CHAPTER IN NEED OF SEVERE EDITING

LIKE, SEVERE

BE WARNED. IT ISN'T EVEN FORMATTED RIGHT.

ENJOY <3

•••

“So...” Minho pressed, as Jinki stared at the younger blankly, the Autumnal sunlight dripping over the outside seats of the quaint coffee shop they were currently sharing breakfast at.

“So?” Jinki responded, almost arrogantly, taking a sip of his strong Americano and wishing he'd ordered something blander, like a simple cup of tea, or a glass of water. His eyes drifted from Minho to the view behind him, a back-fall of bent-backed trees and vivid gardens, that plateaued effortlessly into the confines of a lush forest. It was such a spotted haven on the outskirts of Seoul, hidden away in the quietest of areas and creating its own quiet reality. It was very much like Minho to opt to eat somewhere so scenic and personal.

"So, how's it going with that new client?” Minho’s eyes flashed with a childish mischief as he finished the last bit of his sweet pastry – an odd choice for breakfast, but not one Jinki had focused on, for Minho had always had a sweet tooth.

Jinki rolled his eyes, drumming his nails on the table-top and muttering, “Min', I already told you, she's just a client, nothing else. You're the one who keeps bringing her up.”

"Ah, come on,” Minho smiled, happiness not fading even as the sunlight gently cracked his vision. “She's cute, and you're painting her. It's like the plot of some romance novel.”

"She's a person and I need money,” Jinki stated objectively, toying with the fork on his plate sullenly. Beside them, two elderly women glanced at Minho curiously, before resuming to their hushed chatter. Jinki frowned. Minho really was popular amongst all ages.

"But she could be more,” Minho suggested, leaning back in his chair. Over the past month, his hair had lengthened into cute brunette tousles, and he'd somehow become even more toned and muscular, arms shown off by the shirt he wore. Jinki, in contrast, had gotten slimmer – Minho had assumed from working too hard – and had achieved a permanent look of dark rings beneath his eyes, like those that stained the tables of the dainty coffee shop they sat in.

"And so could you, dickhead,” Jinki insulted, causing Minho to purse his lips and fold his arms.

"Man, you really are one old grump, anyone ever tell you that?”

"I'm a single father and an eccentric painter, it's to be expected.”

"Fine,” Minho conceded, “just don’t blame me when you end up as some old, lonely hag in some old, lonely home. I tried, my friend, I tried.”

"Stop trying, then,” Jinki grinned, just as he saw a new customer take a seat out of the corner of his eye.

"Any big plans for October?” Minho queried, as Jinki resumed to staring at his empty plate dejectedly. Though he was glad to have a morning away from his son’s incessant squealing, he missed Yoogeun terribly. After September had swung into action, Jinki had enrolled Yoogeun in a nearby nursery, to give himself some time to think and Yoogeun some time to grow and evolve amongst others. At first, it'd torn Jinki to pieces; without Yoogeun, he was lonely, and his son had hated the nursery, including the other toddlers there, but, with time and patience, both father and son had grown accustomed, though Jinki still couldn’t deny the slight worry that drilled through him given that his son wasn’t in his care, rather in a stranger’s. He knew it was for the best to give his son more freedom, a break away from their home and his company, however, as Yoogeun aged, Jinki feared the consequences of such increasing freedom with every new development.

"I plan to paint,” Jinki admitted, “but I’m thinking of maybe looking for some kind of part-time job... Now that Yoogeun has the nursery, a few shifts a week somewhere couldn’t hurt, and...”

"Jinki,” Minho spoke sternly, “do not over-work yourself. I've warned you about this, you're doing fine, for both you and Yoogeun, and if you need anything, I'm here to-“

"We aren’t charity cases,” responded Jinki sharply, though instantly regretting his tone as he did so, “and I'll be fine. Jesus, Minho, painting is barely breaking Yoogeun and I even. Some light work wouldn’t kill me, it's fine, don’t stress.”

"You know what's best,” Minho sighed. Over the past few weeks, he'd grown less argumentative with his friend, tired of reliving the same debates every time they met up. Jinki was stubborn, it seemed, and had long since stopped listening to what Minho saw as his rather sound advice. He was an impenetrable fabric woven in the grandest of looms, and the scissors the basketballer brandished could never be enough to cut it.

"Hey, wait-“ Minho muttered, “-isn't that- isn’t that one of Kibum’s friends?”

Minho’s eyes were trained in the direction of the cafe’s newest customer, as he slouched back in his seat lazily, fingers tapping away at his mobile phone whilst a pensive frown held his expression. He was dressed rather innocently, with a pale blue jumper, and, as he typed, his eyes occasionally darted from his phone’s screen to the landscape – a cyclic pattern.The curve of his nose was sweet this morning, the sunlight glancing from his features caringly, almost as mellifluous as the pastry Minho had indulged in, and his posture was relaxed, mimicking the understanding of a carefree man, even if his expression pegged him as anything but.

Jinki stared for what seemed like an age.

It'd been almost a month since he'd last seen the cherry-blossom haired musician. Though Jinki hadn't forgotten him, he'd only rarely appeared in the deepest thoughts of his subconscious, in half-remembered dreams and memories with lidded eyes. His son had created various drawings of a superhero in a cape with uncharacteristically pink hair, but Jinki had soon dismissed them from his mind, just as he'd managed to dismiss the odd feelings that had consumed him on the night of Kibum’s birthday. But now, watching the oblivious stranger, everything was revived within Jinki, until he could do nothing but blink, and part his lips in a manner most unmannerly.

"Do you think we should invite him over?” Minho pondered, as Jinki snapped his head back to stare at his friend, suddenly embarrassed for having watched the musician, Jonghyun, for so long. He rubbed his arm awkwardly and scratched his forehead, nervousness beginning to form from an unknown origin, before answering Minho with a, “I don’t know, we, y’know, we barely talked with him.”

"But still,” Minho argued, his amiable personality ever open to creating new bonds, “it'd be rude to ignore him. I think I'll go ask him to come over.”

As Minho stood and pushed back his chair, Jinki opened his mouth to protest but no words came out. He wasn’t even sure why he was so against Jonghyun joining them. He liked to think it was because the younger male would be imposing a block on Minho and Jinki’s own conversation, but he knew that, deep down, that wasn’t the true reason. Minho disappeared, strolling out of Jinki’s sight to talk to Jonghyun, and the artist bit his bottom lip.

He ruffled his hair once, aiming for a casual attempt at trying to look presentable, but ending up fretting himself further as he began to wring his wrists in his hands. His heartbeat also began to tremor erratically, clawing at his ribcage for oxygen as he struggled to compose his fluctuating thoughts.

"Lee Jinki?”

Jinki instantly glanced up with a warm smile plastered across his face, as Minho returned to his seat, and Jonghyun sat at the chair he'd somehow managed to pull over soundlessly. As he spoke Jinki’s name, the older felt something flare within him, reignited, yet he decided he didn’t know what it was and so refused question it, instead concentrating the entirety of his thoughts on being as friendly and kind-hearted as was possible for such an old grump. Jonghyun nodded his head slightly in greeting, cheeks flushed in that familiarly subtle red, as he his bottom lip nervously. When Jinki found his eyes were gingerly latched onto Jonghyun’s lips, he flashed his smile around to Minho, who was staring at his friend with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, hi,” Jinki finally managed, returning Jonghyun’s extended greeting with one of his own. Internally, he wanted to tear himself apart, already aggravated that he'd probably managed to make the younger feel terribly uncomfortable. An embroilment was forming in his stomach as he attempted to subdue the intrusive bouts of self-doubt that plagued him, proliferating across his conscience in an near-blinding pattern.

"Jonghyun was just telling me,” Minho began, the tight atmosphere dissipating as soon as his warm voice captivated the two other men, “that he'd come here under the recommendation of Kibum – isn’t that funny? You're here because of me, and Jonghyun is here because of my housemate...”

Minho grinned slightly and Jonghyun smiled in response, eyes catching Jinki quickly, before he turned his attention back to Minho.

"So, did you have a... A basketball match recently?” Jonghyun asked, practically ignoring Jinki altogether as he addressed the youngest at the table. “Kibum mentioned something about you playing a match a few days ago?”

"Ah,” Minho laughed, “yeah, it was nothing major though, but we won, thankfully. Honestly, every time I’m in a match, Kibum tells somebody. I don’t even know why.”

"He's just proud,” Jinki commented, slowly returning to his old self as he became more comfortable towards Jonghyun’s presence, working at clenching the writhing apprehension. “You're his 'little star', after all.”

"Oh, please,” Minho chuckled, “do not bring that up again.”

"Well,” Jonghyun interjected, also beginning to sound more at home between Minho and Jinki, beginning to see they valued his company, “now you have to explain.”

"Once when Kibum was, well, drunk,” Jinki began, Jonghyun’s eyes finally landing on his, gaze intense, yet not distractingly so, “he fell into Minho’s arms and started slurring about how Minho was practically his hero, his star and so on. Great to blackmail either of them with if you ever need to."

Jonghyun’s eyes glittered as he flicked them back to Minho, Jinki’s pulse mildly quickening. It felt as if an achievement to offer such a story to Jonghyun, as if he'd broken the boundaries of their rigid personalities.

"I can't believe you just told him that,” Minho muttered, falsely offended, “you're such a dickhead, can I not go, like, one minute without you ruining my reputation?”

"Actually,” Jonghyun interrupted, “it kinda... Well, it actually helps your reputation, in my eyes. The big basketball player is an unseen hero and all that.”

"I hope you meant 'big' in a flattering way,” Minho joked, and Jonghyun shook his head, clamping his hand over his mouth before answering,  “Of course, of course, I'm just... Just words, I’m awful with them.”

"Yeah, well, so is Jinki,” Minho jibed, “I know all his insults are just mis-spoken compliments.”

"Naturally,” Jonghyun laughed, beaming at Minho.

Jinki frowned as something akin to jealousy pecked at his gut. Jonghyun had been so easily charmed by Minho, and was subsequently open with the younger, but had barely even shown Jinki the faintest sign of interest yet, instead merely listening to his stories and offering a polite grin. Jinki bunched up a fist and bit his bottom lip, unsure why he was even pining for Jonghyun’s attention in the first place. Life wasn't a competition, life just passed, but it seemed his mind was ready to fight in a battle that never existed in the first instance.

As the conversation evolved, Jonghyun growing ever-the-more relaxed as he exchanged many topics with Minho, Jinki became increasingly quiet, startled into silence. He occasionally offered a well-timed joke that would curl the corners of Jonghyun’s lips upwards, but the younger never attempted to question Jinki, to prompt a further dialogue, and so therefore Jinki’s jokes had soured and his mood had somewhat faltered.

It was only when Minho excused himself that the mood changed.

"I'm heading to the bathroom,” Minho explained, standing and pushing his seat back with a soft squeak. "Don't miss me too much." As he left, Jonghyun’s expression dropped slightly, and he became rather withheld almost immediately, fidgeting with his sleeve and refusing to make eye contact with Jinki. When he finally peered up, he almost jumped when he found that Jinki was gazing at him with fondness, and the elder couldn't stop himself from blushing at being caught out so unexpectedly.

"So, um, how's your son?” Jonghyun asked brightly, trying to strike a conversation with the fatigued man before him. Underneath the mid-morning light that was so rare for September, and surrounded by the refreshing scent of flowers and pastries, Jinki seemed out of place, like someone who was much more at home beneath a prism of blankets and solitude. Jonghyun offered a friendly smile.

"Oh, you mean Yoogeun?” Jinki asked, the mention of his son unconditionally lending to his contentment. “He's, y’know, a toddler. I found a nearby nursery for kids his age so... Yeah, he's there now, and I'm getting a break, I guess.”

"Ah, that’s nice,” Jonghyun nodded, “we all need breaks sometimes.”

"Indeed,” Jinki agreed, becoming more confident as Jonghyun’s tone became increasingly at one with the delicate nature of the coffee shop he sat in. "Actually, maybe this is strange, but he's drawn a lot of pink haired supermen recently that I can't help but think could possibly have been inspired by you.”

Jonghyun laughed and grinned so widely Jinki was scared his face would split. For some reason, the sight almost made Jinki’s heart skip a beat, thumping in half-breathed shudders as he contemplated the handsome man before him.

"Really?” Jonghyun prompted tilting his head happily. “That's... Well, can I say I’m famous now?”

"Famous in the world of toddlers, most certainly. You seemed to really make an impression on him.”

"I try my best,” Jonghyun joked, eyes inquisitive as he watched Jinki.

"Don't we all, just seems that, if we truly want a child’s attention, we need to have colourful hair.”

"Is that all you think it is?!” Jonghyun exclaimed in mock horror. “What about my charm?”

"Ah, it's lacking.”

Jinki chuckled as he watched Jonghyun’s eyelids bat a few times, his soft giggle only adding to the newfound affection Jinki was discovering. He couldn't place his feelings, and didn’t try to either in fear of finding something he didn’t want to admit, but Jinki couldn’t help but become entranced with the pink-haired musician as Minho returned, wondering what they were laughing about.

The rest of the conversation had flowed even more seamlessly than the beginning, the three men acting as if they were all the closest of friends. Words were exchanged in unplanned joviality, and the chatter became less and less scripted, a bond forged in friendship and not in etiquette. Time passed quicker than Jinki would have liked, however, and soon they were standing at the entrance to the coffee shop, ready to part their ways, as rain began to gently whisper from the clouds above, the weather's fickle tangent in the aftermath of the group's talk.

"Well, I'll see you both around,” Minho spoke, waving himself away decisively. “It was nice speaking to you again, Jonghyun.”

"Likewise,” Jonghyun extended, bowing his head slightly as Minho smiled again, turning and leaving quickly, already late for a training session he'd forgotten about through the course of their conversation. It seemed Minho was often this way, a man who forgot how to understand that, in life, there were more priorities than friendships and coffee shops.

This left Jinki and Jonghyun to each other's company, and, despite the bond they'd somehow ploughed from the fields of their discomfort, they hadn’t quite escaped the realms of awkwardness that had always grasped them, Minho’s departure only accentuating this fact.

"Well, I should probably, y’know, get going,” Jonghyun muttered, as Jinki nodded at him blankly. A few cars trundled distantly on the road beside them, the mostly-empty street a perfect canvas for the engines’ purrs. As the breeze picked up, the traffic did in-tow.

"Okay, yeah, same,” Jinki agreed, but when neither male moved, Jinki realised something had, somehow, upset the balance between them. He offered one last grin, and turned to depart, but as soon as he'd torn his eyes from Jonghyun, a small hand was clenching his wrist and turning him back again. The touch sparked Jinki's thoughts immediately, lending to a violent swelling in his conscience as he bit his bottom lip.

"Jinki, wait,” halted Jonghyun, dropping Jinki’s arm and parting his lips to speak. He was closer to Jonghyun, only a few steps between the pair, and it caused a slight rush of adrenaline through Jinki as he gauged this unprecedented connection, palms sweaty and warm.

"Yeah?” Jinki asked, trying to remain calm despite his confusion at the situation. Behind them, the jingle of the coffee store's door indicated the entrance of another customer, the slight tingle somehow dragging them both from their own world and back into reality.

"Um, just... Never mind,” Jonghyun answered, “it doesn’t matter. Just tell Yoogeun... Ha, tell him the superhero said 'hey'.”

And with that, Jonghyun rapidly turned away, leaving Jinki on the pavement, wrist still burning from the touch.

•••

The breeze was a soft kiss as Minho ran, the trees on either side of him creating a constant miasma of vivid greens and autumnal russets, the leaves caught in the transposition between Summer and Fall. His breathing was heavy but his stamina held up as his feet pounded rhythmically against the forest pathway, the slight mizzle of rain only beginning to dampen his tensed muscles.

Beside him, Taemin moved swiftly, exerting force to keep up with his hyung as they continued to move. Although smaller, leaner and less muscular than Minho, Taemin still sported a runner’s build, slight muscles visible beneath the large grey t-shirt he wore. Though Minho’s running clothes were tight and fitting, only emphasising the toned body he'd honed over the years, Taemin’s were over-sized and baggy, for the younger couldn’t afford to purchase streamlined clothes of his own and had ended up borrowing Minho’s. Minho didn’t mind, though he knew (and had explained) that baggier clothes provided more air resistance, provided a greater obstacle for Taemin if he wished to keep up with Minho, who easily over-powered the dancer with his basketballer’s physique.

After another few minutes, simultaneously they slowed their pace, having ran the same route together many times before. Their footsteps died away in the evening light, gradually resuming to a slow walk as their breathing mingled with the crunching footsteps of those around them. They passed a familiar park bench, Taemin’s hands on his waist, head down, as he walked quietly alongside Minho. Minho glanced at the younger, before reaching into his own pocket and producing an energy supplement. He handed it to Taemin, who tore it open and downed it quickly, relieved to have something to soothe his parched throat. Minho did the same, tearing his citrus flavoured supplement open and out the gel-like substance inside, uncaring about the fact Taemin hadn’t thanked him. The younger didn’t need to - it was a routine they'd practiced many times before. A few seconds later, they passed a bin, disposing of the wrappers, and Taemin tore off the headband that had been keeping his platinum blonde hair from his eyes.

"You're getting quicker,” Minho complimented, as Taemin used the black headband to wipe the sweat from his forehead, before wrapping it around his bony wrist. “Soon I'll have to try keeping up with you.”

Taemin smirked, before murmuring, “Aish, confidence comes before a fall, hyung. Don’t think you can out-run me so easily.”

"I think we all know who the track king in high school was,” Minho boasted, rolling his head on his neck. The sky was a serendipitous purple, nuances of pink and orange beginning to blend the clouds with the calling of night.

"And I think we all know how long ago high school was,” Taemin mused, nodding his head in greeting to a young woman they passed, walking her dog. She blushed slightly and nodded in return, hastening her footsteps, keen to get out of view of the two handsome men.

"Not that long ago for you,” Minho cooed, body beginning to cool off as their lungs returned to their normal breathing pattern. He reached out a strong hand and ruffled Taemin’s hair playfully, the younger swatting him away as he laughed broadly.
A few seconds passed as they regained their senses fully, the chill of the evening wrapping its hands around them.

"So how's Jinki?” Taemin pondered, glancing into the forest beside him. It seemed endless, the twisted myriad of trees that created a pattern not too dissimilar to fine embroidery, and held the strong scent of earth, lending a hand to consume them in the charm of nature.

"Well, he's, y’know, Jinki,” Minho explained, casting his mind back to how his friend had been earlier that morning.

"He's Jinki,” Taemin parroted sadly, knowing what that meant. As the dancer looked down at his trainers, Minho allowed himself to study his face briefly, eyes glossing over the smooth features.

"How's your dad?” Minho asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He knew Taemin didn’t like to discuss it, but Minho couldn’t live without ensuring Taemin’s dad hadn’t leant a hand in diminishing his son’s confidence yet again.

"He's, well, y’know, my dad,” Taemin sighed, kicking a stone from the gravelled pathway. Minho nodded.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.