Taemin sighed, exasperated, and slammed his water bottle down on the counter.

“Alright, just hang on, let me call my manager and tell him to cancel my upcoming schedule so I can spend the rest of the month cuddling with you.” he half shouted, extremely annoyed.

“You don’t have to make this relationship sound a burden.” his boyfriend replied, obviously hurt.

“I’m not. I mean-Minho, honestly, I can’t believe you’re making me choose between my dream since I was like, five, and you. I can’t just give up on this- ”

“Then maybe you’ll have to give up on something else.” Minho got up, nearly knocking down his chair in the process, and made his way to his bedroom without waiting for an answer.

“You’re being ing unfair.” the younger yelled, following him.

“Oh I’m sorry, is asking you to be simply committed to this thing we call a relationship too much on you?” Minho turned around and snarled, his tone so harsh it made Taemin flinch internally. Minho never spoke to him like that. Not once.

“Minho, please,” he pleaded, “you can’t just-”

“If you wanted this, us, to go on, you wouldn’t need to be reminded.” and with that the bedroom door slammed in his face.

Taemin stood there, his body refusing to leave the spot as if he was rooted to it, as if he belonged there even though, now, he didn’t. He felt numb, not being able to believe that their nearly-two-years-long relationship was over, just like that; with one sentence, what they shared meant nothing anymore.

Only when he heard Jonghyun, who shared a room with him, speak he was brought back to reality-more like slapped back because he didn’t want to come back to this, for sure, yet he was forced to.

“What’s going on?” his roommate asked.

The question was left hanging in the air, and Taemin just turned and walked to the bathroom as if no one was talking to him.

If slamming the door in Taemin’s face didn’t make Minho feel like an , then spending the night wide awake as he listened to Taemin sobbing in the next room while Jonghyun comforted him definitely did the trick.

God, he never wanted to punch himself in the face so badly.

Ever since he slammed the door shut in his lover’s face, he’s been sitting against it in the same position for hours now, and he was feeling so shocked at what he’s done that the burning sensation in his legs, begging to be moved, didn’t matter to him. He didn’t cry, didn’t even shed a single tear, didn’t feel angry or sad or frustrated, just completely numb and utterly thunderstruck.

He broke up with Taemin.

He broke up with Taemin.

When he cornered his boyfriend earlier in the kitchen after he got home from practice, he didn’t see this in the horizon. He was simply worried about Taemin’s health. It hurt him to see his precious angel overworking himself like that, waking up early and leaving the dorm before any of them, and returning late at night, too exhausted to eat or talk or do basically anything . Minho just wanted to talk some sense into him, he was just too concerned, but the other just ended up flipping out on him, to which Minho reacted….well, not so calmly.

He wanted to tell himself that tomorrow is going to be a new day, but he knew that Earth’s rotation around the sun is not going to change the fact that it still happened.

He still, broke up with Taemin.

Minho fell asleep against the wooden door of his bedroom in a restless, uncomfortable slumber and was awakened when he felt himself falling, and falling, and then came a little bit more sliding down before the side of his head hit the door knob and he opened his eyes with a painful groan as he rubbed his forehead.

When he felt that he was just a tad awake, came the excruciating process of standing up-which was near impossible since every single muscle in his body was stiff from not moving for nearly ten hours.

And then, just like when you’re standing on a train track, and you see a train coming your way in full speed, not caring about your screams and your waving arms, and then it hits you full-force, crushing your bones, silencing you and knocking you to the ground. Making you experience the worst kind of pain as you draw in your last breath. That’s how it felt when Minho’s brain registered the previous night’s events and he found himself swinging the door open and running out, his eyes scanning every corner of of the dorm frantically for a sign of Taemin, but when he saw that it was nearly ten in the morning, he realized that he’d be at rehearsals by now.

And that was confirmed when

“If you’re looking for Taemin so you can break what remained of him, he’s already left for practice.” Jonghyun said wryly, emerging from his room and passing Minho without even looking at him.

Minho wanted to talk back to him, but he’s got more important things to do.

Like unscrew up his screw up.

So he ran out to the door, picked the first pair of shoes that he saw and hurried out to his car, and four traffic lights, and many profanities later at the seemingly unmoving stream of vehicles that was in front of him, Minho made it to the studio where he knew he’d find the blonde boy.

When he reached the practice room, Minho stood outside the door, the loud blasting music filling his ears as he peeked inside, catching glimpse of the younger boy in the mirror as he danced smoothly; his feet moving and sliding from side to side, back and forth, so lightly and easily as if it took him no effort at all. Minho watched him put a foot in front of the other so fast he barely caught it before he was swaying his hips and kneeling to the ground. It was beautiful, the way Taemin moved. The way he was so immersed in what he was doing, in love with every step he took, owning the moves as if it was all made only for him, as if he was drunk with passion, energy oozing out of him like the sun gave out light.

The taller remained hidden behind the door as Taemin replayed the song and went through the choreography two more times before he decided to step in, and when he did Taemin saw his reflection in the mirror, and their eyes locked for a moment before the younger hit play and the music drowned out every other sound in the room.

Minho didn’t exactly appreciate that and moved to block the younger’s way, grabbing him by the shoulders to stop him from walking away.

“Taemin, we need to talk.” he shouted over the music as the other boy just looked down at the hands on his shoulders, waiting for the taller to move out of him way.

“Oh you made it all clear enough last night.” when he looked up, Minho noticed how red the rims of Taemin’s eyes were and he hated himself a little more.

“Things weren’t supposed to end like this. Please, let me talk to you.” Minho pleaded.

“I’m busy.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I don’t want you to.” snapped the younger.

“I’ll wait anyway.”

As hours passed with Minho sitting outside the practice room with a warm cup of coffee he got from the machine by the end of the corridor, he found himself falling in love even deeper with Taemin’s voice, which was invading his ears with each song he played. It gave him a feeling of pink warmness, like the sips he was taking from his paper cup, except it was even better. Yet that warm feeling would come with a bitter taste in his mouth as he remembered that it wasn’t his anymore.

When he looked up at the clock on the wall and saw it was exactly five in the afternoon, Minho shot up, threw away his now empty cup and went into the practice room.

“I’m leaving right now, and you’re coming with me.” he told the younger boy, who was crouched down and panting.

“No, I’m not.”

“I don’t remember asking you. Get up, you’ve been doing this for hours now, that’s enough.”

“What I do with my life stopped being your business about twenty hours ago.” the blond glared at him.

“God, Taemin, can you not-just get the hell up right now.” Minho snapped and was stunned when he saw the younger gathering his things, ready to actually leave with him.

The two walked in a painfully awkward silence towards the elevator, reached to press the button simultaneously, looked at each other, then reached for the button once again before the younger puffed his cheeks, crossed his arms and let the taller do it instead, feeling defeated for some reason.

“You’re cute when you pout.” Minho giggled, nearly missing a kick from Taemin as they walked into the elevator.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, and watched the doors close, both of them praying eternally for those seconds to pass as quickly as possible, however apparently, heaven’s doors were closed and they felt the elevator coming to a sudden halt, making Taemin grip Minho’s arm for support as he groaned.

“ing hell, no.”

“I should be in the practice room. I should be up there. Oh God, what have you done. Why did I agree to come with you. Minho, you freaking-my comeback stage is tomorrow and I should be practicing, I need to be good. God, I hate you-”

“Taemin,” Minho cut him off, “you don’t have to worry about tomorrow. From what I saw today, you’ll be able to pull it off even if you were asleep. Just sit down, will you?”

As the blonde sat down crossed legged in front of Minho, he spoke, “Do you have a phone? We should call someone.”

“No, I forgot it at home.” which was something Minho realized whilst waiting outside the practice room. He heard Taemin mutter ‘idiot’ under his breath.

“Really? I forget my phone and I’m suddenly an idiot even though you have yours right in that bag.” says Minho playfully.

“Oh just shut up.”

The older laughs at Taemin’s reddening cheeks, “Looks aren’t everything, Mr.Lee.”

“Good for you, because with that tiny head and alarmingly huge eyes, you wouldn’t stand a chance.” and he knew he was kidding himself.

“Taemin, my tiny head didn’t keep us waiting in the airport for five hours because I forgot my passport.” smiled Minho smugly.

“Alright, I’m stupid, moving on.” Taemin rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t exactly say that,” the older said, nudging Taemin’s foot with his, “plus, my tiny head would know that a phone won’t work in an elevator.”

Taemin doesn’t say anything, his gaze just drops down to his crossed fingers in his lap and after a couple of minutes he lets out a strangled sob that makes the other jump.

“I didn’t mean to-what’s wrong?” Minho sits up on his knees and moves closer to the crying boy who just shakes his head as he trembles and cries loudly, his sobs echoing in the closed, broken elevator.

“I’m going to up.” he whispered when he could without hiccuping.

“That’s not true.”

“I screwed up our relationship, and I’ll to screw up my career tomorrow.”

“No you didn’t, and no you won’t.” Minho’s arm wrapped around Taemin’s trembling shoulders.

“Minho,” Taemin said, his voice quivering, “you wanted to make sure that I was okay, I wasn’t exhausting myself, I was eating regularly, that I was sleeping well. I was a total jerk to you, you’ve got to admit that.”

“Well….yes you were,” they both laugh a little, “but you should’ve talked to me.”

They sat silently, Taemin’s head on Minho’s shoulder, sniffing every now and then before he suddenly looks up.

“What?” Minho gives him a heavy, lazy smile.

“You’re such a smartass sometimes I want to punch you on the mouth, knock off your perfect teeth," smiles Taemin, "but I’m too tired now so I’ll do it with my own mouth instead.”