"And so now I literally hate that dude! He really thinks he can go around holding people in his arms like its just something normal! Yes, I'm gay, but not for him! Never, never for him!" Minho scoffed, ranting to his mother.

"Minho, how many times do you need to tell me that you're gay? I support you, but you don't need to shove it into my face!" His mother spoke back in the same tone to Minho, as they would normally do.

Minho then continued on his rant. "He thinks he's so famous that he can hit on anyone without getting in trouble. He can even kidnap Hyunjin too!"

"Being the popular kid and being a bad boy are two different things Minho." His mother's face deadpanned. "A popular kid doesn't need to be a bad boy. A bad boy is famous for being a bad boy. In this case, Jeongin is a popular kid because his teacher is one of the loved teachers of the school." His mother lectured Minho, as if she knew everything about Jeongin.

"But explain when he had me in his arms! He's definitely trying to hit on me!"

His mother sighed. "If he didn't you'd be knocked out cold right now."

Minho didn't understand why, but he felt hatred for Jeongin. He used to be neutral about Jeongin and was actually grateful of Mrs Yang. But he didn't understand why now he felt anger.

As he grumbled, he walked out of the room, going into his own. He eyed the journal that laid on the desk.

He opened it, before flipping through the pages quite aggressively.

As he slowly read through the details of each dream, his mind ran through everything. Isn't it weird that he could remember every detail?

He could still somehow feel the grasp of the boy on his leg. He could feel the cold fingers on his face as he ate. He could also feel the rough wood of when he had attempted to hide from the black hooded figures.

And the one that stood out the most? The name of the boy in his dreams. Han Jisung.

He didn't know why, but the name kept on getting repeated over and over again his mind. Sometimes he attempted to say the name, but the name would never roll off his tongue smoothly.

Looking at the latest page that has been written in, he saw the name in big bold letters.

Now he was just overthinking, drowning himself in his thoughts. But nevertheless, he kept going.

He was confused of what was going on. Will he ever be able to sleep properly? Will he have any other dreams not focusing on the boy? The questions clouded his mind subconsciously, out of his will.

"Awh that's a shame." He muttered to himself, folding the edges of the diary out of his control. "I won't be able to write about a Cacjin."

But he asked more questions to himself. Who would someone rather? Their extremely annoying friend fucking the shit out of a person they really hate as a cactus? Or an extremely adorable guy who unfolds a whole entire new story chapter of his life?

Because one person was more adorable than the other, Minho just decided to stick with the second statement.

Finally deciding to slam the book shut a bit too aggressively, he stuffed the diary underneath the pile of clothes he had, as if he was trying to shove all the thoughts of his situation away.

And of course, that isn't possible. No one can contain all their thoughts in a diary and just chuck it out of the window.

He landed himself onto his bed, feeling the instant comfort that relieved his sore back. What could he possibly do for the remaining 10 minutes before it got to 11? He couldn't just sit there and try to fall asleep, or else his mind would cloud with unnecessary thoughts about Hyunjin or what his mother said was a 'popular kid, not a bad boy'.

Having said that, his mother had opened the door, attempting to not disturb whatever she thought Minho could be doing. Surprisingly, he was lying in his bed, pretty physically calmly.

She pulled a chair from Minho's desk up to beside his bed, before sitting their comfortably, as if it was her own. Minho's eyes rolled, as he lowered his head back into the pillow, sinking into it.

"Minho, do you get it now?" Her question puzzled Minho, as their last conversation was approximately 10 minutes ago.

A groan escaped his mouth, before he replied. "Get what? Please give me some context." He sighed as he pulled the blanket forward, leaving some space for him to snuggle into the bed.

"Please don't be mad at Jeongin, he's not a bad boy, he's just well known." Minho's predictions came true, as his mother started rambling on, as if Jeongin was her own child, and she wanted to protect him. "If he never caught you, you could've knocked your head onto something, and the damage could be worse."

"Mum..." He attempted to keep everything inside, as he could nearly feel as if his blood vessels were about to explode. "Jeongin's not just bad in that way. You have no idea, you don't know who he is. Why are you protecting him like he's your own son?"

His mother sighed, before continuing her lecture, which was supposedly 'teaching her son because she wanted to protect him', which could be true by then. Until a statement broke that assumption. "Whoever's my son's friend's friend shouldn't be treated like that, alright?"

Minho was about to burst by then. He abruptly sat up, attempting to not give his mother a glare. His hands scrunched up in anger, trying not to be too rude to his mother. His mouth quivered and his hands were pressed hard against the bed he was sitting on.

When he heard his mother's voice talking to him, Minho suddenly felt his eyes droop, his back went limp, and he suddenly felt himself dosing off when his mother was talking to him. He did want his mother to stop speaking to him anyways.