Hello Stranger

Part 6- Different

1.4K words

"Hey...Minho?"

The boy did not hear you, shoes hitting the concrete with more force every second that passed. His jacket, discarded again near the potted vegetation and him, repeating the choreography in the middle of the roof. You, as always, were sitting on the bench closest to him, half doing schoolwork and half watching him. This was the lunch routine you had fallen into, and you had grown comfortable with it. But today, as the corner of your paper rolled itself between your fingers for the hundredth time, you could feel that something was different. And you didn't like the way Minho's usually cream skin lost its warm tone every time he went to replay the song.

"Yah!" Your attempt to gain his attention only earned a slight eyebrow raise in your direction, but he didn't cease his movements, ignoring your efforts along with the untouched bottle of water near his jacket. He restarts the song again, and the pit in your stomach only deepens.

The amount of energy he has finally runs thin, his legs not cooperating with his brain and tangling themselves, making him trip. He was lucky to catch himself, but the obvious sway in his steps afterwards launched you out of your bench, running to grab the water before running to his aid.

"YAH!" You yelled, grabbing a hold of his shoulders in an attempt to steady him. "Take a break! You haven't stopped dancing for half an hour and you haven't had any water-"
"I'm fine." The cold tone of his voice from his first encounter with you hits you like a brick, and a light scoff leaves your lips.
"Fine? You nearly passed out-"
"I don't need a break, y/n."
"No, what you need is some water," you shove the cold bottle into his chest and he clutches it, stumbling backwards lightly. "Why would you overwork yourself like this? It's just a hobby-"

"Why do you care?" His perfect lips formed an inquiry that was harmless at its core, but in this moment it hurt more than the thought of him collapsing.

You thought it was obvious.

"I care because we're friends? Because friends don't want to see each other get hurt?"

You waited for a reply from the panting boy, but he stayed silent, save for the ragged breaths leaving his mouth. Embarrassment painted itself red on your face, heart crackling slightly at the realization that your relationship was probably one-sided.

"Oh...sorry for misunderstanding."

You two were just strangers after all.

But strangers don't grab your hand the way Minho did, stopping you from leaving when you turned away from him.

"I'm sorry." His eyes stayed glued to the ground, not wanting to look into your hurt ones. "Y/n we...we are friends, I didn't mean it like that."

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?" Your eyes glanced down to your linked hands, and your stomach nervously tried to ignore the butterflies rising in your chest.

"Not everyone is like you y/n. Some people just pretend to care, and once you're not useful to them they just..."
"Drop you?" Minho paused, and then sighed.
"...yeah. They just leave."

You were quiet for a moment, letting his words and his actions line up in your mind.

"Do you remember when we first met?"
Minho chuckled, looking down at the faint scar on his arm.
"I think about the zinnias every day."
"...why were you so against me helping you?"

He drew in a deep breath, eyes narrowing at the thought that he could have rejected you back then. The weight of your hand suddenly registered in his brain and he awkwardly released it, wiping the clamminess into his pants. Finally, the butterflies calmed down.

"I think I didn't want to feel like I owed you something."
"You wouldn't owe me anything!"
"I didn't know that!" He laughed, finally meeting your gaze. "I know that now though."
It was strange that the butterflies decided to wake back up at that remark, but they flitted around shamelessly in your rib cage, spreading a nervous blush on your cheeks.

"Why do you dance?" You redirected the attention back onto him, hoping that he didn't notice the tint on your face.
"What's with all the questions?"
"As your friend, I am simply curious as to why you choose to spend lunchtime dancing instead of eating." He rolled his eyes at your haughty tone before folding his arms.

"Like you said, it's just a hobby."
"You're lying."
"What?"
"Your eyes- they always look to the left when you lie. You did the same thing when you said you were "fine" before nearly passing out."

Minho's jaw fell slack, the same pink tint barely becoming visible under his eyes before he scoffed.

"You really are a stalker aren't you?"
"Correction; I'm an observant person."
"Sounds like a stalker to me.
"You're avoiding my question~"

He drew in another deep breath before mumbling a small "fine" and grabbing your arm, pulling you with him as he walked towards the bench you had been sitting on.
You reluctantly sat down, playing with the ends of your hair before he ran a hand through his own strands and sighed.

"I dance because...I have to."
Your eyebrows instantly raised, but before you could pose a question he raised a hand towards you.
"No one is forcing me to. It's a choice I made on my own..."

He slowly fell silent, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth while you waited for him to continue. But when he didn't, you spoke up.

"Minho?"
"Hm?"
"I'm not going to tell anyone." You hoped that would be enough to get him to open up.

Minho allowed his body to relax into the bench before he continued.

"I can't...go to university."
"Why not?"
"Because my mom..." he hesitates again, "...my mom can't afford to pay for me to go."
"But Minho you're ridiculously smart; I'm sure you could get a scholarship-"
"No y/n...my mom can barely afford to afford to feed me and my little brother right now, she can't pay even a fraction of my tuition."

You sat, stunned, staring at his grim face in disbelief. So that's why he doesn't eat during lunchtime.
Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"...what about your dad?"
"My dad left my mom eight years ago." His face hardened at those words, and it was clear that he didn't necessarily want to talk about his father.
"And I don't really want pity, it's better without him anyways." You nodded slowly, understanding his family situation almost immediately. But again, confusion spread across your face.

"But...what does this have to do with dancing?"
"Oh, um-" the spark in his eyes returned, and he leaned forward to explain.
"So there's this company, JYP Entertainment, and they're looking for dance trainees and backup dancers. I've been waiting for months for them to post an audition date, and they finally did about three weeks ago."

"And that would help pay for college? If you became a trainee?" You pondered aloud, playing with the edge of your skirt.
"Well I mean yeah; but honestly...I just want to be able to provide for my mom so she doesn't have to worry anymore." His hand met the back of his neck shyly, and you could sense the sincerity in his words despite his indifferent expression.

"That's...really sweet of you Minho," you looked up at him, giving him a small smile, and his heart forgot how to function properly for a second.

How do you do that?

"Do what?" You asked, confused by his sudden remark. He blushed, not realizing he had said that out loud.
"N-Nothing, I was just wondering how you're so different from all of my past friends."
"Different how?" You allowed your heart to speed up, despite the chance of his answer being nothing like what you wanted it to be.

"Different in a weird way, of course." There it was, that mischievous grin that you had mistakenly let disappear for a couple of days. Your hand slapped his arm, earning that adorable giggle that made your heart sing.

"Don't worry," his laughing ceased, pausing and tilting his head to look at you. He stared at your face, letting his eyes linger over your skin for a little too long before standing up.

"I like different."