Epilogue
With every fold
“...and then he grabs my phone or something and waddles away and half an hour later I realize I’ve been playing with him instead of studying. He’s such a sneaky little bean. Wait, there was also this time when I had to do grocery shopping because we were out of lotta stuff and I put him in the baby carrier facing towards me and while I was reading the labels of stuff he kept pulling my cap because I was not paying him any attention–” Taemin stopped, realizing Minho’s gaze and feeling flustered all of a sudden, also realizing he’d just been blabbering for a long time now, “You should stop me when I talk like that.”
Minho cleared his throat, a little embarrassed as well because he’d been caught staring. He finished the last fold for the flower Taemin was teaching him, “Why?” He smiled a little, reaching for Taemin’s hand and gently putting the flower in his palm, “I love listening when you talk like that.”
“Aren’t you bored? Annoyed?” Taemin blushed, “I mean I don’t know how it happens but you now know every little thing my nephew does every day.”
“Nope, he’s cute.” Minho answered, entangling his fingers with Taemin’s, “And his uncle is cuter.”
Taemin kicked his shin, embarrassed by his frank compliments, “Your flower is all wrong,” He slowly freed his hand and put the flower back in Minho’s palm. He took out another waste sheet of paper he’d brought from the Copy room, and started folding slowly, “Follow me carefully this time.”
Minho grabbed a paper as well, following Taemin’s fingers but soon he started talking about the time the Professor caught him folding origami in class and Minho knew he’d be getting his flower wrong yet again.
It had been a couple of months since they started dating and the semester had changed. Minho was in the morning classes this time though he only shared just one class with Taemin. He often ditched his bike so he’d be able to ride the bus with Taemin.
It was Friday and both of them were sharing earphones, listening to Minho’s mixtape playlist. Taemin had dropped his head on Minho’s shoulder, a little drowsy and Minho had slowly entangled their fingers, gently massaging Taemin’s knuckles, making him chuckle because he felt ticklish.
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