Chapter Text
"What did you just say?" Minho froze in place, his eyes locked on the blond figure before him.
In three long strides, he crossed the distance between them, the ground vanishing beneath his feet. He grasped the creature gently by the shoulders
"Did you just say my name? Say it again" Startled by the sudden outburst, the alien recoiled, fear flickering in his eyes.
His retreat forced Minho back two steps, as if the distance between them was meant to remain.
"Forgive me...I got carried away." Minho bowed his head slightly, a gesture of quiet remorse. The blond watched him, curious, not quite undestanding. Then, with a breath softer than a whisper, he spoke again.
"Mi...ho" Minho looked up, and a smile bloomed slowly across his lips.
"It's Minho!" He said it clearly, not to correct, but to teach gently shaping the sound of his name like something precious.
"Min..ho"
"Yes, that it" Minho whispered, eyes shining.
"Just like that." His voice carried warmth, low and tender, not deep enough to be heavy, but soft, like velvet brushed against the skin.
Minho couldn't truly catch its color, the words trembled out of him, fragile and raw, like the cry of a soul tasting air for the very first time.
They scraped lightly along his throat, stirring a strange, delicate tickle, and what followed was a rough, shapeless sound, not a word, not yet, but it held the weight of something trying to be born.
"It feels like when a child says 'mama' for the first time." Minho's laugh was quiet, colored with awe, as he reached toward the creature, his hand open, patient.
The blond glanced down at the gesture, then back up at him, eyes wide with uncertainty.
"Come here. Let me take care of that cut on your face." He didn't repeat himself.
There was no point, he knew the words would drift past him, unheard or misunderstood so he reached out instead, fingers brushing his, and led him wordlessly to the bathroom. He sat him gently on the edge of the bathtub, porcelain cold beneath him.
He poured disinfectant onto a cotton pad, then brushed aside his golden strands revealing the wound. The sting came quickly.
He flinched, breath caught in his throat, and slipped slightly on the smooth porcelain. Minho's hands found his shoulders in time, grounding him, his touch steady, calm.
"I know it hurts...but I'm almost done." His hands moved again softer now, slower, barely grazing the wound. The boy whimpered, eyes shining from the pain he wasn't used to.
"All done." He said at last, placing a small bandage on his cheek.
The alien touched the spot, then rose silently to follow the older boy out of the bathroom. But something made him turn drawn by the mirror, by the quiet weight of a reflection waiting. He stared at the figure staring back, unmoving.
Not recognizing it. Not feeling it as his own.
There was nothing familiar in the shape of that body, in the face framed by someone else's skin. He felt strange. Hollow in a way that language could not soothe.
"You okay?" Minho's voice came softly from the doorway, watching the boy's lost expression.
The blond said nothing, but the furrow of his brows, the tiny wrinkle that creased between them, spoke instead. A sadness, quiet and deep, bloomed just beneath his silence.
Minho felt helpless.
A soft sigh escaped him, but he offered the blonde a gentle smile, one that tried to hold warmth, to offer safety where words would fail.
With delicate fingers, he took him by the wrist and led him quietly to his room. He guided him onto the bed, then turned on the television.
The screen flickered to life, casting light across their faces like a soft aurora. He started up the game console, the familiar hum filling the room, and took the controller in his hands.
"Have you ever played this one?" He asked, though he already knew there would be no answer.
He turned to look at him at the boy sitting still beside him, eyes wide with wonder. There was something almost childlike in his awe, something untouched. He was mesmerized.
The screen danced with color and sound, vivid and alive in a way the world around him never seemed to be. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes never strayed focused so completely, so innocently.
Every time Minho's character was struck or thrown across the map, the blond flinched, reacting with a startled jolt as if the blow had landed on his own chest.
Minho noticed the look in his eyes and smiled to himself, pleased by the way the boy had become so absorbed.
He paused the game, knowing it would stir the alien beside him, who longed to savor just a little more of that strange, bright experience.
"Do you want to try?" Minho asked softly, offering him the joystick, his voice laced with quiet amusement.
The blond looked at him in confusion, eyes wide and uncomprehending.
"I'll show you how it's done." He said, his voice warm, as he pointed to the bright blue X button on the controller.
With a soft press, the character on the screen jumped and Minho mimicked the motion with a grin, hoping the silly gesture would help make the concept clearer.
The alien watched him, bemused. But then, something clicked. He connected the color to the action, pressing the button with tentative fingers. Another jump, another reaction. He flinched slightly, startled by the result, the mattress shifting beneath him.
"Good job!" Minho praised, his voice low with approval, his eyes sparkling.
"Now look, this one's for attacking." He pointed to the red circle on the controller, guiding his hands with a gentleness that felt more intimate than it should.
"If you press it multiple times, you can string together combos." He kept pressing the button, making the character move forward with quick, uncertain steps.
The alien blinked, then followed his example, clumsy strikes cutting through empty space.
"Yes, that's it! Minho said, his voice warm with pride.
"And with this, you can move wherever you want." He reached out slowly, taking the boy's hand with care, and guided his finger to the small joystick. He pressed out forward with him, their hands moving as one.
"Depending on how you tilt it, you can go left...or right." His fingers lingered just a moment longer before slipping away, allowing the other to take control.
"See that one?" Minho asked, pointing toward an enemy figure moving on the distance. "Go closer. Try hitting it."
The alien focused, posture tense, fingers uncertain. He weaved between trees, struggling to keep steady. But slowly, bit by bit, his movements smoothed. There was rhythm now. Precision.
"Yes, that's it, right there!" Minho cheered softly, placing a hand on his arm, his voice filled with excitement.
"Attack him!" He urged him on, fingers tightening gently around the fabric of his hoodie, grounding him, focusing him. The monster was weak and with just three strikes, it vanished into pixels and light.
"See? It wasn't that hard." Minho said with a smile, his voice soft and proud.
The blond looked at the screen, then down at the controller in his hands. Slowly, he turned to Minho, brows slightly furrowed in question.
"What is it?" He asked, following his gaze to where the boy's fingers now hovered above the green triangle button.
"Oh, that one." He said with a small grin, noticing the special attack bar fully charged and glowing.
"It's for a stronger attack." He nodded toward the button, inviting him to press it.
The alien did and immediatly jumped at the brilliant effects that burst onto the screen. Bright flashes, sharp sounds, energy set loose like magic.
" I see you're enjoying this." Minho observed, watching the shifting waves of emotion ripple across the boy's face. It was all so strange, so new like someone seeing a videogame for the first time.
He studied the controller, fascinated by every shape, every symbol. His gaze danced between screen and hands, completely immersed, as if he was discovering a hidden world no one had evere told him about.
Now he was playing with the pink square button.
There was something about the colors, their shape, their pattern that seemed to mesmerize him.
"Mmh, that one? It's used to pick things up." Minho kept explaining, as if the other could truly understand him.
He led him near a patch of soft pink flowers, then pointed to the button that matched their color. When the plant vanished from view, the alien stood up abruptly, visibly confused. Minho burst into laughter at the sight of his reaction, so pure, so unexpected.
"It's yours now. It's kind of like...picking a flower. When you're in a field and you pluck one from the earth..well, it's gone, right?" He paused, then sighed.
"Ah, what am I even saying? You can't understand me..." He shook his head, defeated, and gently motioned for the boy to sit back down on the bed.
Has he really never picked up a flower in his life...?
The thought lingered in Minho's mind as he turned to look at him again. He watched him quietly, the question echoing in the silence between them.
He looked so human, so ordinary and yet, everything about him spoke of something untouched, as if the world had never brushed against him until now. He sat there, still, curious, fragile in his wonder. Mimho's gaze softened.
How could someone who looked so much like him seem so far from everything familiar? He didn't expect an answer, but somehow, just sitting beside him, watching this strange, delicate innocence unfold was enough.
“Min…”
The blond one called out softly, pulling him back to reality. Minho blinked, suddenly aware that he had been staring, too long, too quietly, without noticing what he was even doing. It took him a moment longer to realize the other had spoken, had said part of his name.
“Sorry...what is it?” The alien turned his gaze to the television, pointing at the crimson words flashing on the screen urging a teleport to the nearest location, the whole team had just been wiped out.
“How did you zone out so badly you got yourself killed?” The older one scolded him, but there was warmth in his voice a kind of tender teasing, as he took the joystick from his hands.
They kept playing, and for a few hours, the quiet closeness between them was enough.
Minho showed him a few combos, watched as the other grew more confident, more at ease. He even let him pick the team, introducing each character one by one, learning his preferences through the tilt of his head, the curve of a smile.
Time passed without weight. The sun began its slow descent behind the mountains the perfect moment for a pause, like a shared snack.
“Wait here, I’m going to grab something from the fridge and I’ll be right back”
The alien didn’t answer, but he didn’t move from his spot. He turned toward the window, waiting.
As the darkness began to creep outside, a wave of anxiety washed over him. He felt a tingling sensation crawl up his arms and a sharp pain in his side.
The first symptoms were starting to surface, staying any longer on Earth would only cause him more harm. He stood up from the bed, placing the controller on top of it, and leaned toward the half-open window.
He had done this countless times before, but never from a place like this, never in this form. He just hoped he could transform back and make it to his spaceship.
“Hey, I brought you a dessert that- “ Minho dropped the puddingg from his hands and rushed to the now wide-open window.
Panic hit him like a truck at full speed, and for a brief moment, he feared the alien had jumped from that height, but there was no trace of him, neither outside nor inside the house.
“Mom, have you seen my friend come by here, by any chance?” He asked desperately, making the woman worry.
“No, why?”
“I can’t find him anymore…” He lowered his voice suddenly, imagining the consequences. Maybe it was better not to involve her.
“No, nothing, we were just playing a game!” He lied, forcing a smile.
“Ah, I see. I haven’t seen anyone, no” She smiled and went back to peeling the potatoes.
Minho climbed up to his room, closing the door behind him and stopped to look at the bed, where the other had been sitting just moments before.
The room seemed so much bigger without him, so empty. It felt like he had lived a dream, only to wake up in reality, making him vanish with the blink of an eye.
“How is it possible?" He asked himself, sinking into the bed with a clouded mind, lost in a sea of unanswered questions.
“Why did he run away…? What will he do out there, alone, through the night?” A thousand thoughts churned inside him, each one pulling him deeper into unease.
“But what am I thinking? It’s impossible he doesn’t have a home...surely, he’s gone back to where he belongs” He tried to settle his racing mind, but the boy’s strange presence lingered, an unsettling feeling he couldn’t shake.
Could someone really leave him to wander alone, in those conditions, without care?
That evening, Minho left his food untouched.
“Isn’t it good?” His mother’s voice, soft with concern.
“I thought it was your favorite.”
“Yeah, mom, sorry...I just...I’m not very hungry.” He gave her a faint smile.
“Your friend? I didn’t see him leave, I didn’t even say goodbye, how rude of me.”
“Ah, him…” Minho raised his gaze from the plate, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came, not at first.
“He had to leave quickly...he says goodbye and is sorry.” He lied, the words feeling foreign on his tongue, not knowing what else to say.
He couldn’t quite grasp why the thought of him unsettled him so why it made him turn away from his favourite meal, when he had only known him for such a brief moment.
“Next time, let him stay for dinner”
Minho nodded, the weight of her words sinking deep, and silently rose from the table, beginning to clear it. Perhaps he shouldn’t dwell on it so much, but the image of the boy, his sudden disappearance, clung him like a shadow he couldn’t escape.
That night, Minho couldn’t find rest.
He turned restlessly beneath the sheets, tossing and twisting, unable to find any peace in sleep. His gaze lingered on the ceiling, his thoughts far away, a tired sigh escaping his lips.
The next day, he would forget everything, returning to his daily routine as if nothing had ever happened. He would turn that brief moment of connection into a distant memory and move on with his life.
Or so he thought.
“What are you doing?” He shouted, his eyes falling on a group of boys surrounding someone in the universitycourtyard, pulling them by the hair.
If there was one thing Minho couldn’t bear, it was seeing someone being bullied.
He rushed toward them, intent on frightening them off, breaking up the scene before it went any further, but when he reached them, they didn’t even spare him a glance.
He then shot them a hostile look, before turning his attention to the poor victim; his heart stopped as he noticed the small green bandage on the boy’s cheek and then the unmistakable blonde hair.
He couldn’t believe it.
It was him, the boy from the day before.