Algorithm (Failed)

Chapter 2: Intel

"There's nothing. I'm right here" Minho replied, hoping he looked and sounded believable but from the look on the youngers face he knew the truth. He starred, analyzing for a long moment before he nodded, clicking his tongue.

"So be it. I'll handle it while your out," Changbin deadpanned before heading out the door & into the living room obviously disappointed.

Minho let out a heavy sigh and pressed his fingers to his temples. He knew he would be nursing a headache soon. He droned on with the files, drowning in his headache making everything that much worse. The familiar pitter patter of water hitting pavement dragged his attention to the window. His problems and the rain had something in common, he had no control over them. Pressing print the very last time. He waited till it was done and stacked them all together then slid the stack into a plastic folder. Minho passed through the living room, glancing at the male in the kitchen before he exited the house. He held the files close to his chest, walking further and further into the pelting rain, hurrying to get these to Chan.

       After |

It felt like an eternity to him since the rain had stopped pounding. Leaving him doused from head to toe, his clothing was like a grotesque second layer of skin, one that clung to his person uncomfortably. Droplets trailed from his hair, down his temples and the slope of his nose. Some catching in his eyelashes. His breathing was unsteady now. Minho wasn't sure if it was from all the walking or the chill raking his bones. He hadn't realized his stamina was this pathetic. He wondered if he looked pathetic too, trudging through the rain, clothes sloshing back and forth, as his thoughts tried to suffocate him. No camera would catch him, not while he still had the device in his pocket, keeping it there like Chan advised.

He brought his fingers into his wet hair and pushed the bangs back. He slowed his pace then stopped, attempting to catch his breath. He knew he should just keep moving to elevate his body temperature but his thoughts and breathing were too erratic. He needed to gain control before he went insane. All the stores and buildings we're soulless. All the windows fogged and littered with rain drops. His eyes fell onto the city's greenhouse a few meters away; undisturbed and at peace. The plant life and greenery most likely relishing in the musky air.

As Minho inhaled and exhaled, he could smell the rain lingering in the air. It smelled like a weird mix of the ocean and forest to him. He took in one last breath with his eyes closed and then opened them, willing his feet to move again. He rubbed at his arm up and down to create some sort of heat but it wasn't doing much. The neighbourhood he was looking for came into eyesight as the city and it's skyscrapers faded behind him. All the houses were identical and of the newest model. White in color of course, but he always thought it was a loud contrast against the almost black asphalt. Even though Minho had only been here a handful of times it was like muscle memory. His feet brought him closer and closer to his destination. Minho rounds a corner, spotting the very set of numbers he sought after.

Even though curfew was nearing, a few lights were still on in the home. One room belonging to a brownish red head sat at his desk, concentrated as he drew winding trees with loops and distorted roots breaking from the ground in black ink. He knew his annual art project was done but thinking reassuringly, if no one knew then it didn't matter. The only thing that was successful in breaking his concentration was the knuckles softly rapping against his window.

It took the boy a minute before he actually got up and approached the window. After meeting eyes with Minho, he saw how the wet shirt clung to his arms and chest. Dripping hair mussed and combed through, the divot of his lips sheen with water. He was soaked with rain and still managed to look handsome. Very tired too. He realized what was going on and his hands shook as he unlocked the window, confident the alarm wouldn't sound off, and slid it open. Now a foot away, he watched as the other climbed through. He let him close the window as he left to get a spare towel and dry clothes. With a towel and the warm pair of sleeping clothes in hand, Jisung passed them over to Minho. Who took them gratefully. The burn from their hands grazing made them long for contact even more.