Go, behold: I send you out as lambs in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves.

But beware of men, for they will hand you over to the courts and whip you in their synagogues.

- Timothy 1:12-16

Minho sits on Taemin’s bed in Taemin’s dark bedroom and holds him in his arms. He is gentle with Taemin, his arms as relaxed and his hands as soft as he can make them. Despite this, though, the muscles in his neck are tense, and his breath is shallow and nervous. He shouldn’t be here, in Taemin’s bedroom, in Taemin’s house. This house is forbidden to him, but he had no choice, not when Taemin was crying like that, not when Taemin needed him so badly. But by being here, Minho has broken a long-held secret promise, and if he is discovered –

He must not be discovered.

Taemin has closed his eyes, and Minho can see the patterns of blue veins in his paper-thin eyelids. The delicate bones of his face curve beneath skin that is almost translucent, and his arms are tucked against his body like the fragile wings of a bird. Minho has the impression that at any moment Taemin could take flight and soar away.

He remembers how, back then, Taemin used to smile. His eyes would crinkle up into laughing crescents, and light would seem to spill over from them. He remembers the innocence that radiated from him, the eagerness to please, the open heart that was always ready to love. He yearns to pull away the layers of anger and hurt and sorrow, to find the boy he’d once known hiding deep inside.

Taemin does not remember the basement. Minho might have been relieved to hear this, because the basement is the worst memory of his life and he would rather forget it himself – but Taemin is affected by that missing memory in a way Minho does not really understand, and it scares him. The basement scarred Minho, but it seems to have broken Taemin.

He holds his precious, sleeping burden in his arms, and he remembers…

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Minho first meets Taemin at the soccer fields. He and one of his teammates from the under-14’s soccer team, both keen enough to want to stay on the pitch after Saturday morning practice is over and the rest of the team has disappeared, have rounded up enough of the neighbourhood kids to play a game of five-aside.

One of these kids is a boy about Minho’s age. Minho has never seen him before, but the moment he lays eyes on him, something stirs within him, something strange and bright and vast, something he has never felt before. He cannot take his eyes from him. He is fascinated by the bird-like limbs, the shaggy, too-long hair he keeps having to push out of his eyes, the incredible, delicate beauty of his face. He is so distracted that he keeps forgetting that he’s supposed to be playing soccer and just stands there on the pitch, watching Lee Taemin.

“Wake up, Minho!” His under-14’s teammate yells. “Get your head in the game!”

Minho shakes his head as if shaking himself out of a dream. He runs up to the ball, easily steals it from Taemin, and starts dribbling it back towards the other goal. Taemin chases him, running close in an attempt to get the ball back, but Minho is far too skilled to let an untrained kid steal the ball from him. He kicks the ball past the goalkeeper easily. It’s not really a great achievement getting the ball past a girl who’s more interested in her phone than the game, but he celebrates anyway, whooping and punching the air. When he spins around to run back up the pitch, he sees that Taemin is beaming at him, despite being on the opposite team.

“You’re really good,” the other boy says breathlessly as they jog back to the centre line, and Minho can’t help the huge grin that spreads across his face. He knows he’s good at soccer, but somehow, those words coming out of Taemin fill him with more joy and pride than anything else he’s ever known.

Their friendship comes as naturally as breathing. They live about the same distance from the soccer fields, but in opposite directions, and are zoned for different schools. The fields being their central point, they meet there after school and on weekends. They play games, mess about and wander around town, and every time he sees Taemin, Minho grows more fascinated with him. Taemin’s smiles send warmth and joy flooding through him, and when he laughs it’s like the whole world lights up. He wants to hold his hand, wants to his hair, wants to touch his face. He is captivated by this beautiful, waifish boy, and though he’s never fallen in love before, Minho instinctively knows that this is what’s happened to him. He has fallen in love with Lee Taemin.

One day they go to Taemin’s house. It’s going to be a long walk home for Minho, but he doesn’t mind at all. He follows Taemin around with the edgy thrill of a tourist. Taemin’s house is huge, and in shocking opposition of his own. Instead of bare boards underfoot, there is soft carpet, and all the furniture matches. There is art on the walls, instead of the faded posters and photographs tacked to the peeling wallpaper at Minho’s much smaller house, and the whole place is insanely tidy. Things like fancy lamps and carved tables fill the corners, and there are a lot of statues and paintings of Christian figures Minho vaguely recognises from religious studies at school. He’s never even set foot in a church, but it’s obvious that Taemin’ s family are very religious.

They go upstairs to Taemin’s room, and there they discover that they both love music. Minho has learned piano and guitar at school for three years now, but Taemin, who has private lessons, is better. Still, it is easy for them to match their playing. Taemin has several guitars, and he lets Minho play one. They make music together, and Minho’s world has never been more perfect.

One afternoon they play with the basketball hoop in Taemin’s driveway for hours, and when they’re exhausted they go into the back garden and flop down together on the soft green lawn. The sky is looming hot and grey, and the wind whispers and stirs around them, lifts their hair in its swirling, teasing way.

Minho closes his eyes. He feels like every nerve in his body is standing on end. He thinks he can actually feel Taemin’s aura bumping up against his. They are not physically touching, but a sense of electric connection exists in the air between them. Minho wonders if Taemin feels it too.

There is a pause filled with all the unful