My name is Minho

She’d visited a large number of places in that single hour’s time - her wallet could be anywhere, fallen out on the ground or stolen by some random pickpocketer along her way - someone could have even picked up and wanted to return it to her, but had no way of knowing where she was. After all, she no longer lived at her normal address, and she’d removed most telling details of her life before she left her home. There was no way of knowing who she was, where she came from, or where she was heading towards. 

There was no way of her getting the wallet back.

A sense of hopelessness fell upon her, and she turned away from the young boy across from her, searching for the wallet; only to suddenly hear him pipe up from behind her. Wait… was he… volunteering to help her? Her? Someone he barely knew at all? For all he knew, she was simply trying to trick her and would soon steal his own wallet. CL turned back to him, respect shining in her brown eyes.

CL. It surely wasn’t a common name and Minho doubted it was given to her at birth. Did she have long foreign name and shortened it for  Or did it stand for something? Was it some kind of rappers’ name or was she simply another rebellious kid with an urge to ingnore as many of her parents decisions and rules as possible.

He looked at her again, better this time. She had a friendly face with small, sharp eyes. The complete opposite of his own, he realized. As he looked at her longer, he noticed her right eye squinted, not full on cross, but very subtle. Barely noticeable. It wasn’t something often considered beautiful, but somehow on her, it did. It made her face complete. Whole. Perfectly flawed.

‘My name is Minho.’ It was out before he knew it.

Fuck. He could feel the words hanging in the air above him. “Hi, my name is Chulsoo”, his preferred alias, but it was too late for that now. Minho it was. He’d have to trust her with that information whether he wanted or not. Fortunately, he had no reason to do otherwise. She was girl, his age or maybe even younger. A crying girl at that.

But not for much longer.

‘You know what? Let’s get some ice-cream first. I’ll pay.’ He flashed her another smiled, knowing it to be the fasted way to her trust.

He wanted to grab her wrist and drag her away like the men in his mother’s beloved drama’s, but decided against it last-minute, leaving his hand awkwardly hanging in the air beyond them.’

But, ignorant to the judgmental thoughts of the other, he nodded enthusiastically and clapped the man on the back as he headed over to inspect the box. “Well let’s get going then, eh?” Jonghyun had never been one to deconstruct another’s appearance negatively, so as he looked at the other, besides the height, he took in the short brown hair, strange eyes and solid shape that Minho seemed to have under his belt. “Between the two of us, it can’t take that long.”

Good thing, too –he was actually pretty hungry, because he knew better than to eat before doing anything strenuous. A whine escaped his stomach, and he laughed a little in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry, I’ve been running around since I woke up. No time to eat.” Sadness filled his eyes for the briefest of moments, the haggard puppy dog look coming across strongly, before he bounced right back and asked, “So do you want to steer, or do you trust me to?” Mischief flitted about on his expression, everything about the man just seeming far too over-excitable about everything. He knew he really needed to differentiate between his two different selves, but as for right then, there still seemed to be an invisible line that melted both sides together, rather than to separate them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jonghyun with the responsibly –although  he could easily imagine the guy accidently send the both of them into to the bushes.  Ever since he was very young  he had been forced to make his own decisions and this had made him into a slight control freak. He not so much wanted to call the shots, he simply wanted to do things his own way. He preferred to work solo, which had made him quite the loner sometimes, but he liked it that way. When there’s no one you depend on, there is no one who can let you down.

He took his place behind the box and bowed down, ready to heave and looked up at his companion. The man seemed to have a relaxing atmosphere around him and his big smile was almost addicting. He almost let out a chuckle as a loud grumbling noise came from the latter’s stomach.

‘Maybe we can grab some lunch together?’ It was out before he even noticed it.

Normally he wasn’t the one for blurting things out, especially not around people he had only just met, but with Jonghyun it didn’t really seem matter to him. He would  like to hang around with him for a bit, so why not have lunch together?  So far he hadn’t made that many friends at the cirque and Jonghyun seemed to be the perfect person to hang out with, even though he was a little over-excited.  

That, and the expression he had pulled right after hearing the noise. It vanished as soon as it had come but the puppy dog eyes had been very clear to him. They were both cute and hilarious and Minho somehow felt like ruffling his hair, something the man probably wouldn’t so much enjoy.

‘Okay, let’s do this. On three.’  He didn’t wait for his partners approval and started counting.

No, I stopped stripping and there’s a difference between stripper and prostitute. He reminded himself before turning around to meet a taller man with a very warm smile and beautiful everything. 

No, stop! Don’t get caught by his-, oh he has a twinkle in his eyes when he smiles. There he goes, on his romantic and delusional trips down insanity avenue. 

"I’m Jimin, my friends used to call me Slim Jim, if I had any and this is just turning sadder by the minute cause I just gave myself a nickname and I’m rambling. Sorry, nice to meet you." Jimin shakes the other man’s hand. 

"What’s your name? Sorry, I forgot to ask." Jimin smiled some toothy awkward grin as he replied to the older male. 

"Oh, I like your outfit. Mine’s just sweats, and a tight wifebeater. Classy, I know." Again with his distraught look at the ground with a tilted head, so picky yet various with his facial expressions. As the older was about to speak, he heard the warning signs of the Circus starting to open and a few people started to linger about, while the performers changed into their uniforms and went to get ready. 

The weird thing was, that nothing of this could be gathered from his exterior. He wasn’t extremely skinny, covered in scars or bruises or anything  else that indicated any kind of abuse. He looked healthy, his muscles even quite developed for his age. Jailbait, Minho smirked at his own thought, that’s what he was probably considered to be.

Was his healthy appearance part of his ability? Maybe he had super strength. Or he might be a shapeshifter. Mind-reading seemed to be an option, as Jimin told Minho his name even before he had a chance to ask him any questions. He suppressed a laugh as Slim Jim started to shower him in a waterfall of information. He looked flustered, got caught up in his own words and seemed genuinely embarrassed by the whole situation. He looked so much like a normal teenager, that Minho started to doubt his own theory. Maybe wasn’t broken. Maybe he was just a boy that from around here, trying to bluff his way into a conversation with a freak.

The kid surprised him again when the topic of his rambles took an unsuspected turn. He had gotten compliments before, usually from girls on the front row, but never outside of his show, from a boy of all people. The dark suit looked good on him, he knew that,  but it was nothing special for a place like this.

Then he suddenly stopped speaking and looked up at Minho, waiting for a response. Minho ran a hand trough his hair, a habit he had developed whenever he was in an slightly uncomfortable situation.

‘Erm, I’m Minho and my friends call me-‘  All the stupid nicknames people had given him throughout the years flickered before his eyes.

‘ Minho.’  He decided, not wanting to resurrect any of them.

Meeting people was a little phrase that kept Jimin moving, and not really stopping to think, as he ventured around the circus. Jimin stopped to look at tents that had colorful names, both literally and physically. He looked around the people who were moving the circus equipment and also mentally locked in states of preparation for tonight. Many were either physically active or mentally preparing tonight, but for Jimin he was simply wandering around and looking for a way to interact with someone.  So with an ambitious mind, he stepped over to a group of older looking people and said “Hello", which in retrospect and actuality was terrible. As they left and rolled their eyes at the newbie, Jimin pouted and looked like a distraught kicked puppy with no tail and a toe missing. 

While keeping this position as a tall dark stranger, he could secretly glace at the circus members, standing all around him. The person that sparked his attention though, wasn’t a member, or at least he didn’t seem to be. It was a teenager, sixteen at most, nervously looking around, like lost child in a supermarket. His eyes were wide, making him look even younger.

Even though the circus performed every night, a certain thrill went through its members before every  performance, bringing a weirdly uncomfortable atmosphere to the circus grounds. Some people preferred solitude, while others yearned for company and picking out who to approach and who to leave alone was a skill to be learned in the first weeks of your stay. A skill this kid had clearly not mastered. Minho flinched as he saw how the boy walked up to a group of girls talking quietly among themselves, a clear no-go-area. As expected, rejection followed and he tailed off with a pout on his lips.

Minho believed himself to have few weaknesses, but if he’d have to name one, it would be pouting. The simple sticking out of a lower lip had more than once driven him to do all kinds of favors, usually resulting in him being either broke or tired. It was a weakness he desperately wanted to keep out of the public eye, knowing that many could, and would, use this knowledge for evil.

It was this weakness once again that drove Minho to leave his spot and walk towards the lost puppy he had been observing. When he was close enough, he heard the boy muttering to himself, breaking Minho’s heart just a little more as he reached out his hand to touch the boy’s shoulder.

Frantically turning her head all which ways, in every direction, CL leaned towards the floor, trying desperately to see through her tears and ignore the disgusting noise her sobbing was making. She couldn’t imagine what the public must be thinking - in all honesty, it didn’t matter to her. No steps she made seemed to gather her any closer to finding the wallet, and the steady pull of heavy pedestrian traffic made it virtually impossible to see anything that wasn’t right in front of her. She had only just stood up straight, trying to come up with ideas of what to do - stealing? giving up? dying? - when she felt a touch on her shoulder. She turned to face a boy, seemingly as old as she was, who then stutteringly asking her if she was okay.

“I’m fine,” is what CL should have said - should have brushed away the tears, given the strange boy a smile, and walked away, diverting her attention back to searching for the wallet that her life now relied upon. But it wasn’t what she did - instead, it took that one simple touch from the stranger for her to choke back even stronger tears, threatening to spill over. “I- I just lost my, um… my wallet,” she managed to choke out, calming her tears slightly. 

Give it back.

It was such a simple gesture. One simple movement that could solve this, make it all alright. Moving one hand was enough, but both stayed still. His arms were frozen against his body, his eyes still on the girl. Why? Why the fuck could he not give it back?

Was it his pride, him admitting to hurting someone weaker than himself, that froze his muscles? Was his conscience finally creeping up on him? Never before had Minho been ashamed of his actions. One man’s meat is another man’s poison, that’s how it worked. That was how life worked. On the street you did not feel guilt or pity or affection. You didn’t show your feelings because your feelings would kill you in an instant, stabbing you in the back and leaving you to die alone in the cold.

He had done things before, things he wasn’t proud of. Things that would make his mother frown in disappointment, had she been around to see it, but none of them had made him feel the way he did right now. Something in the girls face made it feel like they were, in some way, alike. Like they were connected.  She was a weaker form of himself and it was his job to protect her. And how could he protect her when he gave up all her trust in him at their first meeting? He couldn’t let that happen.

‘Shall I help search for it?’

In the meantime, he was content with helping others out, showing off his awesome muscles and all that, but you know, you can’t rub it in people’s faces. So he’d have to settle with “subtlety” doing it, because after all, he couldn’t control how he would look while lifting something heavy that most couldn’t. Really.

It was in this mindset that he found himself as he walked to go meet up with this Minho guy he had been told about. He, as per usual, was pretty curious about this guy’s power, and already bounced a little as he walked, wondering what it could possibly be. Likely not super strength or anything awesome like that, but you know, it could still be cool.

Minho let his eyes wander from Jonghyuns hand, to his arm.  Despite his “little” problem -he internally laughed at his own pun- he was quite muscular,that being an understatement. The tight shirt clearly outlined his broad chest, leaving little to the imagination.

He could already picture him doing pushups between the tents, shirt disgraced on the grass next to him, hair soaked in sweat. Every time a girl walked by, he’d wink, flashing his white teeth and leaving the previously mentioned female in giggles.

He could imagine this, because he knew these men. Buff, narrow-minded and oh so full of themselves. elf-proclaimed alfa-males who thought they owned the world.It were the men of big words, but tiny fists. The men that girls said they hated but always seem to fall back on. It were the men that used to walk out his mothers bedroom.

It was Jonghyuns face that confused him. The face he was looking at was not that of a macho-man or a lady killer, or even a sport-maniac. Despite his masculine features, a strong jawlinehis eyes seemed somewhat..soft. His smile seemed genuine, the corners of his mouth turned upwards not simply for the sake of social acceptance, but of pure joy. It was a terrifying but fascinating contrast.

The man’s eyes twinkled as they caught sight of the box. Had he had a tail, Minho thought, he would be wagging it for sure. He smiled, as if he were smiling at a toddler, instead of a full grown man, probably a few years older than himself.