the boy in the window {minsung} DISCONTINUED

four.

Minho woke up in the middle of the night to screaming. 

He had been having a nightmare about the crusty second-hand smoke guy who had beaten him up, dreaming about joining the football team only to have Chan force him to kiss the nasty ass man as they all laughed at him and hit him, over and over. It was one of those stupid nightmares, the ones you wake up and laugh at, but when Minho violently jolted out of his deep paralyzing sleep he sure as hell wasn't laughing. 

Because his window was partially open. And through it, the sound of hopeless crying and sharp, desperate yelling was filling up his bedroom. 

Minho sat up in bed, frowning as he cautiously looked out his window. He didn't see anything out of the usual- the moonlight was pouring down, turning the side of Jisung's house and the street into a lake of white, the snow adding a glint of magic to the whole thing. 

But Minho paused, not able to appreciate the pretty sight when he realized that this could literally be what kids at school had been saying all along. 

Psychos. Murderers. Gang members. 

Was the screaming coming from Jisung's house? 

Minho slowly climbed out of bed, shuffling over to his window and sliding it all the way open, cringing as a long high-pitched squeak filled the air from the friction of the movement. Once the window was open, he leaned out a bit, scanning the street in front of his house to see if there were any distressed people lazing about. 

No. The world was empty right now, but its lack of bustling life and movement was being filled by this gut-wrenching sound of hopeless despair, like a shadow eating away at white concrete, swallowing it whole until it was nothing but a puddle, a pool of black that chilled you if you lingered and frightened you if you looked. 

Minho glanced at Jisung's closed window, wondering if he should throw another shoe at it. 

No; it really sounded like something was legitimately wrong and all of Minho's concerns about his neighbors that had subconsciously taken root inside of him because of all the rumors at school started to blossom into a thorny weed inside his chest as an uneasy feeling filled the pit of his stomach. 

Then, slowly but surely, the screams slowed into sobs, then sniffles, then nothing. 

Silence. 

He wondered if Jisung was having a nightmare, like he had been having just a few minutes ago. Sometimes night terrors caused Minho to yell in his sleep too, so that seemed like a likely reason behind the heart-twisting noises that had been so obviously coming from the boy's bedroom. But Minho still felt unsure. 

After a few minutes, the yelling hadn't started up again, so Minho sighed and closed his window again, then turned and sunk back into bed, wrapping himself in his comforter though his eyes remained wide open. 

Suddenly, he was nervous for Jisung. If the rumors were true, if the couple living there really were the kind of people that students said they were, well, then... fuck. 

Minho frowned, letting his eyes fall closed as he tried to shut out all the weird confusing thoughts he was having. Normally, his mind was sure, concise, elaborate and mature. But right now- right now, he was nothing if not scrambled and also tired. Really tired. 

So he buried himself deeper in his blankets and let himself drift back into a light sleep, only hoping that everything stayed silent, peaceful and moon-bathed as he dozed off.