It’s around seven in the morning when Minho wakes up. The sky is a soft baby blue with a dusty pink at it’s ends, rushing away the last bits of night as the clouds start rolling in. The trees outside Minho’s apartment knock gently on his window, a blur of purple-green leaves lulling him from his deep slumber. Groggy and ridiculously tired, Minho drags himself out of his warm bed, stretching his long limbs for a minute or two as his eyes flutter, still laced with heavy sleep. 

There’s a certain gentleness to the early morning that Minho loves. Everything’s quiet, everything’s slow. Minho didn’t have the pressure to keep up with any pretenses of the sort, Minho could just be, and live and it’s liberating not having to be anything really.

The sound of the coffee machine beeping is the only other noise that accompanies the sound of birds twittering outside and the crisp, autumn wind.

And there was nothing really grandiose or exciting about this morning, it was a calming Tuesday morning, nothing really special. It was soft and for that Minho was thankful, he had class later today, and Minho really didn’t feel like showing up, but he knows Tae will be there, and they’ll probably go out to eat something later. 

Minho feels a small smile play on his lips, Tae will probably suggest burgers again because there’s an ice cream parlor a couple shops down. And Tae is absolutely in love with their strawberry milkshakes.

Sighing softly, Minho grabs his coffee, adding a teaspoon of sugar before swirling it around a bit and taking a sip. He checks the time on his kitchen clock and sighs a bit harder this time, letting his lungs contract just the slightest bit more. 

Two hours until class.

He stays still for a couple of moments, still enough he could feel the first rays of sunlight permeate through his window, he could feel fine amber crawling up his tan skin, warming him up from the tips of his fingers, all the way to his shoulders. 

With another determined sigh, Minho quickly grabs his worn, burnt sienna book bag, ping it to shove a couple folders inside. Walking lazily to his room, Minho grabs his shirt that's folded on his desk. And everything’s more or less routine at this point really.

Roughly and lazily Minho tugs on his shirt, and then a cream colored sweater. He debates for a minute if he should wear a scarf, but then decides against it.  

A few silent moments flutter by until Minho rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms high above his head, feeling all his muscles stretch and pull in the most satisfying of ways.

As he walks out of his apartment, he gets a text from Tae to pick up breakfast for the two of them, and Minho feels himself crack a small smile.

He walks into the autumn air feeling light and free, like there’s the entirety of the sun his chest, right where his heart should be. 

He feels almost golden, almost invincible. 

—

He meets Tae right outside of their lecture, carrying a bag of bagels in one hand, and hot tea in the other. The scent of petrichor is light in the air, making the world feel a little damp and heavy with rain. The clouds above are a dusty gray, rolling away the bright morning they had only seconds ago.

Upon seeing him, Tae immediately perks up, smiling as their gazes meet and tangle. Tae gives Minho a quick hug before eagerly grabbing the takeout.

Tae hugs exactly the way they laugh, loosely and playfully, something akin to the petals of flowers. Sometimes soft, sometimes vivid, always dazzling.

“Dude, I have no idea what I’d do without you.” Tae says as they gobble up half of their buttered bagel, smiling softly as they blink up to Minho with eyes that held traces of warm, jasmine streaks. Dark brown eyes that melt with the early sun, looking impossibly beautiful.

And Minho laughs, shoving Tae lightly with his shoulder before teasing, “You only like me because I always buy you food.”

Tae then gives him a different type of smile, it’s lively and mischievous and their eyes twinkle with a type of impish amusement as they nod in response, shoving Minho back before gulping down the rest of their chai tea.

They don’t stop talking until the lecture actually starts, and even then they nudge each other as their professor keeps on droning on about statistics, analysis, and all other things Minho doesn’t really quite understand.

After class, when the sky isn’t raining and the world is just a little bit brighter, Minho confesses that he really didn’t understand the lecture, much less the concept. Tae laughs then, painting yellow into the air as they promise to let Minho borrow their notes.

And Tae knows Minho’s a bit disappointed in himself, if anything Tae knows him like the back of their hand, knowing exactly when he needs assurance and when he needs space. And so for the rest of the afternoon Tae’s dragging Minho around the small shopping center near their university, walking into little shops and doing their best to distract Minho of the feeling of contempt that swirls in his lungs.

It’s when Tae brings Minho to his favorite cafe that Minho is hit with a dull wave of everything effervescent and soft. He knows Tae isn’t the biggest fan of the small little cafe, he knows they prefer that diner all the way down the street, because the neon lights supposedly remind them of the city that they grew up in.

But that doesn’t really matter now, because Tae’s sticking their tongue out at Minho for daydreaming, and Minho feels a bit better, a bit more like sunlight.

Soon the clouds let up, and Minho offers to treat Tae to a milkshake. Tae’s eyes light up and for the entire walk to the diner, Minho’s head is reeling in just how much he actually likes his best friend. 

It isn’t a big deal though, it isn’t something monumental or nerve-wracking. He supposes that he’s always loved Tae, that whatever is their relationship, he’s always enjoyed being around them. Their friendship is something special, almost too precious to him to endanger with any prospect of romance.

It was something almost calming, soft and slightly sweet. It wasn’t something wildly flirty or something that made his heart beat erratically to the point he thought he was going to combust. 

It wasn’t really infatuation. 

It was something deeper, something even more brilliant. It was like the feeling of coming home after a long day, the feel of the beginnings of a smile after he’s finished crying. It was something built on years of friendship and mutual understanding. And Minho wouldn’t trade the world for it. Much less for romance.

—

It was Friday night and Minho has to stop himself from laughing jubilantly into the chill of the soon approaching winter. Tae’s animatedly telling a story, waving their arms around excitedly, their short, dark brown hair bouncing as Tae chatters exuberantly. It makes Minho feel like spring’s incredibly near, just a few seconds away rather than months. Makes him feel like flowers are already starting to bud, and that the sky is streaked with lilac instead of gray.

Opening his apartment door almost languidly, Minho watches in pure amusement as Tae nearly runs into the kitchen, heating up some instant hot choco. Minho in turn, opens the closet in the living room to retrieve several blankets and pillows. He places them all throughout the floor, right in front of the television before inserting Spirited Away into his dvd player.

The sound of whirling fills the apartment whole as the microwave beeps. Minho settles himself down on a particularly fluffy pillow, it’s a faded pink and it reminds him of the few spare seconds before sunrise. Leaning against the couch, Minho selects the options for the movie, not looking up from the remote until he hears Tae’s soft footfalls.

Tae sits flush against Minho until both their thighs are pressed together and Tae’s almost elbowing him in the ribs. Their proximity does nothing to phase him, instead it rings with soft nostalgia, of a time where they were both much younger, much more different yet somehow the same. 

Tae passes Minho his own cup of hot chocolate, and Minho runs his hands through Tae’s hair in thanks.

The movie starts and Tae starts to relax a little bit, loosening their hold on the stripped mug, letting the tension from their shoulders drop slightly. By the middle of the movie, Tae’s curled into Minho’s side, almost laying on his lap. 

The chocolate Tae made is long gone by now, and Minho’s hands find themselves tangling themselves through Tae’s hair. It’s a habit he’s picked up over the years, knowing that it calms Tae down a bit, knowing that it reminds them of their mother.

Minho doesn’t quite know what happened, but he knows that whenever Tae gets excessively chatty, something’s wrong. He doesn’t push Tae to talk though, even when he gives Tae a concerned glance. Instead he opts for their favorite movie and hot chocolate as comfort, hoping that whatever happened earlier wasn’t so bad.

Between the soft colors of the night and Minho’s soft massages to their scalp, Tae’s eyes start to flutter a bit, struggling to stay completely awake. Minho chuckles knowingly, pausing the movie to poke Tae’s cheek.

“You’re gonna fall asleep on the floor, wake up.” Minho almost whispers, snickering softly when Tae groans.

“I’m staying the night.” Tae mumbles back, turning on the huge mound of pillows, pulling up a faded yellow blanket over their heads.

Tae pulls Minho closer, until Minho’s nose is grazing Tae’s neck, until his long hair skims Tae’s cheek. And Minho sighs, knowing that Tae doesn’t want to be left alone in their dorm, especially when their roommate, Jongin, is out for the weekend.

“Don’t you want to change out of your jeans?” Minho asks, mostly just to tease Tae. He knows how whiny and almost child-like Tae gets when they’re tired. Minho finds it to be both, ridiculously funny and incredibly captivating.

“No.” Tae deadpans, annoyance becoming apparent in their features when Minho tweaks their nose.

“Are you sure?” Minho presses, laughing lightly when Tae’s eyes sluggishly open.

Instead of saying something cheeky with a hint of something mouthy, Tae’s eyes widen just a little bit more, as if they just realized something. Tae’s eyes run across Minho’s face unabashedly, as if they had every right to. And Minho suddenly feels self-conscious, because there’s something in Tae’s stare that makes him feel squeamish, something in their warm eyes that make Minho feel a mix between coy and embarrassed.

Tae then maneuvers their bodies in a way that their legs end up tangling, and Minho’s arms somehow wind themselves around Tae’s waist. Tae’s feet are cold and they tickle Minho’s calves, but really Minho doesn’t mind, dully aware of the fact that if he were to move just a couple inches forward, he’d be able to completely kiss Tae and pass it off as an accident.

He won’t do it though, refusing to do anything without Tae’s complete consent. Instead, Minho marvels at their proximity, at how Tae softly exhales, at how stunning Tae’s hair looks when it’s colored with the glowing lights from the television. It’s comforting and oddly familiar, an echo of every time they’ve both needed strength. They have each other and for that Minho’s amazingly thankful.

Tae’s eyes gently close once more, their lips have a soft upwards tilt and they look utterly peaceful. The whole ambiance of the air twists with coziness and a soft quiet, making Minho tense up when he feels Tae’s chest rumble with a soft chuckle. It breaks the silence in the loveliest way possible.

“Aren’t you gonna go to sleep?” Tae says, eyes still closed with a few strands of hair jutting out at gravity-defying angles.

It is then when Minho wills himself to relax, forcing his breaths to even out, no matter how much the sun in his chest feels like it’ll swallow him whole. He tries to remember this isn’t his first time being so intimate with his best friend, this was probably the millionth time that they slept all cuddled together.

It wasn’t any less breathtaking though.

And with that thought, Minho succumbed himself to sleep.

— 

When the whole, “incident” happened, it was another regular morning. 

It was Thursday this time, and the day looked like it was dipped in honey, and everything was calm and warm and comforting.

After Minho drinks almost all his coffee, he leisurely walks into his room, tugging off his oversized sleeping shirt and reaches for his cropped turtle neck. And everything up to this point was fine and normal until a flash of black against his collarbones make him stop dead in his tracks. Carefully Minho walks right up to the mirror, his fingers lightly brush the delicate letters in an attempt to decipher it. It’s reflected and backwards, but he makes out a ‘Tae’ and he can feel his heart thump heavily against his rip cage, only to have dread settle in his chest when he doesn’t recognize the name.

“Who’s Taemin?” Minho wonders out loud, touching the tattoo gently with his index finger, trailing the soft curves of every letter.

It’s always been a thing really, the whole soulmate thing. It happens randomly, without any real precedent. One day there’s a jumble of letters across your skin, perfect and clean, like it was meant to be written. 

Not everyone pursues their soulmate though, other times people choose to be in platonic relationships with their soulmates. Minho’s been always slightly more romantic though, always just a little bit more hopeful.

He secretly always had hoped his tattoo would have the name of his best friend, and he can’t help feeling a wave of disappointment settle across his bones.

With a yawn Minho pulls on his clean turtle neck and then a beige colored coat. He ruffles his hair lightly and presses his cheeks to wake himself up a bit more. His hair is getting too long, he notes. It’s touching his shoulders and it’s getting progressively more wavy and curly with each day that passes.

He’s about to step out before realizing Tae left their notes on Minho’s coffee table. Grabbing Tae’s papers, and quickly tying his hair up in a ponytail, Minho sets out of his apartment. He leaves behind soft dreams and warm blankets for the chilling fall breeze.

—

It was raining lightly this morning, a slight drizzle that doesn’t make Minho entirely regret not bringing an umbrella. The sky is a bit darker and the green of the trees seem a little bluish. It somehow acts as a slight reassurance. 

Because even the sky can’t be bright and golden forever. And so Minho takes it as a soft consolation. 

Even with the rain he reaches his class a bit ahead of time, walking leisurely to his usual seat and setting Tae’s stuff on the desk next to him. He lets out another yawn because he’s still a little bit sleepy, and hunches over his desk, laying his head on his arms as he waits for the lecture to start.

There’s something still swirling in his chest, disappointment and defiance crawling their way up his spine. But Minho isn’t one for lashing out, he usually decides to sleep it off until it didn’t matter anymore. Until it was nothing more than a sluggish buzz in the background. 

Minho closes his eyes, about to drift off until he hears the sound on Tae sinking into the chair on his left. It’s loud and scraping and Minho can’t stop himself from feeling even more upset.

“Hey Minho, please tell me I left my notes at your place.” Tae says, shaking Minho awake with one arm while digging through their mustard yellow book bag with the other.

“Yeah. You did. It’s on the desk.” Minho says, rubbing his eyes and gladly accepting a sip of Tae’s caramel shake.

Upon seeing their notes, Tae’s eyes widen just the slightest bit, their lips stretching into a sincere smile.

“Thanks Min, you’re a lifesaver.” Tae says, taking back their milkshake and slurping up the remains. Their eyes seem just a bit livelier today, is if they held something almost electrifying in them.

The class starts a couple moments after, but Minho’s stuck watching Tae, feeling the weight of the tattoo written across his skin sear almost painfully.

“You alright?” Tae asks, the unmovable smile still in place as they gently shake Minho out of his trance.

Minho shrugs, looking up at their professor and jotting down some quick notes, opting to ignore Tae’s concerned gaze. He felt guilty for trying to ignore Tae, but he really didn’t want to go into explanations. He felt tired, incredibly sleepy to the point where all he wants is to crawl back into bed.

“Hey, seriously Minho, you okay?” Tae says, this time a little softer, a little more caring. It’s tentative and troubled and Minho feels twinges of yellow flitter between them.

“Yeah.” Minho responds unconvincingly and Tae tsks. 

After class Tae drags Minho to their small little cafe, the one nestled between a bookstore and a convenience mart, Minho’s favorite. Like always, It’s not entirely packed, keeping an ambiance of pure coziness. The entire shop smells like everything good and sweet, and it makes the world feel like it’s only shades of soft vanilla. 

Tae buys Minho his favorite drink, setting it down before Minho with a small thump. Minho lets out a tiny sigh when he rests his head on his folded arms. They’re sitting at their usual table and Minho can’t help but smile when Tae looks at them almost determinedly. Minho could feel the table gently shake from Tae constantly tapping their fingers against the worn wood. As Minho stares out the big window on the entrance to the cafe, Tae gets progressively impatient.

“You know the whole soulmate thing?” Minho says when he figures Tae can’t take it anymore. 

Tae nods and slides Minho the other half of his double chocolate chip cookie. It makes Minho smile just a bit, and Tae counts it as a victory. 

“Yeah, well. I got someone’s name that I don’t know.” Minho says, taking a bite of the cookie to keep himself busy, to keep his eyes trained on anything else other than Tae.

Tae falls silent for a while, their lips open and close, as if they were trying to grasp words that didn’t even exist. After a while Tae looks at Minho sympathetically, patting Minho’s shoulder before rambling about everything and nothing at once. Because Tae knows that Minho needs a distraction right now.

As the sun gently tiptoes across the sky, tugging along puffy clouds and swirls of blue, Tae talks the day away in their coffee shop. In their quaint place they’ve frequented ever since they both entered their university, Minho starts feeling the slightest bit better.

When Tae sends him home, Minho gives Tae a strong hug, he whispers thank you and doesn’t let go until he feels Tae’s fingertips getting colder. 

He sighs deeply, almost harshly when he enters his apartment. He’s alone and it’s then when he feels the crushing reality of the whole situation. Shaking his head, Minho tries to clear his thoughts, opting to instead worry about the way Tae’s eyes seem to lose a bit of their spark. 

Minho thinks back to what could’ve happened, if he’s said anything, crossed any lines. He can’t come up with anything though, and the guilt of not being there for Tae when he should have been is even worse to swallow than the fact that they are simply not meant to be.

—

It’s a bit colder now, the harsh whispers of winter start creeping in, right into the air as the brilliant marigold leaves start to decay into a soft brown color. 

Minho relishes in the cold, loving the fact that everything seems a little bit more chilly. His birthday is coming up, as well as the holidays, and the thought of his mother’s hot chocolate is genuinely driving him to keep on studying these past few weeks.

He’s so immersed in studying that he wasn’t expecting Tae to be knocking on his apartment door with two lukewarm coffees.

“I haven’t seen you in like three weeks.” Tae says when they pass Minho his coffee. The whipped cream on top has now settled into a mushy lump atop the lid, and the coffee itself is a bit too sweet because of the chocolate syrup, but Minho smiles knowingly.

“Thanks. I felt like a zombie.” Minho says, taking two large gulps of his coffee before inviting them in, taking Tae’s russet brown coat before tilting his head a bit in confusion.

“Wait, this is mine.” Minho muses, holding up Tae’s coat and twisting it to the back to look at the tag.

Tae gives out a chuckle, kicking off their shoes and musing up their hair a bit, looking as home as they could ever possibly be in the warm color scheme of Minho’s apartment. Looking as if they belonged right next to the warm coppers, right next to the pastel yellow-ish painting Minho’s brother gifted him with a couple years back.

“Yeah. It is.” Tae says simply, plopping down on Minho’s couch, careful not to slide Minho’s laptop off with his sock clad feet.

And that’s that really. Because honestly, everything that Tae owns is Minho’s, and vice versa. He can’t complain anyway, he has coffee and a bunch of assignments to do, he can’t quite afford any time to entertain Tae right now anyway.

Tae understands though, says that they just stopped by because they know it’s not healthy for Minho to be all cooped up in his apartment, even if Minho doesn’t realize it himself.

“Just study, I’ll be on my phone or something.” Tae says, taking out his cracked phone from his back pocket. 

It fell from the second story window from Tae’s old house a few summers ago, and miraculously it didn’t die or anything, it just shattered into near pieces. Tae’s too lazy to go and fix it though, and Minho already made a mental note to take it to a shop for christmas, more for the fact that it bothers the hell out of Minho than anything else really.

“You’re just gonna sit there on my couch and be near me as I study?” Minho questions, grabbing his laptop and sitting himself right next to Tae, biting back a smile when Tae shrugs.

“Yeah pretty much. Although at about an hour or two I’m gonna stop you, and we’re both gonna watch re-runs of parks and rec because you seriously need to take a break or something.” Tae says, unlocking his phone and texting away.

Minho smiles lightly, looking back down at his textbook and letting out a small thank you, before grabbing his pink highlighter, dragging it across his spare paper a few times to clean it from the ink streaks.

Tae pats Minho’s leg absentmindedly in a silent response, leaning their back against Minho’s arm before letting out a yawn. And with a slight smirk Minho returns to his work, flipping through nearly indecipherable texts and sipping his much too sweet coffee.

Tae does stop him after a while, leaning back harder on Minho playfully, until their head hits Minho’s laptop. And their antics continue until Minho closes everything he’s working on and gives Tae a pointed look.

And Tae laughs, poking Minho’s cheek before turning on the television.

It isn’t long before the entirety of Minho’s living room is warm with soft laughter, Tae’s throwing their head back every time Minho rewinds and they laugh all over again. They watch about three episodes before Tae turns to Minho, sitting crosslegged on the tan couch, an off-white pillow in his arms.

And Minho turns down the volume on the television just a bit, turning to look at Tae amusedly.

“What?” he says, lifting up one eyebrow as Tae gives him a crooked smile.

“Do you agree with the platonic soulmate theory, or the romantic one?” Tae asks.

And Minho lets out a soft hum, his eyes turning to the ceiling as if it held all the answers and words Minho couldn’t seem to grasp.

“Especially because, you don’t know who you got.” Tae continues, referring to the jumble of clean lines running across his collarbone.

Minho hums for a while, clicking his tongue as he tries to respond. He shifts a little on his couch cushion, inhaling deeply before responding, “I think, to like a certain point, both are correct. I think having a soulmate doesn’t necessarily mean it’s always romantic. I mean, a soulmate just means someone that you have an indescribable bond with, right? It doesn’t have to be romantic if someone doesn’t want to.”

Tae stays silent for a moment, their eyesight flickering to the television, reflecting off brilliant cyan hues mixed with chartreuse and an entirely different color that seemed to belong uniquely to Tae. 

“So, do you believe in love at first sight?” Tae asks after a few moments. The question echoes off the walls heavily, settling along the air in an almost uncanny way. 

Minho rubs at the back of his neck, staying silent for a moment as he tries to find the right words to put his thoughts in place. And Tae stays still in their seat, waiting patiently for Minho, because they’re used to Minho taking a while to respond with certain questions. They don’t mind at all really, in fact, Tae loves that Minho takes his words seriously, that he doesn’t want to say anything that he doesn’t absolutely believe in. 

“Nah. I don’t think it’s love. I think two people can be infatuated at first sight, and that it could eventually turn into love. Or that there are people that you just—click with, and that’s pretty great but I just think that. That love is something deeper than that.” Minho says, drinking the last bits of his coffee before sighing. “I think romantic love is, something that needs time to grow. It needs dedication and time and just. Yeah.”

Minho trails off, looking back at Tae expecting them to be lightly snickering. Instead, Tae nods, looking right back up at Minho before saying okay. And Minho honestly appreciates the fact that Tae knows exactly when to pull back or let go.

A few moments pass by, until the atmosphere gets a bit lighter again and it’s just as pleasant as before. It isn’t until the sky darkens a bit, and the living room television gets a bit brighter, that Tae pulls on Minho’s sleeve almost tentatively.

“Yeah?” Minho says gently, noting the soft, timid look in Tae’s eyes.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Tae asks, toying with the ends of Minho’s pillow almost embarrassedly as their eyes shift between the space in between both of them and remote control lying hazardously on the floor.   

“Probably just gonna cram some more for next week, why?” Minho responds, turning in his place to look at Tae fully, loving the way the city lights from outside are muted against his apartment window, turning the most brilliant of reds into a soft burgundy color.

With a deep sigh shook their entire frame, Tae gently spoke, “I’m telling my parents.”

Instantly Minho in a deep breath, he looked into Tae’s eyes, finding determination flickering in them. There were cold shivers running down his spine, and he hoped Tae would turn out okay.

“Are you sure?” Minho asked quietly, resting his hand on Tae’s shoulder, squeezing Tae lightly when they exhaled slowly, as if it were painful.

“I’m tired of hiding.” Tae says, frustration the last bits of their sentence. “I’m twenty, Minho. I’m done with this. I don’t want to lie anymore.”

Minho nods, mindlessly brushing Tae’s bangs out of their eyes, watching as Tae progressively gets more cautious, as if they were shutting themselves down.

“So I just, wanted you to know. Because you know my parents, and I just. I wanted to make sure that if anything happens—that I could just stay here for a little bit. if you don’t mind.” Tae says, their voice becoming smaller and smaller until the last part is almost inaudible.

Minho wordlessly pulls Tae closer, until they’re trapped in Minho’s arms and their face is buried into Minho’s chest. And it’s comforting, it’s needed, because right now Tae needs a little bit more bravery, a healthy dose of reckless courage.

“You don’t even have to ask, you know that.” Minho says moments later, low and soft, rubbing circles into Tae’s back.

It’s dark outside now, with only the headlights of random cars driving off softly into the night. It’s quiet and calming and with every light drifting alongside the road, a spark of hope is lit, and suddenly Minho gets the strong sense that everything will turn out okay.

Tae nods once, until they start to gently shake and Minho briefly wonders of Tae will start to cry. 

They don’t though, they just stay silent and tiredly in Minho’s embrace, trying their hardest to build up strength for tomorrow. 

—

The afternoon is still, the blaring sunlight outside is blending itself with the unusually warm winter day, as if time decided to lapse between winter and spring. It feels as if the whole world itself was holding their breath along with Minho. Feels like the air itself is just waiting, still and ready to strike,

Minho doesn’t do much, sprawling out on his worn living room couch, constantly switching channels on the television, his mind buzzing with what-ifs and every other possible scenario. The world isn’t a soft citrine yellow, instead it’s a vibrant rouge mixed with dots of sky blue and Minho hopes Tae will be alright.

Everything is tense, laced with a soft anxiety as each minute passes slowly by, ticking away the last remains of Minho’s resolve. He’s about to text Tae, message him anything really, just to see if he’s okay—but then he hears a knock.

It’s small and almost silent, nearly going unheard if Minho wasn’t constantly listening for it. It’s neatly trimmed nails skimming across familiar wood in a way that was so routine and familiar, yet uncharacteristically shy, almost apologetic. The next four knocks happen a couple moments later, they were hurried and slightly frantic and Minho rushed to open his front door, bracing himself for the worst.

Minho threw his door open, and for just a second time froze. The biting winter air suddenly came back, and the world shifting from a bright crimson to a warm pink, a pink that made Minho softly ache.

Tae’s eyes were slightly red, and the tip of their nose was tinged with rose. And Minho was completely still in shock, unable to move until Tae started hiccuping gently. Tiny little whimpers seemed to be stuck in their throat, trying their hardest to push themselves out, even when Tae swallowed their pain. 

What ever happened after that was blurred over.

All Minho could feel was his heart being squeezed almost painfully, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he was pulling Tae into his apartment until he shut the door with the heel of his foot.

They both crashed onto their couch, into their small little faux leather couch that they seemed to gravitate to. Minho kept his arms wound tightly against Tae’s shoulders, eventually moving his hands up to play with Tae’s hair when they started to brokenly sob right into Minho’s collarbone.

And right in the small little cream walls of Minho’s apartment echoed the sound of anguish, the sound of someone crying their very soul out. 

Because Tae rarely cried, but when they did, it was like they were making up for all the instances in which their eyes held back, in which their eyes just barely became glassy and a flood of emotions were forcefully locked away. Tae cries with reckless abandon, as if there were nothing else to do, no words to say.

Minho, in turn, murmured little words of encouragement until Tae’s breathing started to even out, until suddenly the sunshine wasn’t so blaring and the world wasn’t so harsh. Until the dusty pink became a little more orange, a little more sun-dipped, a few seconds away from turning into liquid gold.

“Are you…are you okay?” Minho asks, knowing that it’s painfully obvious that Tae is in fact, not alright.

But contrary to what Minho thinks, Tae cracks a small smile, it’s a tired one, with hints of melancholy sorrow, but it’s there and it’s beautiful.

It feels like summer.

“I’m okay.” Tae responds, rubbing at their eyes before yawning. “I feel, relieved actually. Like I just, I just feel freed, you know? Like yeah everything’s a lot more ty but I just feel like—like I don’t have to hold anything back.”

Tae’s voice cracks a little, but it’s still strong, still determined. And Minho wonders how one person can be so strong. He wonders how Tae can hold the entire sun in their chest, keeping it safe so that the flowers in their lungs could grow.

“I know this was really hard for you, and you probably just faced a whole mess, but I want you to know that, they still love you. You’re parents love you so much, they just don’t understand.” Minho says softly, giving Tae’s shoulder a soft squeeze and it really isn’t long until Tae’s crying all over again.

Tae wraps their arms around Minho tightly, as they were afraid Minho were to slip away if they gave just a fraction of an inch in between them. They whisper thank you, almost a million and one times until Minho pulls away.

“Tae, you don’t have to thank me for anything. You know that. You’re my best friend, I’ll always be here for you.” Minho says while gently running his hands through random strands of Tae’s hair.

He feels Tae stiffen up a bit, and the air around them buzzes with something Minho couldn't quite name as they look up at Minho almost imploringly, as if Tae was about to tell Minho a secret.

“Could you—do you think that, maybe you could stop calling me Tae?” They say, not necessarily gently, but with undertones of wishful thinking mixed with unconditional trust.

And Minho’s eyebrows scrunched a little, but otherwise he gave no complaint, he was seconds away from asking why, but Tae rushed in apologetically, rubbing at their eyes and clearing their throat as they began to ramble, a habit they’ve always done when they were nervous.

“It’s just that, you know when we were younger, I kinda didn’t know what this thing was really. And I just feel like, like “Tae” ties me back into what I was—or what people think I am, and I’m just not “Tae”. I never was. And it’s not, I don’t blame you I just—”

“What did they do.” Minho dead panned, tilting Tae’s chin upwards to stare Tae dead in the eyes, causing Tae to stutter slightly. Their eyes were still that gorgeous dark brown color, and as the sun crawled against Minho’s window, they started to almost glow. 

Tae took a deep breath, looking down to avoid Minho’s stare before gritting their teeth, “They called me…they called me Taeyeon.” Tae says quietly, covering their face with their hands as if it were enough to stop the flurry of tears that prickled the back of their eyes.

Minho felt his chest constrict, he felt something hard tug at his heart, something like an immense sense of injustice and helplessness. Something a bit worse than anger, a feeling of complete and utter powerlessness. 

Softly, Minho pulled Tae’s hands away from their face, lightly locking their fingers together before letting out a small, I’m sorry. There wasn’t much Minho could do really, only being able to offer support and a comforting place that he hoped Tae would find solace in.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” Tae says, their voice strained and low, still fighting back a flurry of emotions, a flurry of everything all at once.

Moments flicker by, in which they both stay still, in which in the silence all that needs to be said is done. Tae’s broken breaths start to calm down, until Tae’s chest doesn’t painfully crush their lungs with every exhale. Until suddenly the room starts shifting from an orange to an almost yellow, not quite there but almost, just a few centimeters away.

Minho then tweaks Tae’s nose, impulsively and a bit childishly, feeling a bit lighter when Tae laughs a little. It’s a bit hushed and a bit sore, but it’s a chuckle and Minho takes it as a good thing, takes it as a sign to press forward just a bit more.

“Did you finally choose a name then?” Minho asks, squeezing Tae’s fingers in excitement and support. 

Tae smiles once again, this time a little less tentative, even with a soft hint of bashfulness. It’s tear-streaked and hopeful and it fills Minho up with something he can’t really name.

“Yeah. I did. Last week actually, I just didn’t get a chance to bring it up.” Tae says, taking one hand away from Minho’s loose hold to wipe at his cheeks, the other one still kept safely entwined with Minho’s.

“Well?” Minho presses, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Tae rolls his eyes before grabbing onto Minho’s cheek and tugging mischievously. It’s light and sweet and Minho knows everything’s fine now, that everything’s gonna be okay.

Outside the sunlight seems to get a bit softer, seems to gently graze upon Minho’s living room, turning everything into a soft, orange-yellow color. Almost there, almost perfect.

“I’ve decided that, that my name is Taemin. He, him pronouns.” Taemin says proudly. smiling wide and big, smiling a smile that Minho knows, that he’s known ever since they were little. A certain smile that sweetly showed Taemin’s cute teeth, usually hidden behind the back of his hand. A rare smile that had Minho smiling back.

“Taemin?” Minho repeats, liking the way the name seems to roll off his tongue. “Lee Taemin.” 

Taemin laughs then, all sweet and airy. Taemin laughs the same way he hopes, the same way he dreams, unrestrained and ridiculously fearless.

And then everything turns into gold.

—

a/n: first part is done! i was gonna make this a oneshot, but once i hit 6k words i just decided to split this piece ;A; so this is like the “story” and the next chappie will be like an epilogue of sorts (they gotta figure out that they’re soulmates lmao) so far i got like 1k written and i think it’ll be around 2k, maybe 3k if im feeling up for it idek idek.

alrighty so this piece is a lil complex, but if anyone has any questions then please ask!! also a quick note: this whole thing is told exclusively from minho’s perspective. 

anyway i hope you lovelies had a wonderful week and thanks for reading ♡♡