but he was running late and he had two options: eat food and not be hungry for the first 3 blocks but be late for school, or skip breakfast and arrive not-so late to school.

He'd choose the latter obviously. He didn't want to enter the class room 30 minutes late and have half of the class stare at him as he finds his seat and gets his materials out. He's used to it though, as waking up late and arriving to school late seems to be recurring these past few weeks.

Even though, he still doesn't want to be late, so he shakes his head and walks away from the table with a quiet 'thank you'.

His mother gives a shake of her own head at her son's actions. She gives a silent look of disapproval as Minho hurriedly puts his shoes on, not sparing her a glance as he carelessly throws his books into his "too small of a bag for a uni student" as his mother would say every time she sees his bag.

She didn't this time though, and as much it seemed weird to Minho, he ignored it and continues to get himself ready.

Minho checks his phone, noticing that a lot of time had already passed, and so he hastily twists the front door knob, successfully opening it. As he's about to step outside, he feels a gentle hand makes it way onto his shoulder. He turns around and sees the worried look on his mother's face. 

"Honey I-" 

"Don't", Minho interrupts his mother. He sighs and finally takes his step outside the house. His mother simply turned away, leaving an empty doorway for Minho to look at. A lump in his throat formed as he blinked quickly, exhaling and inhaling deeply while he tried to get rid of the icky feeling in his stomach. It made him feel almost sick.

With another sigh, he begins walking on the cracked sidewalk, his eyes focused on the little flowers that began to shrivel up and die in the cracks. 

Just liked his love did.