You had a habit of taking off, running away, cutting contact with everyone like it was the most easiest thing you could do. Because it was, it was the easiest thing in your whole life that you could do, you could run away and forget about everything, everyone.

Minho hated it, he was one of the main people that got affected by this. He begged and pleaded for you to stay, to get help. He got you to promise you'd stop, that if you had that sudden urge, you'd go to him. Only once you abided by that promise, and that night, he held you close, keeping a firm grip on you, not wanting you to leave his side.

Minho came home one evening, time set back an hour, the mornings were shorter, nights were longer, and days grew colder as winter approached. His scarf was currently bunched up around his neck, nose, cheeks, and the tip of his ears flush from the cold atmosphere outside. When he walked inside, everything felt off, the lights were off, the house was cold, it was quiet. Too quiet.

You took off.

He searched every room, but you were no where to find. Panic filled his body, he grabbed his phone out, looking for a message, any sort of message from you. Nothing. His heartbeat jumped with panic, all his thoughts going to the worst scenarios possible. He had to make sure you were okay.

Where'd you go? Why did you leave..

He was scared, all he could do was wait now.