cold | junhao

四

"Come on, I'll take you home."

Wonwoo left a while ago, leaving Minghao sat as still as stone on the sofa, mulling over the quiet and strained encounter with the doctor with his eyes closed while Junhui lounges across from him.

His voice interrupts Minghao's scrambled thoughts, causing his head to whip up. "Huh?"

Jun pushes himself to his feet. "You said you had to get back home early, right? I'll drive you now."

"Oh," Minghao mutters, "Thanks."

The car ride is utterly silent, filled with awkward air that chokes Jun but doesn't really bother Minghao that much. He solemnly gives directions to his house, not caring when his huge ass manor House comes into view and he hears a small gasp from beside him. He mumbles another small thanks when getting out of the car, not waiting to hear Junhui's goodbye before striding towards the front door.

Behind him, Jun waits to see him go in - partly for Minghao's safety and also for an excuse to stare at the bedazzling house for a few moments longer. Eventually he tears his eyes a way and drives off, shaking his head to himself in disbelief.

Minghao's glad to be out of company. His feet carry him immediately towards the room where the four little animals should be, hurrying to turn on the light and make sure they're all okay. 

Thankfully, Shizi, Mei and Xing pounce to meet him, while Lulu hobbles over and nudges her head beneath the palm of Minghao's hand. 

He spends an hour with them, both playing and checking their health as an apology for leaving them alone. "I'm sorry," he says after some time. "I've got to go again." Lulu whines and stares at him. He gives them one last kiss on each of their heads before leaving the room again. Minghao tugs himself up the two flights of stairs to his room - still exhausted from last night - which occupies the entirety of the second floor.

This area is like a whole other world compared to downstairs. Whereas the ground and first floor of the house are mostly kept to the standards of his parents - besides a few of Minghao's own adjustments here and there - the loft is his haven. One wall is entirely covered in an impressive mural, painted by Minghao himself over the past few years, adding to it little by little every day until it amounted to a masterpiece. The rest of the space is filled with odd trinkets and mismatched pieces of furniture that are there for no other reason than Minghao likes them. There's a hanging basket chair, a set of industrial-looking shelves and his bed frame looks like it's strung together with belts. In the corner, there's a grand fireplace surrounded by a warm hearth.  

Dark wooden beams hang over his head, shooting along the ceiling and across the empty space. They're just low enough so Minghao can brush his finger-tips against them if he strains on his tiptoes, but with the help of a poof in the shape of an elephant he bought last year, Minghao can hook his arm around them and pull himself up. He sits atop of the beams, sliding himself along to reach a small shelf stashed along the high walls adorned with his favourite books, diaries and a small box. He brushes his hand over the top of it lightly but quickly draws it away. Sighing, Minghao slips off and lands in a heap on his bed, the duvet and pillows cushioning his fall like feathers.

If he could, Minghao would never leave the loft. 

How wonderful that would be, to live without a worry in the world, no need to eat, go out, see anyone, talk to anyone. He could live in his own little bubble forever. He has everything he needs here.

But it's not possible, and it's unlikely to ever be, so Minghao reluctantly shuffles over to the wrought iron railings protruding from his wall, showing off his collection of clothing. He digs to the back, and yanks out a plain and boring uniform he's always forced to wear. 

He checks the time and, seeing he's running late, hurries to pull the shirt and jumper over his head as well as tug the trousers on. He still has to catch the bus way into the city, and then walk another half a mile or so to reach his class.

Minghao studies photography at university - something that took a hell of a lot of convincing with his parents. They want him to become a businessman, make money through hard work and studies. Minghao doesn't want that, and eventually they saw it and let him move on. Now, Minghao just accepts the bribery in forms of bank transfers, without sending a peep back to them. You could say it's his way of paying them back for the years of subtle but sickening homophobia.

Lastly, Minghao swings his camera bag over his shoulder and tucks his phone into his pocket before running down the stairs into the lavish hotel-like part of the house. He makes sure to refill the animals' water bowls before he leaves, setting out on his walk to the bus-stop.

The rest of the commute is blurred by the music singing through Minghao's headphones, the noise cancelling effectively blocking him from the outside world at the flick of a switch.

As he walks the short distance from the bus stop to his class, a few other people wearing the same uniform catch up to him. They don't talk to him though. In fact, they hardly acknowledge Minghao - treating him like a ghost or someone who doesn't even exist. He follows the growing swarm through the tight corridors until after what feels like forever they collect outside a door, which soon opens and the students around him flood into the studio.

Minghao pauses at the door. In his oxford shirt and too-thin-to-do-anything jumper, he can already feel the bite of the air-con. For fucks sake. He rolls his eyes. The amount of times he's asked his professor to turn the air-con off if she wants him to join lessons is verging on uncountable, and yet she never does it. His parents even intervened last year (which shocked Minghao to say the least) but still she didn't listen. 

He takes a tentative step inside, and goose bumps rise on his arms. As expected, all of the other students sigh in relief when they're overwhelmed by the cooling temperatures, as it's hot and sunny and dry outside. Minghao lingers by the door, until eventually the professor spots him. 

"Are you joining us today, Myungho?"

He internally gags. Just hearing the name unwillingly given to him unsettles Minghao. As the teacher speaks, all of the other teenagers turn to stare. They watch him expectantly, with vacant expressions.

Already - before the class can even begin, Minghao's had enough. It's always the same shit. He can't even try and wrap up, because that violates the dress code and he'll be sent straight home anyway. Do it too often and he'll be expelled.

It's a shame, because Minghao actually wants to enjoy his course. He worked hard to do what he wants to do, but still it's being held back from him.

His shoulder's slump and with a last, dejected sigh, Minghao turns around and walks out.