"Maybe we need to go make it up with the others, Min." I suggested when we hung out in the basement the fourth day in a row.
"If anyone has to make it up first, it's them." Minho sternly said. "Now what's in here?"
My eyes followed him walking over to the room with the wired chair, then they widened. I jumped off my seat and almost pushed Minho on the ground. "No! Don't go in there."
Stunned he stared at me. "What's in there?"
"Nothing for you to worry about." I told him quickly. Janson had threatened things if anyone found out about it, and I was ashamed I even got tortured in the first place.
"Alright then." He sighed and wandered around a bit.
"It's quite boring without the others, though." I mumbled.
"Excuse you? Are you saying I'm boring?" Minho threw his hands in the air.
I laughed. "No. But we haven't been doing anything else than boxing or shooting. It's not fun anymore."
"Yeah, but still... shuck Alby and Newt!"
"No, thanks." I blurted out. Minho stared at me, eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Ah, come on! Tell me I don't have to explain the birds and the bees."
"No!" Minho interrupted super quick. "I know about that. Ew, ew. Don't explain it. I don't want to go through horror again."
I giggled and sat down against the wall again. "Do you have any other hobbies besides boxing?"
"Running, but I haven't done it in a long time, except for in the hallways."
"Wanna do that again? In the hallways?"
"Of course!" Minho jumped up and grabbed my hand. I laughed, getting into the elevator with him. "Mission is, making Alby and Newt jealous so they get desperate to be friends with us again. We're a lot more fun anyway."
"Agreed." I nodded. "Come on!"
Minho screamed some curse words at doctors. I giggled, pushing any objects in our way on the ground. Soon multiple doctors and masked guys ran behind us, but we were so supple we could easily slip out of their grips, though we weren't as fast.
At some point, they got very close. Minho ran at my pace to help me, but once he noticed the doctors trying to grab us, he sped up. I yelled for him to wait, but he didn't and sprinted past everyone, disappearing behind a corner.
A cry left my mouth. I wasn't that good at running and not super fit with my legs, so slowed down, panting and gasping for air. Arms wrapped around my torso. I tried to kick them away from me, but they were strong.
A doctor talked in a walkie talkie as I screamed for anyone to help me, knowing what would happen if they didn't. But no one came, except for Janson.
He shook his head at me, disappointed, yet laughing. With hard words he commanded the doctors something and they started dragging me to the wired chair.
Then the torture came. It wasn't different from the sessions I had. It cut my skin like knives, burned my whole body and throat, and felt like a thousand of needles were stabbed into my skin.
Anger rose in me for Minho. He left me to be tortured. I knew I would take a million sessions to save him for getting one, but in this circumstance I was mad. We were supposed to make trouble together, not leave each other behind like that.
~
I lay in my bed at night, crying quietly at the still aching pain in my body. Some noises outside my door caught my attention, but I didn't bother to crawl out of my blanket, so kept crying.
"Lee?"
The nickname was enough for me to realize it was Minho. Footsteps sounded in my dark room while I wondered how he even managed to get in the room.
"I stole your hairpin." He explained before I even asked. I didn't look up, staying buried under the sheets with tears wetting my face. I was still angry.
"Lee." He put his weight on my bed; he sat down. I didn't reply, acting tough. "Lee." He repeated, poking his finger in my side. "LeeLee." He added, poking a few more times.
I got irritated, let out a grunt and pushed him away. It didn't stop him to sit down again.
"Lenora." He now changed to my full name, which he barely did. "Leeeeeee. Respond to me."
"You left me for dead." I grumbled emotionless.
"I don't see your corpse right now. You're alive."
I didn't answer, sick of his sarcasm for the first time in my life. I had always loved it.
"Are you crying?" Minho then wondered. I still didn't reply, hoping he would leave, though my heart secretly wanted to see what he would do. "Leeeeee." He said unnecessary long. "This is not funny. I'm bored."
No reply.
"Lenora Verlice!" He said angrily. "Answer me."
"I will not listen to you." I told him, stern, turning around under my blanket. "Leave me alone."
"I'm sorry." He apologized quickly, and not meaningful at all. More weight got dropped down on my bed. "Sleepover?"
I didn't tell him about what the torture I went through for him. I wanted to save that trauma for never.
"Fry is not here to make fun of us if we have a sleepover." Minho continued.
"Rat will kill me."
"I'll make sure he won't."
"By running away again?"
"I said I'm sorry!"
I got enough of him and decided to remain silent until he left, but the poking in my side went on for multiple minutes. Minho repeated my name over and over again, until I got so annoyed I pushed him off the bed.
With a bonk he hit the ground, followed by an "Ow! You're gonna regret that!"
Minho's hands found their way to my sides. He started tickling. I kicked with my feet, but soon couldn't help to let out a slight laugh at the tickling feeling. Only at the tickling feeling. Minho chuckled and kept going, so I had to gasp for air, laughing so hard.
"S-stop!" I gasped.
"Do you forgive me?"
I kicked him in the stomach with my knee. It wasn't too hard, but enough to make him stop tickling. Groaning, he pulled the sheets off me and gave me a not-too-hard slap on the cheek, probably joking.
Offended I slapped him back. Minho frowned and tried to push me off the bed, I tried the same to him.
Later, we both fell with sheets and everything attached to us. "Minho! You're sitting on my hair!" I pushed him away from me, hard.
He didn't let it slide, and started pulling my hair teasingly. I got more angry and pushed a hand in his face. Not long after that, we rolled over the floor, fighting, but not too rough. We would never hurt each other. That was an unspoken rule.
"I said I'm sorry!" Minho screamed dramatically when I touched his hair. He continued ruffling mine, creating knots.
"Say it with a meaning!" I yelled back. Neither of us cared if a nurse would hear us. It was just us two against everything, except then against each other... but yeah.
"I. Am. Sorry!" He repeated slower, but still loud.
"Mean it!" I gave him a push.
"I mean it! I swear I'm sorry!" Minho grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them besides me head, sitting down on my stomach so I had no chance of moving. "You'll have to forgive me otherwise I'll stay like this forever."
I didn't exactly get why I wanted him to be sorry so badly. Maybe because none of the doctors ever apologized to me. Or Janson. Or anyone.
I wanted someone to care and be sorry enough for me to believe it. And it sounded so ridiculous for an eight year old, yet it was true.
"Lee." He shook me out of my thoughts by turning serious and rolling off of me, pulling both of us in a sitting position. "I really am sorry."
He looked me right in the eye as he said it. Just then I noticed my quick thoughts from earlier made my eyes water. Our knees almost touched and our faces were close. Minho meant it. He said it with what to me sounded like a way of passion, and meaning.
"Can we make it up?" That question followed.
I just nodded. Words couldn't explain how I felt.
We made a pinky promise to never leave each other behind like that again. I, for some reason, remained silent for a while and just nodded or shook my head at anything Minho said. And he seemed to understand.
"They hurt you today, didn't they?" His voice lowered a lot at his millionth question.
I nodded poorly, one tear from the water that had been filling my eyes the whole time running down my cheek.
All Minho did the next minute was pull me in a hug. And it was enough. I cried quietly on his shoulder and he patted my back awkwardly, but not unwillingly.
"I don't want them to hurt you." Minho admitted with a more high-pitched voice now. He seemed to be close to crying, but I doubt it too. Minho wasn't the person to cry in front of me. Or in front of anyone. "And I don't like it when you cry. Pretty girls like you shouldn't cry."
My full attention was on now. "What'd you just say?"
"What?" He denied fast. Too fast.
"You said pretty girls like you."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did. I just heard it."
"Maybe I said petty."
"You said pretty."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"I give up!" I threw my head back. "But why shouldn't pretty girls cry according to you?"
The darkness in my room didn't hide the pink blush on Minho's small cheeks. "They don't deserve it. I think."
"But ugly girls do?"
I frowned at my own comment, knowing I didn't like it. I had never found a girl ugly. They didn't exist, in my opinion.
"I've never seen an ugly girl." Minho shrugged.
"And how many girls have you seen?"
"Uncountable."
"Oh." I dropped my shoulders. Deep down I had hoped Minho would admit he had only seen a few girls including me and found those very pretty, so I could feel special. There was no denying I wanted that.
"And one of them is super beautiful." He added. "She has amazingly long hair."
My hair came to my waist. Longer hair existed. Couldn't be me.
"And when I look at it..." He sighed and didn't finish his sentence, staring at the floor now.
"And when you look at it?"
Another sigh. "When I look at it I wish to run my hand through it. Smell it closely. Learn how to braid in it." He paused. "I sound ridiculous."
I shrugged, a slight hint of jealous feeding my chest. But since I was eight, I didn't recognize the feeling, so didn't bother it either. "Hm. Hair."
"So may I?"
My head snapped up. "Huh?"
He fidgeted with his fingers. "May I touch your hair?"
"My hair?"
"Are you going to answer?" A small chuckle.
"Is my hair the 'amazingly long hair'?" I wondered.
"Yep."
It surprised me, honestly. I didn't even like my hair. It was thick, messy, and always had knots.
"You just ruffled it so much I have even more knots now." I said, but I turned around to let him touch my hair anyways.
"Then I'll untie them."
And so he did. For at least twenty minutes Minho ran his fingers through my hair like a brush. Sometimes I gave him a slap when it hurt, but I kept smiling. It felt nice.
And then we fell asleep in my bed, our back turned to each other and multiple inches apart. Another unspoken rule.