Onew couldn’t help but laugh into the cup of his hand—he had to do it quietly so that no one would suspect. He was careful to cover his tracks, but it didn’t really seem to matter in the end—they weren’t paying attention to him. They didn’t even know that he was watching them online as a silent (mostly) observer. And they certainly didn’t seem to think that he could hear them through the wall—after all, his room was next to Jonghyun’s. They shared a wall. It was bad enough to overhear some of their conversational words, much less... other noises, like that one night that who-knows-what happened. All Jinki knew was that those sounds weren’t normal. Those sounds were.... "special." Too special to be mistaken.

            Still, just to be on the safe side, he x’ed the screen and cleared his cache. He’d have a hard time explaining his daily visitation to that site. He didn’t do it for the (he could care less about all that)—he did it to check up on his donsaengs. But now that he figured out they were even spying on each other—well, he needn’t read any further. These guys were driving him crazy with their sneaking around; to see them interact this way in secret, even beyond their own understanding, was just hilarious—how could they not recognize each other already? Even if they’d died and been reborn in a totally different time, a different place or gender—these four would still find their way back again. They were like magnets. A pair of missing halves. He knew it; how long would it take for them to know the same?

            So it was that when Taemin knocked on his door that night, flustered and pensive, that Onew had had enough. Enough with this ‘2Min’ flirtation. Enough with scarred emotions and misinterpreted intentions. Minho’s story was the evidence they’d all been waiting to see—the evidence of his true feelings, aside from all the ‘,’ aside from all the lack of forwardness or confidence or, even, brains. Time to get them together, once and for all.

            “Hyung,” he said after he’d come in the room, wasting no time, “Minho-sshii—he’s...” He was struggling with the words, choking on the awkward discomfort of them. “He’s~”

            “Oh, Taeminnie. Did you have fun in Daehangno today?” Onew asked, taking the maknae by surprise.

            “Huh? How did you know about that, hyung?”

            They will never learn—I know everything. I always know everything.

            “Hm? Lucky guess?”

            “No way—how did you know?”

            He smiled. “Come here, Taeminnie.” 

            The maknae complied, somewhat hesitantly, and Onew hooked an arm around his shoulder. 

            “Don’t you know Appa’s going to take care of everything?”

            Taemin still seemed confused.

            “Or should I say, ‘BananaLove’?”

            His eyes were like globes; his cheeks, like fire. “Hy-hyung...”

            “It’s okay. No need to be embarrassed.”

            Speechlessness.

            “That’s what you were going to tell me, right? That you’ve been talking to Minho-goon online?”

            His face was pale now.

            “Why are you this way?” Jinki laughed. “Is there something to be ashamed of?”

            “I—ah...”

            Jinki slapped the sides of his cheeks in a loving way. “Come on. Tell me everything.”

            “Ev-everything?”

            “Mostly everything...”

            And that’s how it went for the next twenty minutes, and based on the information he gave him (which he could tell was rather censored), it was easy to figure out what to do.

             “So, Minho-ah’s coming home Saturday,” he began, “and Saturday is also the last day of the Festival in Daehangno. Right?”

            Taemin nodded.

            “Do you think you can you get him there?”

            “You mean, can BananaLove get him there?”

            He chuckled. “Yeah.”

            “Maybe... he doesn’t really like the idea of coming out in public...”

            “But he did anyway.”

            “Not because I asked him to...”

            “But you gave him the idea...”

            Taemin looked confused. “Even if I could get him there, then what? What will seeing me change...?”

            “You’re not going to go.”

            “Wae? You mean stand him up? I couldn’t do that, hyung...”

            “No, no,” he said, patting the maknae's shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, you won’t be going as this Taemin."

             "So..."

             "Go as the girl he saw—your disguise helps, you know; he’s only thinking about you more. Even