Algorithm (Failed)

Chapter 2: Intel

   

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Warm golden sunbeams set on the window wall laden with blinds, worming through each gap so it could cast itself on any untouched surface. Lint and dust were afloat in a particular beam, Minho watched the particles wisp around for a few seconds before he brought his hand that rested on the couch cushion to the sliver of light. The warmth felt nice against the tepid temperature of the house, the warmth was gone in a flash, through his peripherals he could see the sun setting slowly. The sunbeams moving with it.

A documentary he put on a hour ago was now white noise, fading into the background. The male wondered if he watched every one but still╌ at this point his mind couldn't stand another one. All the films(and most things) revolved around intelligence and education. Minho didn't think he could store any more information in his consciousness. It was flooding with anything and everything, topics and facts he probably did not even need to know.

A sudden stream of water and shuffling were heard from the kitchen, the blonde guessed his mother was making tea. The water now pooling up inside the teai pot while she rummaged through cabinets in search of the tea or whatever else she needed. Having not much to do, he let his focus wander from room to room. The next being his father's study. Door shut tight, probably locked too, tucked in the corner almost giving the room a ominous aura.

Automatically thoughts of his provided task sprang up along with the tight feeling of doubtfulness and apprehension.  Maybe, possibly a message sent to his head by the pasky angel sat on his right shoulder. Odds were not in that little guys favor. Despite how afraid Minho was, he had to remind himself that he needed to take a breath through the nose, calm down and drop the dramatics. It was a risky job but the easiest off the long to-do list. He would be fine as long as he did everything correctly and took his time.

He tore his eyes away from the room and down at his wristwatch, lifting it so he could see the numbers clearly. It was about twenty minutes until his father and mother would leave for supplies. With luck on his side; they didn't need any more hands and decided just the two of them would go. He thanked every deity when his mother mentioned it earlier as he was beginning to panic internally. The first rank courses were just finishing up which meant his brother would arrive home any minute. Higher courses were dismissed an hour prior since Minho was a year older. He didn't learn a wink in his classes. As much as he wanted to care. He just didn't: not for the profession or the professor at the head of the classroom harping on about a profession that he had no interest in. His decision to choose Socialist, was a offhanded one, solely based on the fact that he was told he was a good adviser. So with that in mind those handful of months ago he selected it but thinking back at it now, it was sort of pointless.

Soft ding of the door unlocking and a click pulled Minho from his reverie. Then the door slid open, allowing the younger to step through the threshold, as he entered he let out a greeting. If he could hear a slight edge in his own, already raspy voice there was no doubt Minho heard it as he turned his head over the back of couch to look at his sibling. He was met with taut facial muscles,  a jaw set, making it appear even more sharp & slatted, slits of brown eyes clouded over with fatigue. His movements mechanical, less natural, more forced. They both could see the telltale signs that he was struggling to maintain his patience. He passed behind the wall of the kitchen(happy to be away from his brothers scrutinized eyes) and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. Minho turned away letting out a barely there huff of air and slumped lower in the couch. He was hopeful these turn of events wouldn't show up today but the blonde was still expectant of the situation and what was to happen next. Except he still wondered exasperatedly,  how many times were they going to do this.