To love and to Hate

23: Minho's story

*This song has been in the playlist for this story since the beginning. The tone of it, the lyrics, the way the tone shifts... it's all perfect, and might give you a deeper look into understanding Minho.

*It had to be You- Tommee Profitt

A shallow sigh danced out of Mage Minho's chest as he leaned his head back against the wall, his legs dangling over the ledge that overlooked Agrook. The sun had set a little over an hour ago, and the last hints of daylight were fading into the deep blue of night. It had been awhile since he sat here, since he stared at the city and wondered what the hell he was doing. In fact, it'd been several months, but here he was again.

The small amount of control he had slipped through his fingers before his very eyes, and he wasn't sure how he was going to clean up the mess piling all around him. And it was strange, because he always knew that things would go to shit, that things would fall apart, and he'd always expected and accepted this outcome. But now that it was actually happening, he wasn't ready for it. All because of one person.

Mage Jisung.

The moment he came to Minho's mind, the water mage pushed out a light scoff and reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it despite not having smoked in years. If it wasn't for that fire mage, nothing would have changed, nothing about Minho would have changed. Without Jisung, Minho would be able to work with a clear mind, a clear conscience.

"Hey, things are getting quiet, are you ready to move?"

Minho lazily blew smoke into the night air, not bothering to glance back at San. "No, let the city rest for a night. Besides, all hell is going to break loose the moment Mage Jisung decides to remove his chains."

"And the main force?"

"We'll move in after the chaos begins, that way, we'll be able to pick our enemies off much easier."

"Carwell-"

"Is no longer our concern." Minho finally glanced up at the lightning mage leaning over the edge of the rooftop.

San leaned on his forearms. "What did you do with him?"

"I did what anyone would do to a backstabbing snake; I cut off its head." Minho took another drag from the cigarette.

"Where did you get smokes?"

A shrug. "The last guy I killed had them, I pocketed them for... safe keeping."

With nothing more than a sigh, San held his hand down toward Minho, who rolled his eyes and reluctantly handed over the smoke pack. "Minho, this really isn't how to handle things."

"Fuck off, San. This is all I have right now."

"Alright, do what you want. Just don't take off without a word."

"Go find your boyfriend, leave me alone for a minute."

Another sigh. "Just because you're in pain doesn't mean you need to be an asshat."

Minho didn't acknowledge the remark, turning his gaze back to the dark city as the other mage walked away. "I've always been in pain," he muttered, taking another long drag.

From the moment Minho's mother killed his father, he never trusted happiness to last more than a few moments.

 His father was a mage, who had the ability to control the elements. He would perform little shows for Minho as a little boy, take him on work trips and teach basic fighting techniques. One day he disappeared, only to return a month later, accusing Minho's mother of being a murderer. The next thing Minho knew, his father was laying in a pool of his own blood, and his mother packed her son away.