the boy in the window {minsung} DISCONTINUED

three.

Minho spent the next few days avoiding the more aggressive students at his school, tending to his bruised face, and talking to Jisung. 

They were always small conversations. The day after they had spoken for the first time, a small voice came again while Minho was doing homework. 

"Minho?" 

Minho had immediately jumped up, hurrying over to the window and waving at the boy who again was refusing to look right at him. 

"I'm here," he had called back, making Jisung smile a little. 

"How was your day?" Jisung had asked. 

Minho had answered that it was fine, and they had calmly discussed school for a while. Jisung had been curious about a lot of little, meaningless details about Minho's high school (which Minho had learned Jisung wasn't a student at; Jisung was home-schooled). 

Minho mentioned the cafeteria, Jisung asked wide-eyed about the food and the lunch ladies and the tables that supposedly folded out of the wall. 

Minho mentioned his classroom, Jisung got shyly excited and practically demanded that Minho describe in detail the sleek whiteboards, the desks lined up in rows, the decorations on the walls. 

He wanted to know the little things. 

He was curious, too. 

Minho had smiled and told Jisung whatever he wanted to know, until it had gotten dark and they had said goodbye. 

The next day had been the same. A small, anticipating voice, a smile that was never fully returned, and small stories exchanged. 

They didn't talk about anything of any real substance or meaning, which was beautiful to Minho. It was beautiful that he could feel this fulfilled discussing nothing but everyday moments with this boy he only saw through his bedroom window. 

It continued on like this for a few days, and throughout that entire time not a single second of eye contact was shared between the two. 

Minho found himself looking forward to the evenings, where he could look through the frame of opened glass on his wall, exposing him to the world outside and in turn exposing him to this curious, pretty boy. 

But for now, Minho had to get through the rest of his day because it was only about noon and he wasn't as close as he would've liked to escaping the hellhole that some called school. 

Someone tapped Minho on the shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up passively, expecting a classmate of his to be either asking him for a pencil or asking him for money, but instead he found the senior class president- Chan, was that his name?- staring down at him with a small smile. 

"Is this seat taken?" Chan asked, gesturing to the seat next to Minho, and Minho shook his head, turning back to his notebook that he had been doodling in as Chan lowered himself into the desk, pulling out his math book. 

"I'm Chan," he introduced himself as he started working on homework. 

Minho grunted, saying nothing. 

Chan didn't seem affected by Minho's silence. "And you're Minho," he continued, the smile still on his lips. "I remember when you transferred here a few months back. My younger sister went ballistic when she saw you for the first time. Now I swear you're all she talks about- wait, fuck, I shouldn't tell you that." He paused. "But it's true," he hurried to add in, then quickly shut himself up and turned his gaze to his homework. 

Minho chuckled, but still said nothing. Didn't want to get himself into trouble, especially not with a tall built guy like Chan. 

"You do any sports?" Chan asked, glancing at Minho again.