The door was left open a gap. San wasn't home. It was his chance.
Mingi pushed the door gently, just enough for him to squeeze past. He softened his footsteps even though no one would hear him, and padded towards San's desk.
It was late afternoon. The drawn curtains allowed sunlight to filter through, casting an orange film onto the wooden surface that cut off only at the corner farthest from the windows. Magazine boxes filled with an array of books and folders lined against the wall at the edge of the desk, the thick spines displaying words only medical students could understand.
Mingi looked past the pen holders overflowing with colored highlighters and the table lamp stuffed in the middle of all the stationery, directing his gaze towards the columns of drawers below.
He searched methodically from top to bottom. Some were empty, freeing small clouds of dust into the air as he pulled them open, while others were filled with unnamed binders he had to flip open before he was sure that there was nothing he needed inside.
The more he searched, the more clumsy he got, leaving some drawers slightly agape and slamming some shut with a bit too much force. Outside, the setting sun was angling away from the windows, its rays not quite reaching the desk anymore, letting the shadow from the far corner extend and replace the warm glow.
A sense of unsettling anticipation made Mingi's fingers tingle as he reached for the last drawer. The keyhole on it made him hold his breath as he tried the handle. Not knowing whether he wanted it to be locked or not, his heart pounded as he gave it a tug.
It slid open smoothly.
A single yellow folder sat inside the deep compartment. He recognized it immediately - San was holding it last time, before he went out for the car drive with Yunho. He should've listened to San that day, he thought. Would he have avoided the car crash if he did?
Feeling his heart clench with guilt, he shook his head and refocused on the thin file. It was too late for regrets.
Very slowly he lifted the cover, his hand tensing so much his arm ached where it was still recovering from the car crash. He saw a corner of the page inside. The information jumped out at him: a hospital logo, his name, a date from four years ago. The secret about him, everything San hid from him, would all be revealed. He spread the page open wider, scanned the page. His eyes went too fast, but his brain picked out "diagnosis" and "identity". Trying to slow down, he moved on the lines below-
"Mingi?"
The folder dropped to the floor soundlessly. Mingi spun around just in time to dodge San, who dropped down next to him and picked up the folder. San placed it back inside the drawer and slammed it shut.
"You aren't supposed to see that."
"Why not? You were going to show me that anyw-"
"No!" Panic edged San's voice. "Things are already too messy for that."
Mingi paid no attention to the spikes of iciness whenever a snowflake landed on his raw and exposed hands. The rushing water of the fountain, the deep rumbling of passing vehicles, and the urgent thumps of his shoes against the ground were all collectively an imperceptible drone in the background.
It took him a while to recover from the shock, to tear his gaze away from his gift that now laid in pieces next to his feet. But now he ran, arms and legs stinging from the abrupt contractions.
The only thing he saw was Yunho. Everything else was irrelevant, and they melted away into meaningless images around him.
He reached out and grabbed Yunho's sleeves, not wanting to hurt the other further than he already had. The moment he made contact, the moment Yunho stopped and turned around, his world came back to life. The colors and the sounds flooded into his peripheral vision as if a previously severed connection was restored.
Yunho's legs grew weak the moment he felt Mingi's hand on him. There was no anger left in him, just unbearable pain.
"Wait." It was a pathetic word, but it was the only thing Mingi came up with.
"No, just stop." Yunho wiped his tears messily, braced himself, and looked up. His eyes stilled on Mingi's blue hair, something he found so peculiar the first time they met and had gotten used to overtime. Yet now, as he looked closely at how Mingi's brown pupils clashed with the vibrant strands, he realized the familiarity was gone, and it once again looked strange to him.
"If you talk now, I know I will keep going, pretending nothing is happening," Yunho shouted even though it was attracting stares, because that was the only way to keep his tears at bay. "Then you'll hurt me again, just like all those times before, and we'll argue like this again. It's a vicious cycle, and someone's got to break it."
The grip on Yunho's sleeve loosened. Mingi could barely feel his numb fingers, but he didn't put his hand back inside his pockets. "I want to fix it, not break it," he said quietly.
Yunho widened his eyes in disbelief. "But can you? Can you explain why you tried so hard to show me my true self, that the bad things people say about me are wrong, and then turn around and tell me that I'm just pretending to be nice so I can hurt you?"
He thought about the stray cats in the alley near his home. How he found San there. The assaults around his neighborhood. Jongho's friend. His car crash. Suddenly he couldn't stop the accusations.
"It was all you, wasn't it? I didn't believe it, but it was all you. You sped- you drove the car into the wrong lane on purpose, didn't you? But..." Yunho frowned, tasting something salty on his lips. His heart was aching, desperately trying to cling to the faint glimmer of hope as he remembered what the teacher - Mingi's colleague - told him.
He gets super moody at night...Rumors said that it has something to do with an incident from his past.
"You keep mentioning your father," he continued. "Did something happen to him? Does it all have something to do with your-"
"What are you talking about?" Mingi interrupted. "I don't remember what I said...but why would I crash the car on purpose?" He dragged a hand across his face, wishing he had found San's folder faster and read its contents, so he would have at least some answers for Yunho. For both of them.
Yunho forced the next words out of his mouth, the bitterness burning his tongue. "Look, I don't care anymore. I'm disappearing from your life so we can stop asking these questi-." He stopped abruptly when he saw a figure zooming past behind Mingi. "Jongho?"
Jongho halted and turned towards them. Yunho noticed that his eyes were sparkling with urgency and that his hand was clenching his phone tightly.
"What's happening?" Yunho asked, jogging up to his friend.
"Yeosang woke up," Jongho said hurriedly, shrugging his coat on properly. "I thought you were going home." That was when he noticed Mingi, still standing a distance away where Yunho had left him. "Why-"
"He was waiting here," Yunho explained, following Jongho's contemptuous gaze. "Are you going to the hospital? Can I come with you?"
Jongho didn't bother questioning when he saw the hardness in Yunho's eyes. "Of course."
Relief coursed through Yunho's veins. It took him all his willpower not to turn his neck to address Mingi, but as he ran to the road and got inside a cab with Jongho, he found himself feeling glad that he could escape the torturing conversation he was having.
At the hospital, they found Yeosang sitting on his bed, nursing a cup in his hands with a confused expression.
Yunho wondered if that was how he looked like when he was in the same situation weeks ago.
"Oh god...how are you feeling?" Jongho rushed to the bed, examining Yeosang's face. His blonde hair, now slightly greasy, twinkled under the lights. The bruises and cuts were gone, but his skin looked paler and shadows formed on his hollow cheeks.
Yeosang winced as he twisted his upper body to put the cup back onto a table. "Like my cousin's lego model I broke accidentally."
Despite the circumstances, Jongho let out a small chuckle. "Oh, by the way, this is my friend at work, Yunho. We're all the same age."
"Yunho?" Yeosang looked up at Yunho with his almond-shaped eyes. They were glazed over as if he hadn't quite woken up yet, but there was also a spark of remembrance in the ebony pupils.
"Do you know him?" Jongho tilted his head.
"No...but the person who did this to me," Yeosang spread his arms a bit to indicate his wounded body. "Mentioned that name."
Unease twisted Yunho's stomach into knots. Chills traveled down his spine, even though the hospital was heated and his coat was still on.
The question burst out of Jongho's mouth in reflex. "You remembered what happened?"
"I think I dreamt about it," said Yeosang, as calmly as if he was just talking about the weather. "Did the police catch the culprit?"
Jongho shook his head firmly. "They pretended that they did, but people are still being assaulted. Do you remember his face?"
The nod of Yeosang's head made Yunho bite his lip. He wanted to leave the room, but his feet stayed glued onto the floor.
"Not really," said Yeosang, frowning as he tried to retrieve the evasive memory of his dream. "I'm pretty sure it was a man judging by voice and strength, and he's almost as tall as Yunho."
Yunho's stomach churned uncomfortably with newborn anxiety. A thought sneaked up at the back of his mind. A thought he didn't dare to think-
"Oh!" Yeosang exclaimed. "I saw blue hair."
That blow knocked the air out of the two people listening.
"Do you know why he attacked you?" Jongho pushed, jumping at the opportunity. "Why did he mention Yunho?"
"Jongho-"
"What?" Jongho turned around, unforeseen anger burning in his dilated pupils. "You wouldn't believe it, so I'm showing you the evidence." He faced Yeosang again and repeated the question.
"He kept saying I killed his father." Yeosang spoke as if Yunho wasn't even there. "That I was the same as Yunho."
His father. The words rang in Yunho's ears. There was a connection after all. A small puzzle piece to his myriad of questions. He cursed before he could stop himself and started towards the door.
"Where are you going?" The plastic chair wobbled as Jongho shot to his feet.
"To Mingi's home so I can ask his flatmate to tell me the truth," Yunho replied quickly, just so he could leave. He knew he couldn't run; Jongho was much faster than him.
"Are you mad?" Jongho stepped around the bed and went up to Yunho. "You just heard how dangerous he is!"
"If there is an explanation for everything Mingi did, I have to find it. I know he's not dangerous. He was good to me. It doesn't make sens-"
"You told me yourself!" Jongho glared at Yunho, frustrated at the obstinacy. "He said you're just pretending to be nice, that you're a fake. He hurt you, physically and emotionally. Why are you still defending him?"
Yunho wavered. He was fed up with Mingi, back then at the fountain. The hatred, however, retreated to uncover something he tried to hide, or rather, something else that was mixed up with the fierce emotion. When he realized what it was, the stake that pierced through his heart since the day he was discharged from the hospital finally went away.
"Didn't you tell me not to let other people's opinions change who I am? I'm not going to hurt him just because of what he said or did to me. I loved- love him. I'm not leaving him when he's lost and alone."
One of Jongho's feet scraped backward and he shifted, stunned. He blinked, silently swallowing the words he wanted to say but knew would do nothing to change Yunho's mind.
"Then...can you at least- at least let me go with you. Wait till tomorrow morning. It's Christmas and they will both probably be at home."
Yunho sighed, but when he spoke there was only weariness left in his voice. "Why? Weren't you always urging me to see the whole picture and not just the parts I want to see? I can't wait any longer. It's the only way I can do to help Mingi. To fix this."
Jongho took Yunho's hand gently and looked down at his feet. "Please. You just recovered. I don't want anything else to happen to you."
The realization that he wasn't the only one hurting made Yunho give up on protesting further. He delayed this long enough. One more night wouldn't hurt.