Thomas Murphey has never liked fire drills. They terrified him as a kid and even now, he still isn't exactly comfortable with them. The blaring alarm, amplified in the small hallways of the school, gives him a head ache and being pushed against people in a frenzy to get out the door is one of the most unappealing situations he can find himself in. So, when he's in about to leave the restroom and he suddenly hears the earsplitting sound of dreaded fire alarm, muffled through the wooden door he was about to open, he's reluctant to exit the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom.
It only took Thomas a moment to come to the conclusion that he has no real reason to join the chaotic crowd in the halls. Opting instead to wait the drill out in the safety of the restroom, the boy retreated a few paces and sat patiently against the wall, allowing himself to tune out the noise from the hall outside and think for a minute. As his mind drifted a memory came to the teenager, probably brought on by the unceasing sound of the alarm, still audible through the thick wooden door...
Thomas is much younger, sitting in at a desk with a chair that's just small enough he can touch the ground if he stretches. The teacher he's suppose to be listing to has been going on about a math problem for what feels like hours now, but the boy had long since stopped paying attention; all his focus centered instead on a doodle in the top right corner of his worksheet. His hand jerks suddenly,putting a dark line through his artwork, as a siren starts blaring loudly from the front of the room. He falls out of his chair in a panic and looks apprehensively around the classroom, fear swelling in his chest like a caged beast.
The teacher is moving around the room, trying gain control her startled students, yelling over the alarm in an effort to regain their focus. The added noise just increases Thomas's anxiety and he scoots hurriedly under his desk, bringing his knees up to his chest and placing his hands over his head in a meager attempt to be somewhere safe, away from the insufferable siren.
The teacher eventually reaches Thomas's desk and coaxes him from his crouched position, Thomas tying not burst into tears, reluctantly leaves his hiding spot to follow her. The boy walks as calmly as he can out of the classroom door and into the elementary hallway, but the crowd is only larger here. Though teachers are doing what they can to keep classes together, the hallway is a mess and Thomas feels panic take hold of him once more at the sight of it. He tries his best not to cry, he really,really , does but tears begin escape his eyes anyway, rolling down his cheeks as he tries, in vain, to wipe them away before anyone can see.
But someone does see, and it's through blurry vision that Thomas notices another boy approach him, maneuvering through the intimidating crowd with ease until he's directly in front of Thomas. The kid looks a little older than Thomas but not by much, his dark eyes glitter with confusion as he looks at him and his mouth turns downward in a frown.
"Why are you crying? It's just a fire drill." The boy asked quietly, seemingly genuinely confused by the other boy's reaction . Thomas stares at him a moment, sniffling as he tries to stop the flow of tears long enough to give a coherent response but finds himself unable to even think of one through the anxiety clouding his mind.
"I'm Minho." The older boy tries after a minute of waiting, coming to the realization he wasn't going to get an answer from the crying boy.
"Thomas." Thomas manages, glad he was able to at least return the simple introduction through his tears.
"Thomas. One of the Greenies right? That's what we call the youngest class. I was one last year." Minho smiles as he speaks, seemingly pleased that Thomas has actually responded this time . "Don't be scared of the fire drill, I'm older so I'll protect you." He continues, grinning as he reaches out and grabs the other boy's hand.
Thomas tries to push down his worry as he lets Minho as he guide them into the crowd, squeezing the other boys hand tightly in fear of getting lost as they slowly make their way outside. They break out of the mass of people faster then Thomas could have ever hoped and Minho doesn't let go of his hand until they've walked a safe distance from the building, the light pressure giving Thomas something to focus on as he forces his nervousness to subside.
Thomas smiled at the memory, Minho had become his closest friend since that day and had taken to seeking Thomas out when ever there was a fire drill, never really breaking the habit as they matured. But not this time. This time, Minho wasn't here and Thomas had absolutely no reason to try to maneuver the unruly crowd of students without him. So, he waited. And Waited. Waited... But nothing happened. The alarm kept up its unceasing alert for what felt like ages before Thomas finally rose and made his way to the door, confusion etched upon his face as he pushed open the wooden barrier.
At first, Thomas saw nothing out of the ordinary as he slowly crept through the doorway to stand in the hall, covering his ears against the obnoxious siren that blared from the alarms. His eyes traveled the expanse of the corridor without noticing the slightest hint of danger, leaving Thomas to assume his unease was misplaced. The teen was about to retreat to the bathroom once more when, all at once, it hit him.
Smoke, pooling from the end of the hallway and coming towards him like a solid, gray, wave, consuming everything in it's path. Thomas stared, frozen in fear as the cloud of fumes filed the hall, his mind struggling to process his situation through the panic threatening to override his senses. Only one clear thought presented itself as the boy stumbled back a few paces, fear exploding inside him and consuming his thoughts; The school was burning.
Thomas turned to run, heading the opposite direction of the smoke that was now beginning to cloud around him, making his eyes sting and breathing difficult. He sprinted towards the other end of the hall, where there should be steps to lead him to the lower level of the building, fear driving him like a mad man towards his hope of escape. Thomas reached his destination in a matter of seconds, panting as his chest tightened against the added strain of the smoke filled air, only to feel a new horror fill him at the sight. The stairwell was blocked from his vision by a thick mass of black smoke billowing from an unseen source, blocking him from going any further without risking walking directly towards the flames.
Thomas's heart sank as he turned and ran frantically in the other direction, hoping against hope the other stairs were in better condition, despite the original cloud of smoke emitting from that side of the hall. He hadn't made it very far however when the unbreathable air forced him to a walk, his chest constricting as he inhaled the polluted oxygen. Thomas stumbled and caught himself on the the wall, leaning against the cool metallic surface for some sense of stability as he pushed forward, not daring to stop and regain is bearings.
He couldn't see anything, his eyes watered despite the fact he had them squeezed shut and his body was racked with heavy coughs, making movement practically impossible. He sunk to the ground and tried to crawl towards the end of the hall, no longer having the will or energy to stand. He was going to die. He'd been stupid enough to ignore the fire alarm, and now, they'd have to pull his charred corpse from the rubble of a burned school. Great, really shucking great.
"Shuckface!" Suddenly, the familiar voice of his best friend cut through Thomas's morbid thoughts, slicing through them like a beam of light in the black of night, sending elation surging through him like electricity in his veins.
"Minho!" Thomas called back, but his voice came out no more than a whisper, barley audible and damaged by his excessive coughing. The boy received no response and tried again, but the Asian's name became nothing but a broken squeak as it passed Thomas's lips. Despair filled the teen as he strained his ears to pick up any kind of response, desperate to hear anything aside the steady din of blood pounding in his head but no noise reached him. Thomas's felt as though his heart had dropped to his stomach and was begging to accept that Minho's voice was no more than a figment of his imagination when he felt hands clasp his arms and was suddenly drug to a standing position.
Minho. There, in the middle of a burning building, just when Thomas thought he was done for, was Minho, wearing his signature smirk despite the dire situation they were in. The boy tried to think of something to say, some thanks, or question, anything; but no words could possibly describe what Thomas was feeling in that moment, staring at his friend with such utter disbelief and relief he doubted any word, in any language, could convey his emotions.
"I can't believe I actually found you, you slintheaded shank! What the hell Thomas? Just going to chill inside the school while it burns to the ground?" Minho yelled as though he was angry, but pulled the smaller boy into a tight hug the moment the words left his mouth, muttering insults under his breath in his own, truly unique, way of expressing concern. Thomas would usually respond with some witty comment but at the moment he merely groaned in acknowledgment and sagged exhaustedly into his friend's embrace, sure he would have already collapsed into a coughing heap in the ground if not for Minho's support. The unusual response must not have gone unnoticed by the older of the two because Minho instantly pulled away from the hug to look Thomas in the eye, his smirk suddenly gone, replaced with a worried frown.
"You okay there?" The older of the two asked, his voice full of concern as he looked the smaller boy over, checking for any visible sign of injury. Thomas nodded and tried to shoot the Asian a reassuring smile but he could only imagine how unconvincing it must have looked and the way Minho's frown deepened didn't do much to assure him otherwise. "We're going to get out of here. I'll protect you." Minho whispered, looking more serious than Thomas had ever seen him in all of the years they'd known each other, but he didn't have a chance to respond before Minho was moving, pulling Thomas's arm around his shoulders and wrapping his own arm around his friend's hips in one swift motion, bearing most of the scruffy haired teen's weight.
They surged forward as one, Thomas stumbling as he tried to keep pace with his friend and fight back the coughing fits threatening to overtake him, trying instead to focus on the stable presence beside him.
Their progress was slow and they'd only just reached the staircase Thomas had been running towards when Minho coughs, a heavy, loud thing that jolts Thomas from the state of semi-awareness he'd fallen into. He turned his head slightly to look at the older boy, only now coming to the realization that the smoke is just as dangerous to his friend as it is him. Minho shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have come to find him in the first place. He needed to run. Escape the flames and the smoke and just run. But Minho seems to sense his thoughts and shakes his head defiantly, "Absolutely not, Shuckface." The Asian asserted, moving forward again as he spoke and tightening his grip on his younger friend when taking the first step.
It was probably the most difficult thing Thomas had ever done, trying desperately to keep his balance as Minho guided them both haphazardly down the staircase, pausing every few moments to cough or adjust his hold on Thomas. The teen's chest felt as though it was made of lead and he didn't remember how exactly to see straight anymore; Minho was half-dragging, half-carrying the boy by the time they descend the last step and finally reached the first floor of the complex. Thomas was only dimly aware of Minho muttering phrases of encouragement as he pulled him through the final stretch towards the outdoors, winding through hallways Thomas could have sworn weren't there early that day as his mind struggled to remain alert, his vision already having gone completely out of focus.
He wasn't sure how long it took, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but finally he saw light. Bright and painful to his dulled vision, Thomas was left blinking in astonishment at the beams of light cutting through the smokey air. They'd reached the main doors. Minho surged forward eagerly at the sight of them, dragging Thomas's practically limp form with him as he pushed them open and stumbled into the blinding light, only mangling to move them a few steps away from the burning building before falling into a heap on the pavement.
They were both panting, coughing, soot stained, and exhausted but they were alive. Thomas tried to speak, but no more than a weak moan followed by a cough escaped him and he was forced to instead try to convey what he was feeling through actions. He clung tightly to Minho's sleeve, the older boy's arm still laying across his waist and pushed himself closer to his friend with what little energy he had left, pressing his forehead against the Asian teen's and looking into his eyes. He didn't think about what he was about to do, his mind still muffled in the smoke filled haze, he just does it; Thomas kissed him. It's small and quick, but a kiss all the same and Thomas pulled back instantly, worried Minho was going to punch him or something. The older boy's dark eyes widened but he didn't get a chance to respond for firefighters were on the two in minutes, separating him from the brown haired teen before he could even form a coherent thought.
Thomas wasn't aware of much of anything, really. He felt as though he was watching the events through a screen, rather than experiencing them in the moment and the firefighter's voices couldn't seem to penetrate his conscious. He was aware, however, of suddenly being pulled away from Minho's comforting presence, dragged upwards by one of the rescue team. Thomas tried in vain to keep a grip on the Asian's sleeve but his action goes unnoticed by the person supporting him and his hand falls the moment he's been lifted, leaving him without a source of reassurance or familiarity; lacking these things, it only takes a few moments for Thomas to slip into the blackness he'd desperately been fighting off.
Thomas woke to the steady sound of a heart-rate monitor, the soft beep of the machine drawing him slowly into wakefulness as he took in his surroundings and tried to recall the events taken place before he blacked out. He was laying on his back, a plastic oxygen mask fitted snugly over his face, mind vacant as he tried to sort out the details of his memories. Turning his head to survey the rest of the room, he quickly identified the place as a hospital, medical machinery was hooked up next to him and there was another bed a few feet from his own, it's sheets rumpled as though recently used.
Thomas's gaze moved slowly. He'd almost made a complete circle around the room when his eyes finally reached the spot directly beside his bed, jumping slightly in surprise at the unexpected sight before him; asleep in a chair, snoring softly, was Minho. The boy looked exhausted, his usually perfect hair was sticking up at odd angles and bandages could be seen warped tightly around him at different places, presumably covering burns marks. Thomas pushed himself into a sitting position with some difficulty, the sight of his friend bringing back clearer memories of the incident that had left them both in their current positions; the fire, the escape, the kiss. Thomas was still trying desperately to think some excuse to give the other boy when, as if triggered by Thomas's thoughts, Minho stired and blinked himself slowly into consciousness, taking only a moment to release Thomas had woken as well. Minho sprung forward, relief evident in his dark eyes, and pulled the groggy boy into a tight hug, grinning like a maniac as he did so, mumbling something about Thomas being a "slitheaded shank with a death wish." Thomas hugged back tentatively, trying not to be awkward as he attempted to push away thoughts of the last thing he done before being pulled away from his friend, hoping against hope the Minho didn't remember his actions. Apparently, Minho did remember though because he leaned further into the embrace, putting his mouth directly beside Thomas's ear,
"I would totally be kissing you right now if it wasn't for this stupid thing." He whispered, running a finger over the edge of Thomas's oxygen mask as he spoke.
Thomas Murphey has never liked fire drills, but when his boyfriend stands by his side, locking hands as though scared of losing him, he doesn't mind them so much.