꧁ Every swing of Minho's arm brought him pain. Every time his bruised knuckles hit the leather of the punching bag, the pain would shoot through his body with such force he couldn't keep his mouth shut, sharp grunts and sighs pushing their way out of his throat like needles. Teeth gritted so hard he hoped they wouldn't break, nostrils flared and lips parted, he just kept going, punching and punching, then punching some more.

"You just broke your arm yesterday, I don't think this is a good idea," Hyunjin's mumble came from Minho's right, while the older was occupied with trying to picture the faces of his two harassers instead of the punching bag. "You're healed, right, but still."

"I'm fine."

With a cry, muffled by his teeth capturing his bottom lip, Minho used his left arm to throw one stronger punch to the poor bag, causing it to hit the wall behind it. He bent down, nails digging into the bare skin right below the rim of his basketball shorts, above his knees.  

Blinking repeatedly to get rid of those strange black dots staining his vision, all he could see were two pairs of feet. Jisung and Hyunjin just stood there, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. One would think Minho had, not one, but two personal trainers, but that wasn't the case.

The two had actually met that morning in class, and realised Minho never showed up. A few calls and messages later, the boy had unwillingly given them the address of the gym he had vanished to, and they'd joined him in no time.

"Why are the two of you here again?" he muttered in between gasps of air. He craned his neck slightly, cringing when the bones cracked. "No need to stalk me. I can take care of myself."

Hyunjin laughed. "Right. Well, it's not every day your roommate comes in at 4 o'clock in the morning, all bloody and unconscious."

"I told you everything already," he whined. "What more do you want to know?"

His trip to the ruins of Dahye and Felix's old house with Jeongin had turned out to be a true disaster, to say the least. He had expected it to be that way, even when the two dickheads came to pick on them —probably part of the crowd that had decorated the damn Hyundai so nicely —but what had happened after could never match his expectations.

To say he had been afraid of Yang Jeongin would be too much. There was almost this tingle in the back of his mind, the very idea of its existence probably influenced by Seungmin and Chan's powers, and it told him that, simply, Jeongin would never hurt him. And he believed it.

All this time he'd spent around Jeongin, the younger boy would simply smile softly, mumble little comments of support or try to help the best he could. Minho would have never imagined him being capable of something such as causing people to shake in fear with only his mind. So Minho's fascination with it all simply came from the fact that such a soft, gentle person held so much power.

He didn't miss the way tears spilled down Jeongin's face when he healed Minho's broken arm. As the odd shifting and rearranging of bones forced Minho's eyes shut, the younger had endured his pain for him, with no complaints or significant signs, except for when he lost all the energy he'd had in him and stumbled right into Minho's arms in the middle of the empty street, only to wake him up hours later and help him out of Seungmin's car and into the dorms.

Just like the day they first met, when Jeongin took it upon himself to massage Minho's tensed shoulders, whispering soothing words into his ear, when he guessed Minho was tired without even Minho knowing, when he kissed the cut on his face better, quite literally... the boy had healed Minho so many times already. Who knew what state Minho had been in when he went through the portal —maybe he had been on the brink of death.

Jeongin was stronger than he'd ever know.

Did Minho deserve it? Jeongin had sacrificed his own well-being to help Minho, healing him over and over while enduring the pain all on his own —all for a guy rumoured to be a toxic boyfriend, a shitty friend and pretty much a psychopath.

The most innocent, most thoughtful person Minho had ever met had gone through so much pain, all for him. And he? What did he do? He rolled around the concrete like a coward.

"Nothing, we just..." Hyunjin trailed off. "You seem pissed, man. We just wanted to make sure you're not blaming yourself—"

"And who am I supposed to blame?" he interrupted harshly, causing Jisung to flinch. He noticed it and took a deep, slow breath to calm himself down. He didn't need to push the boy away even more. "Jeongin? Hell, no. The guys? I already fucking do. But I should have been more careful. I should have thought things out and maybe he wouldn't have to go through all that shit."

Hyunjin said nothing, only continued the staring contest they unknowingly started. Jaw slack and head tilted to the side, he gave Minho no reply before simply licking his lips and turning away, beginning to pace around. Jisung, on the other hand, propped himself up and sat on a huge pile of yoga mats placed against one of the walls, hummed quietly and finally spoke.

"You know, hyung, when those two brought you in last night, I was with Hyunjin. They seemed really worried." He pouted, big, soft eyes focusing anywhere but the older's face. "Just don't be so harsh, please... You saying this about yourself will only make them feel bad."

Minho silently walked towards the boy, resting his elbows against the top of the mat pile, arms inches away from touching Jisung's legs. Every little movement was slow, as he made sure the younger wouldn't flinch away from him. He didn't. He fiddled with his sleeves and swung his legs back and forth, hills hitting the mats occasionally, but didn't flinch away.

Minho suppressed a small smile of victory.

"Thank you," he mumbled to the boy, and turned his head, ignoring his own inability to express emotions without cringing. "Both of you. You're only trying to help, I get it. I just don't think it's fair. Ever since I woke up here I've been a burden to all of you."

"I'm always a burden to all of them," Hyunjin said with a snort. He walked over to the two and swung an arm over Minho's shoulders, ignoring the way the older tried to stab him with his eyes. "I use their clothes, make-up, skincare, everything."

Jisung laughed. "He does. Stole my shampoo once. He's been using Seungmin's for about a month now."

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

Minho snorted. "He didn't tell the psychic he's missing a bottle of shampoo? Right." He ignored Hyunjin's pout and continued what he'd started talking about. "For real, though, I just feel useless. It's as though me coming here has shaken up all of you so much and I just—"

"That's not the case."

He turned his head to the side to see Hyunjin's face a bit too close —damn this boy loved leaning in, huh? He backed off slightly, frowning at him. Rolling his eyes at the clueless Minho, Hyunjin continued.

"We appreciate you being here. We might... dislike the Minho we knew, but you're not him. Annoying? Yes. Scary? Yes." He ignored another death glare sent in his direction. "But you actually care about us. You don't manipulate us... hopefully. You're helping so much by just being here, some of us more than the others. If you feel useless, fine, just do something about it —get a job, adopt more cats, ask Dahye out, make a change, I don't freaking care! Just stop blaming yourself for shit. You're so much more than he ever was."

Minho only stood there, mouth sealed shut and feet planted on the ground. He found himself copying Jisung's actions by fumbling with his fingers.

"Wow, thanks, um... Didn't know you had it in you. All the sentiment—"

"Don't get used to it."

Jisung whined, "You never tell me stuff like that."

Hyunjin simply flicked his forehead. "And I never will."

Jisung proceeded to try and punch the taller, but only ended up almost falling off. With a roll of his eyes, Minho left the two to bicker, making his way to the locker room.

While hugging people was rather unknown to Minho, taking a shower felt like being hugged by water. It splashed all over him, steaming hot, asking no questions and giving no advices, just simply holding him there, in the moment. It needed no reasoning, no conditions, just provided him with warmth he lacked.

The pale blue tiles he was so determined to stare at were covered in small droplets, sliding down and disappearing into the crooks between each one. His gaze followed the silent race of two of them, as his thoughts drifted back to what Hyunjin and Jisung told him.

The Minho whom they all knew, the guy who died trying to save the girl he loved, he was another person. They looked the same, they shared a name, but they were different in so many ways. Too many.

That boy had had a father. He'd had a happy, complete family to get back to whenever he wanted. He'd had a girlfriend and so many friends he had chosen to neglect, to ruin. Minho was sure, if his doppelgänger had ever stepped into his world, he wouldn't have endured a day, with his girlfriend dead, and everyone he had ever manipulated completely free of his bullshit.

He could never be like him. He didn't want to and he wasn't. All he had to do was prove it. To Dahye, to Jisung, to Chan, to everyone who'd suffered because of him. To let them be at peace, knowing someone who'd dragged them through hell and back wasn't around anymore.

As Minho got dressed into a black hoodie and a pair of jeans in the empty locker room, his phone buzzed in his backpack.

From: Unknown Number
hey, just checking if you're feeling any better today. the offer still stands, my place tonight at 8 :)

Minho didn't need any confirmation, but the message was signed anyway. A simple 'Innie' was followed by a fox emoji that made him draw his eyebrows together. Why a fox emoji?

He replied to the message, telling the boy he'd definitely be there. He wasn't certain why the deal had even been made, but he guessed it had something to do with Jeongin taking the keys from him. If the boy gave a single won to remove the paint, he'd pay him back immediately. He didn't need to do any more crap to help him.

With a sigh, he sat down on the bench and rested his head back against the locker, the metal cold against his scalp. Shutting his eyes, he took in a deep breath.

Living with someone as loud as Hyunjin and Felix, he needed time for himself, time to be in silence and think things through, and moments like this were always perfect for that.

Seungmin was psychic. It came as one hell of a surprise at first, but as the information sank in, it started to make sense. Every time when the boy would surprise him by saying something and then brush it off as a 'wild guess' while they dated, when he knew the Dahye from Minho's world was dead, guessed he had hidden the pill in his hand when Jeongin needed it, when he knew Minho wouldn't manage to reach Chan, Changbin and Jisung when he tried calling them, when he didn't seem even a bit shaken up by Minho appearing in the first place. He knew so much more than any of them from the very beginning, examined them so carefully and guessed every single thing.

That was probably the least unexpected piece of news he'd received that day. Chan's powers had been a bigger shock, especially the way he sent a whole knife right at Minho with no warning. What he'd said about voices, though, it didn't sit right with Minho.

Was that the reason Chan didn't trust him? Did the voices tell him not to? Or were they the ones assuring him Minho meant no harm while Chan's own opinion on him remained negative? How did he live with all the voices in his head constantly? No wonder he trusted no one.

Felix's abilities were still a bit of a mystery. The boy had burned down their kitchen table in a blink of an eye, after successfully scorching the sauce when he tried to make it. What triggered it? Minho had seen him get pretty upset when he defended Chan, so maybe that was it.

Just the thought of that look in his eyes worried Minho. The mischievous sparkle of golden and copper flecks —they seemed unstable, like pure energy, electricity, something uncontrollable and straight-out wild.

The boy's powers were controlled by his emotions.

Did the others have these kinds of abilities as well? He knew Felix, Chan and Seungmin did, and he had found out about Jeongin soon afterwards, under unfortunate circumstances, but what about Dahye? Was she able to trigger her own powers the way her twin was? Did Changbin, Jisung or Hyunjin know how to put their own abilities to use? What about his teachers, his parents? Did they know anything about it?

What about Minho himself? He supposed that the fact that he had passed a portal to an alternate reality made him one hell of a gifted person. But did that occur thanks to him alone, or did the universe itself set it all up? Did crossing worlds make him a traveller?

Most importantly, could he return home just as easily as he'd come in the first place?

If the portal had opened only once, exactly a year after the fire occurred, it could mean he'd have to wait. A lot. A year without his best friends. A year with the girl he cared about and his friends' other selves, who didn't like him very much. A year with his mother and father.

Was it worth it? He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, going to the gallery. As smiley faces of his best friends flashed across the screen, he smiled. He'd always had these dreams and theories about another world existing out there. He'd hoped to live another life, a life in which he wasn't an orphan, he wasn't a nobody. But was it really worth it?

A photo of Minho, Chan and Jisung at Minho's birthday party, drunk off their asses.

A photo of Minho and Chan in high school.

A selfie he had taken with Changbin, with Jisung jumping out from behind them, his tongue stuck out.

A selfie he'd taken with Jisung on Halloween.

A picture Chan had taken of him and Jisung sleeping on the couch together, Dori on top of them.

Minho inhaled sharply through his mouth, only to taste salt on his tongue. He touched the skin under his eyes and it was soaked.

It wasn't worth it.

"Shit," he whispered and covered his face. "Always at a wrong fucking moment."

He missed Jisung so fucking much.

He missed his soft little cheek kisses and the way he let him hold his hand whenever he was nervous. He missed cuddling him and exchanging clother with him and enduring his dumb jokes and drunk storytelling. He missed everything from the gentlest gestures, over the deadliest fights, to the funniest moments. He missed his comfort person, his Jisung. The one who trusted him no matter what and knew him for who he truly was.

Without a second thought he grabbed his phone again and dialed the number, then pressed the device to his ear. He knew it was no use, that his Jisung would never pick up, that he didn't exist in the world he was stuck in, but he did it anyway, just in case.

He was prepared to hear the same female voice that had told him the numbers didn't exist the first time he called, weeks ago, but then...

"Hey, it's me—"

"Sungie, you're there? Oh my gosh—"

"It's Ji. I can't pick up the phone right now, so let's just assume I'm doing something brilliant, like skydiving, but I am terrified, so no, thank you. You can still leave a message after—"

Minho threw the phone into his backpack with so much force the poor bag slid across the bench.

Of course it was stupid voicemail. It was too good to be real anyway. He wasn't sure why it went to voicemail instead of the number not existing, like it had been before, but he ignored the thought temporarily, leaning against the lockers once again.

"Fuck." He squeezed his eyes shut as tears wouldn't stop pouring. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Why was he fucking crying?

If only he could hear his voice, see his face. If only he could hug him and let himself forget about all his problems, just for a minute.

"Dude, my back is fucking killing me!"

Jisung?

Gasping, Minho opened his eyes and lurched forward, falling off the bench and onto the cold tiled floor. "Shit."

Jisung only stared at him, blinking rapidly. "You alright?"

Disappointed, Minho nodded and sat back onto the bench, eyes trailing over the boy discreetly. Huge hoodie, long sleeves, fidgety hands. No bright smiles, overly loud comments and playful punches. Right.

Jisung sat down beside him, making sure to keep a certain distance. "Hyunjin went back to classes. Said his job here is done, whatever that's supposed to mean." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think he's just happy he got to you."

I wish I could get to you.

"He's trying." Minho nodded. "Appreciate it."

"You seem quite off. I mean, m-more off than usual. What's up?"

He sighed. "The fucking sky, I don't know. I just wish I had things under control. I just realised I will have to wait a whole year to get home and I don't know how to do that."

The boy's leg bounced up and down as he stayed quiet. The silence let the two hear faint voices outside the locker room, meaning that soon enough, their peace would be interrupted.

"Is it really that bad here?"

Minho turned his head to the side to look at Jisung, and Jisung copied the gesture. His big eyes were focused on the older entirely, as though analysing his every movement. He looked like a doe, scared to be hunted down, shaking and ready to bolt.

"It's not," Minho whispered and shook his head. "I have a family. I have you guys. It's just... It's different, okay? As good as seeing some people after so long feels, it's terrible, not being able to see some people I really miss."

"Like who?"

"You."

Dammit, Minho. You'll scare him off.

He winced at his own outburst and averted his gaze to the floor. He couldn't see Jisung's reaction.

"Oh."

He shook his head quickly. "Y-you don't have to feel bad, i just... In my world we are always so close and I'm just not used to you being scared of me yet." He sighed. "I miss my best friend."

A hand landed on his back so lightly he could swear it was a hallucination, a dream, and if he didn't turn around to see Jisung's slim fingers pressed against the material of his hoodie, he would be sure it was just that. A dream.

"I am not scared of you," Jisung mumbled, lips stuck out in a pout and eyes focused on his hand. "You're still a new person for me to get used to. Sure, the other dude c-caused some trauma, obviously, but that's none of your concern. You don't have to worry about that. I just need time."

"What did he do?" he blurted out, to stunned by the words to find a way to thank the boy. He was scared he might hug him, so he went on with the conversation to postpone the tragic event.

"Messed with my parents." Jisung's voice was rather calm. "Said some lies about me, got me... in trouble. He always seemed like a great kid, especially to adults. Teachers loved him, our parents loved him, his own mum and dad were completely oblivious to everything he did —he had them all under his little spell... He was a manipulator."

Minho only stared at the younger, mouth opening and closing, like one of a fish.

"I'm s—"

"You're not. Don't be. It's not you." Jisung smiled. After so long, he smiled. "If you stop apologising for shit you never did, they might stop blaming you."

Minho only smiled back. The grin hurt his cheeks, but he didn't care.

One step at a time.

Before he could reply, the door swung open and a rather muscular guy walked in, followed by a bunch of other guys. The noise started right away and Minho noticed Jisung slowly scooting closer to him. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on his shoulder, watching his reaction. When the boy didn't show any signs of discomfort, too busy avoiding the eyes of the alpha males occupying the locker room, Minho called out his name and suggested they got out of there.

The walk back to campus was silent. No unnecessary talking and useless comments, only the quiet, until Minho broke the silence at the very end of their small trip, at Jisung's door.

"Jeongin texted me. He used a fox emoji." He tilted his head. "Why is that?"

Jisung burst into bubbly laughter the moment the words escaped Minho's lips.

"He resembles one. If you look closely, his eyes are so damn small, but they're sharp and kinda wide. He just looks like a fox."

Minho smiled and nodded. "Oh, speaking of, you should ask him to give you a massage."

The boy snorted and grabbed the doorknob. "Why?"

"Just because, you know, he has healing abilities and is pretty damn good at massaging, and you mentioned your back hurts." Minho shrugged.

Jisung only blinked.

"I didn't."

"What?" Minho glared at him.

The younger boy simply opened his door with a shrug and an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I don't remember saying such a thing, hyung. See you later."

And he was gone.

A/N:

the only chapter i actually wrote when i was offline so i had to use my notes, therefore wattpad couldn't delete it lol... might download ao3 just to keep this thing up on another platform just in case

fillerish? kinda. but i like it this way. it reminds me of ex and the chapter after it, because it seems plain but has so many hints hehehe

soooo minsung huh?

i chose to make this chapter more about minho's bond with these two crackheads because i feel like jisung and he need to reconnect. their bond is too special to be thrown under the bus because of the lack of communication. and hyunjin...idk bro i just love him

anyways, i hope you liked this chapter. the next one will probably be minho at jeongin's and something more, but then i will need to speed things up a bit, do a time jump, etc... just letting y'all know

let me know how you liked this chapter, or if you have any theories about the phonecall and the weird ass ending