Taemin stared at his phone screen with blurry eyes.   On​e new message - Jjongie
It was past midnight, and he’d spent the later part of his evening sourcing an open hotel to hide in. The small hotel he’d found was uncomfortable and the electrics dimly flickered, but it was clean (the smell of damp only slight), and he had a roof over his head and a bed to curl up in. His new phone lay on the duvet he sat on, a small, piece-of- cell that only served a phone’s main purpose. He’d transferred the SIM card from the cell he’d crushed earlier, but he’d done that half an hour ago, and his eyes hadn’t left the screen ever since.   One new message - Jjongie  
A tear streaking his cheek, Taemin clicked ‘read’.   Taemin, I understand if you don't want to see me, and I don't even know if you'll get this, but if you do, please call me. Please. I found something out that will help you. And I need to talk to you. I need to see you. Please, Taemin. Don't ignore me. Please.

Burying his head in his hands, Taemin sobbed.
•••   Jonghyun gazed at the picture in his hand with the faintest of smiles playing on the corner of his lips. It was an old picture, and he’d actually been surprised to find it tucked neatly into the tattered leather-bound photo album.
It was of Taemin’s eighteenth birthday, and the five of them had put the camera on a timer and crowded around the misshapen timeline they’d spent hours creating for Taemin. In it, the dawn was slowly breaking, and it was only the plethora of outside lights they’d found that stopped them from becoming undecipherable silhouettes. The memory warmed Jonghyun slowly, before searing his heart and leaving a score there; he found now that the past only served to burn him.
Biting down on his bottom lip, he pushed the photo album across the coffee table, the scent of cold tea sharp as he did so. Jonghyun hugged a cushion to his chest and fell back against the sofa, bringing up his knees, more akin to a child than an adult.  The lampshade above him caused the light to refract almost violently across the room, casting shadows in the darkest of corners, emphasising the loneliness that served Jonghyun nothing but emptiness and ambiguity.
He knew texting Taemin had been the right thing to do. It had to be. He couldn’t allow the things he’d found out to remain hidden to Taemin, and nor could he let Taemim remain hidden either. Both realities were harsh, cynical, and they didn’t sit right with Jonghyun.
Deep down, however, Jonghyun knew there was more to it than that.
Taemin scared him; Taemin upset him; Taemin annoyed him; but, above all, Jonghyun knew that Taemin loved him. He’d practically admitted it, unashamedly and unforgivably, a love he’d been honing for many months – years, even. And he’d managed to find his way through to Jonghyun, rendering him useless the night he’d finally found him. Though Jonghyun didn’t think he replicated those feelings, though he knew that he was intertwined in his own relationship and that Taemin had been his brother for so long, part of him ne​eded the comfort that Taemin had provided. Part of him knew that, without it, he’d lose all feeling, all purpose and all worth.
He knew it was a mistake. He knew he never should have kissed Taemin, never should have slept with him or let him take as much control of him as he did, but it had felt so natural, so obvious. It seemed to click together, like a picture in a frame, or a photo in an album, and it had given Jonghyun a feeling he’d missed for so long: the feeling of being wanted. Of course, he wouldn’t allow it to happen again – he was a man in love, a man with a partner, a man with a conscience – though he had to see Taemin again, to prove that someone still cared.
But Taemin had threatened him. Taemin had left him. Taemin might not even reply.
Jonghyun stifled a yawn with the back of his palm and allowed the stress to crinkle his forehead viciously. Everything was so wrong, so out of place, so-
Across from Jonghyun, the phone began to ring.
•••
Taemin held the phone to his ear, breathing slow and calm. He’d rehearsed what he was going to say, he’d practiced it and it was going t