The next day, Taemin walked out of his house, lightly poking at the bruise on his chin. As expected, his mom had freaked out when she saw, and had given him a disbelieving look when he fed her his locker excuse. Good thing there wouldn't be another fight today. He had turned in this pictures to the principal yesterday. After all, the word was already out that he had them, so he might as well done something with them.

Half way down his driveway, he paused, glancing up at the figure standing at the end. Jonghyun was back. Shrugging, he met up with him. “Missed ya at school yesterday.” He greeted, falling into step beside the senior. He had better have a good excuse.

“Sorry, man. Sick.” And he was smiling as he ruffled Taemin’s hair in apology. Taemin resisted a pout. Not good enough.

“Hey, what happened to your face?”

Taemin glanced up out of the corner of his eye, noting the subject change as he slowly let out a puff of air. “Gee, thanks.” He made sure to include the eye roll and sideways smirk.

Jonghyun laughed, nudging Taemin on the shoulder slightly. “No, seriously. You didn’t get into a fight did, ya?”

How come every one automatically thought that? Okay, so maybe he really had gotten into a fight, but it wasn’t serious, thanks to Minho. But did he really seem like the kind of guy to get into a fight? Apparently so. And as far as he knew, it was Jonghyun that caused him to get in a fight, anyway.

Taemin just smiled lightly, forcing out a few quick laughs. “Hah, no. Just hit my head against my locker, no big deal.”

Jonghyun blinked, before shrugging, and changed the subject by complaining about how much make up work he must have after missing a day.

Jonghyun might not have believed him, but at least he didn’t question him. Taemin thought that because of that, he really was his best friend.

--

Onew and Gym class had never really gotten along, so he had decided to join Minho in his bathroom that day and had taken residency at his usual spot, which was on the counter, coincidentally right next to the sink that Minho had pushed that kid into yesterday. He was letting his legs swing back in forth, blowing a bubble with his gum as he shifted through pictures on a digital camera. Minho was leaned up against the wall opposite him, cigarette burning and whatever book he needed to be reading for his literature class open in his hand, eyes gazing over the words but not actually reading. He wasn’t even really sure what the book was about. He had lost interest sometime around page three.

From his spot, Onew laughed at whatever had shown up on the screen and Minho looked up at the noise, finally giving up on the book he wasn’t actually reading and tossed it back in the pile that was his backpack. “What’re you looking at?”

Onew scooted over slightly, pressing himself up against the wall so Minho would have room to come sit beside him. “Pictures from Jin’s party last weekend.”

Minho nodded, remembering as he settled himself next to Onew, looking over his shoulder at the pics, cigarette settled between his lips. Jin had thrown a party over at her place last weekend. Some end of summer thing, even though school had started two weeks before the party even happened. Minho didn’t go to parties very often, preferring to do his own thing within his smaller crowd, but Onew had managed to drag him to this one.

He glanced idly at the pictures as they zoomed by, Onew somehow able to point out who was who in the pictures even at the high speeds he was scrolling through them at. How was it that Onew seemed to know everybody?

“Slow down, you’re giving me a headache.” He commented, nudging him with his elbow. Onew made a face, but slowed down as about fifty pictures of girls in bikinis came up. Onew rattled off the names of each one, sometimes adding comments about their choice in swimwear.

Minho zoned out, nodding his head occasionally. He hardly recognized any of these faces. He leaned his head back and his gaze shifted to the ceiling, occasionally stealing glances at Onew and whatever happened to be on the screen. Just nameless girls and… huh?

“Wait, go back.”

Onew paused with his hand over the buttons, going back like requested to a picture of two girls that Minho recognized vaguely from being in his class. They were smiling, hair still damp from being in the pool and one was still dripping like she had just gotten out of the water before the picture was taken. But in between the two girls was a kid, someone who looked small and innocent, eyes still a little wide, face still a little young, and he was laughing, frozen in time. One of the girls was pushing him toward the other, and he was struggling, probably because he didn’t want to get his clothes wet.

Minho took the camera from Onew and flicked to the next one. The girl had a hold of the kid and was pulling him back towards the pool. He was still smiling, the other girl cheering them on. The next picture was something of the same nature, except the other girl had joined in to try and get the kid pushed into the pool. It must have worked, because in the next picture he was soaking wet and fully clothed, hair sticking to his face as he stood in the pool, one of the girls’ arms around his shoulders as they smiled for the picture.

That was the last one with him in it and Minho sat and stared at it, eyebrows stitching together as he studied them. Onew tried to look over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. “What is it? Found something you like?” His voice had a suggestive tilt to it.

Minho ignored him, instead showing the picture of the kid standing in the pool. “That’s him. That’s the kid.”

Onew blinked, and pointed. “You mean Jonghyun’s kid?”

So, this kid was Jonghyun’s faithful friend? It took Minho a minute to remember who Jonghyun was—kinda short, kinda cocky, extremely talented, and of course, nothing without his friends. Minho nearly smacked himself at the realization.

“Oh . He hangs with Jonghyun, then that means he knows Key.” Minho groaned, slumping back against the mirror. Key had been his science partner the past two years and learned quickly that it is impossible to get him to shut up. But Key had been full of good advice, seeing as how he would always tell Minho to wear more red, he just looked so dashing in red. People who described other people as dashing were people Minho would rather not be associated with.

But he couldn’t just ignore Key, either. Dealing with him was a tricky business that involved just a small amount of attention and a heavy dose of cold shoulder.

Regardless, Minho always made it a habit of his to make sure he skipped out on science.

Onew chuckled slightly. “He’s not much like Key, though. I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s a nice kid. Smart, too. Girls like him.”

“Older girls.” Minho noted, judging from the pictures. “Lucky bastard…” Minho’s teenage girl fanclub consisted of fourteen year old fangirls, which got old after the tenth one stuffed some cheesy love note in his locker. He thought he had left that back in junior high. But it was freshman he was dealing with here.

“He’s a freshman, but he seems more mature than Jonghyun sometimes.” Onew mused, taking his camera back. He took one last look at the picture before turning off the camera and stuffing it back into his backpack. “I’ll be sure to print off copies for you. Later.” And with a cheeky grin Onew was gone, leaving Minho to try and get himself out of the sink he had fallen into after that comment. What the hell was that supposed to mean, anyway?

Once he picked himself out of the sink, cursing Onew under his breath, he stalked back to his stall, tossing his half burnt cigarette into the toilet, the hiss it made as it extinguished mimicking the one Minho made as he realized that he, once again, forget to find out that kids name.

--

There was a spot just a little ways away from the abandoned park and somewhere not quite under the overpass. The walls were covered in grime and graffiti and the floor was caked with dirt, but it had a homey feel to it. There was a dusty couch pushed up against a wall, sad and sagging with the stuffing almost gone from years of use. A few more chairs in varying states of distress were scattered about. Wooden beams were laid over the top connecting the two rooftops and allowed the sunlight to filter through in small square patterns. It was here that Minho liked to call home.

He could usually be found sprawled out on the couch, scowl in place as he stared up at the sky through the beams, tossing a ball up and catching it in a rhythm. Up, down, up, down, up down…. Sometimes he’d let it hit the beams and let the ball come back down and hit him in the stomach before rolling away, forgotten.

He was in the middle of his up down rhythm when Onew found him. He walked in and leaned against the wall opposite the sagging couch, shoulders placed right between hardly legible graffiti scrawl and the beginning of some abstract drawing that no one could ever really figure out what it’s supposed to be.

“I got worried when I couldn’t find you in your bathroom.” Onew began, eyes trained on Minho’s face. “Should’ve known you’d be skipping to come here.” When there was so response, Onew took to looking at the dirty walls, small pout in place. “I don’t know why you like it here so much. It’s gross.”

Minho’s scowl deepened at that comment. “It’s private. Not gross.” He hissed. This was his spot, and much like the bathroom, no one ever came by here. Even Onew liked to skip out, finding the graffiti on the walls nothing but offensive. Sometimes Minho’s “gang” members would stop by, but he’d end up ignoring them. They were only there for show, anyway. Just there to prove to others that they had hung out with Minho—the Minho—and hadn’t gotten a broken nose out of the deal. Minho never understood what that was about, but figured as long as they never tried to talk to him they could do whatever they wanted.

“No, it’s gross.” Onew continued, curling his nose up in disgust at a pile of trash on the floor. “If you’re going to hang out in here all the time, you should clean it up.”

Minho just shrugged, letting the ball hit the beams of the ceiling and roll away.

Onew followed the ball for a moment, staring as it disappeared behind a pile of old newspapers. After a moment of staring and listening to a few airy sighs coming from the couch, Onew stalked over, leaning over slightly too properly glare at his friend who was being a bit more pathetic than usual. “Seriously Minho. Stop sulking.”

“Sulking?” Minho bit back a little too fast, voice a little too high. “Who says I’m sulking? I’m not sulking. What is there to sulk about, anyway?”

Onew made a face like Minho has just proved his point. “You’re sulking. And you’ve been sulking ever since Taemin came along. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Minho had a reply ready, a quick witty comeback that involved him storming right out of his spot and straight back to school where he would probably go to sulk—er, contemplate—in his bathroom and then beat the crap out of the next unfortunate person to walk in. But he only got as far as his shoulders tensing up, letting his mouth hang open in the start of his tirade before he realized something wrong. Words left him and his glare lost bit of its edge because Minho just realized something completely wrong with what Onew had just said.

He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing thickly as he let out a slow breath through his teeth. Relaxing his shoulders, he sunk back down into the thin cushions of the old couch, and cocking his head to the side slightly he repeated, “…Taemin?”

Onew was a bit taken back at the name, blinking rapidly as he fought to catch up with what Minho was talking about. Realization dawned on him when Minho’s expression didn’t relent and the name hung between them, Minho raising an eyebrow as he waited. Did he honestly not know?

Onew sighed, shaking his head and rubbing a hand through his hair (“For Christ’s sake Minho”) He glanced back at Minho, back to the graffiti covered wall, and back to Minho again before settling on staring at the newspaper pile where the ball had disappeared, watching as the breeze ruffled the pages, the ends scraping along the dirty floor and the first of the fallen leaves floating across the ground, indicating that fall was just around the corner.

“How could you not even know what his name is? Are you really that dense?” Onew finally looked over at Minho, who had taken to staring back up at beams, glaring at nothing. “Then again, I forget who I’m dealing with here. I’m surprised you can even remember where you live, what with hanging out here all the time.”

“Shut up. It’s not like he introduced himself or anything.” Minho spoke up, voice still a little whiny. “But he knew who I was.”

“Everyone knows who you are.”

“No, no, that’s not the point.” He shook his head, foot tapping restlessly on the arm rest of the couch, propping his head up on an elbow as he transferred from biting his lip to glancing at Onew from the corner of his eye. “It’s just that—ahh crap, I don’t even know what I mean.” With one last rough kick to the arm rest, he crossed his arms across his chest, fuming silently.

“Uh-huh. Didn’t I tell you not to get involved?” Onew spoke slowly, calculating, trying to see if he could figure out just what Minho was freaking out about.

“It was kind of hard not to.” He grumbled. “That Taemin kid is more trouble than he’s worth.”

And then Minho went off on his long awaited rant, letting off all his steam that had been boiling up and over for the past day. He complained about Taemin, about Onew, and about the school body in general and as he repeated once again just how annoying the whole Taemin situation was and how it shouldn’t have even been this big of a deal. Onew’s mental gears were churning, whirling and working as a thought started and grew. Grew and made so much sense and only seemed to fit the more Minho talked. A slow smile spread across his face as he finally realized exactly what Minho’s problem was.

Minho was in the middle of retelling the story of the whole bathroom incident when Onew straightened up, smug smirk still in place as he took in a breath, Minho oblivious as he continued his story, gesturing at the world in general.

“—and he was just sitting there laughing his off like I just told the greatest joke in the world and it just—“

“You like him.”

“—it was so frickin annoying how he just like, thought we were friends….” But suddenly Minho trailed off, finally catching Onew’s words, finally letting them sink in as he slowly sat up. It was silent for a moment as Minho stared, not really glaring, but not looking very happy either. “I… what?”

Onew figured he was either digging his own grave or was going to give Minho a rather unpleasant shock. But a shock might be good for him, and it might not be so unpleasant, and it was that thought that made him repeat himself, with a bit more feeling, voice a little more confident because he must have struck a nerve somewhere. “You like him.”

Minho blinked. Once. Twice. He frowned.

Rocking back on his heels slightly, Onew repeated himself again. “Face it. You like him. You won’t shut up about him. Seriously, you’re acting like a twelve year old girl with a crush.” He smiled widely as Minho’s expression changed from confusion, to anger, and then back to confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hissed, hands curling into fists as he clutched the couch cushion, but it lost some of his bite, because his scowl looked more like a pout than anything and his voice cracked somewhere in the middle of all that like he really was twelve and struggling with puberty all over again.

“It’s perfectly normal. Everyone gets curious at some point.” Onew continued wisely, pacing back and forth along the length of the couch, twirling his finger as he spoke. “Even the infamous Minho.” He glanced back at him, still motionless on the couch, face still somewhere in between being furious and questioning.

Minho, in his own insignificant little corner of the universe, had drowned out Onew completely. What was Onew even saying? He’d never even spoken to the kid. Okay, so he’d talked to him once, but that hardly counted as a conversation. He hadn’t even known his name till five minutes ago and up until this point he had thought of the kid as nothing but an annoying little freshman. It wasn’t possible for Minho to like him.

That’s it. Onew had finally gone crazy.

Regardless, it took awhile for him to get his voice working again. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you.” He growled, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he finally picked himself off of the couch, collecting his ripped and tearing backpack from its spot in the corner. “I’m going back to school.”

Onew stopped pacing. “Dude. Why?” He sprinted after him, genuinely concerned. Minho? Going back to school? Willingly? “Was it something I said?”

And despite the current mental hurricane Minho was going through because of what Onew had said, that caused him to smile, a slight quirk of the lips. “Of course not.”

--

It had been a frighteningly normal day now that Jonghyun was back. He didn’t ask Taemin anymore questions, and neither did Taemin. He went to class, as normal, went to lunch, as normal, and hung around Jonghyun, as normal. At least he didn’t have to worry about the three bullies from yesterday.

Completely ordinary. Outrageously normal. Plain boring.

But why shouldn’t it have been? It wasn’t like anything had happened yesterday. No, no, something had to have happened… why else could he not stop thinking about it?

At lunch, Key told him the news he had been waiting to hear all day. As soon as Taemin and Jonghyun had sat at their table, Key’s voice was hushed and his eyes lowered as he told the long and complicated tale of how three of the schools all star football players had been suspended because they were busted with drugs, alcohol, hookers, ography, and an array of other unmentionables.

Somehow the simply story had evolved into this. The rumors that were floating around now made the look innocent. Taemin smiled to himself, poking lightly at his bruise, feeling a bit smug for knowing what really happened. He paid close attention to Jonghyun, whose face remained blank the whole time Key spoke.

When Key started talking about his weekend plans was when Taemin tuned out and his ordinary boring day continued.

His normal and boring day, however, quickly ended when the final bell rang and he walked out of school to start his trek home.

Now, most people who attended Blue Meadows High School would agree that walking out of school and seeing Minho—the Minho—standing there, scanning through the crowds of students and looking generally unhappy with the world wasn’t a good thing and getting home as fast as possible was probably the best course of action. No one wanted to stick around and see if they were the one he was looking for.

He was leaned up against the wall, cigarette hanging lazily between his lips and hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets. Students flowed around him, staying a good ten feet away from him and speeding up their walk whenever they had to pass directly in front of him, keeping their heads down and tripping over each other in their haste. (Except for a majority of the freshman girls, who lingered closer than others dared, casting him dreamy looks before running off with their friends, giggling and whispering) Even the teachers seemed to hover uncertainly, giving each other knowing glances, as if debating telepathically who would have to go and tell him that smoking on school property was against the rules.

Minho himself didn’t seem at all surprised by the behavior, like all of this was perfectly normal and smoking on the school grounds and ultimately looking like a bad while the majority of the student body cowered in fear was the only thing he could possibly be doing at this moment.

Jonghyun found Taemin standing and staring. “Hey man. Ready to go?”

“Oh, uh… hi. Uh… go ahead and leave without me. I got something to do real quick.” He murmured in reply, breaking out of the stream of students, leaving Jonghyun sufficiently shocked, and headed straight to where Minho was standing. He wasn’t exactly sure why he did this, just thought that maybe someone should stop staring and treat him like a normal human being.

The student body seemed to stop completely, everyone forgetting their earlier rush to get home, whispers breaking out as they waited to see what would happen now. Even the teachers had stopped to watch.

But Minho didn’t even look up at Taemin’s approached, just kept looking forward.

Taemin stopped a foot or so away from him, glancing up. “Who’re you looking for?”

There was no answer. Minho just slid down to sit on the ground, elbows propped up on his knees as he finally seemed to acknowledge Taemin’s presence by glancing up and holding out a small rectangular box. “Cig?”

“No thanks.” Taemin took it as an invitation to sit down beside him. He made sure to keep a good distance between them.

Minho took his own cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it in front of him, grinding it out with the heel of his foot before gesturing to the crowd of people. “They’re ridiculous, aren’t they?”

Seeing that no fight was going to break out, students began moving again, losing interest. Now that Minho had put out his cigarette, the teachers scurried away, pretending they hadn’t seen anything. Taemin noticed a group of the freshman girls glaring, probably plotting out his death just for talking to Minho, while some of them stared longingly.

Taemin shrugged, leaning his head up against the wall. “I don’t think so. I think they’re all curious.”

“Curious?” He echoed. “About what?”

He shrugged again, looking away from the crowd before he could spot Jonghyun. “About you, I guess. There are a lot of rumors about you floating around. Do you really do half of that stuff?”

It was Minho’s turn to shrug. “If you want to believe it, then it’s probably true.”

“I don’t want to believe some of it.” He admitted.

“Then it’s not true.” Minho turned to look at him and Taemin was a bit surprised to find him smiling, and he didn’t look so angry anymore. Suddenly, Taemin didn’t think that any of those rumors could be true. “It’s as simple as that.”

And then Minho was standing up, grabbing onto Taemin’s elbow and hosting him up right along with him. “C’mon Taemin. Let’s go.” With one last little half smile, he turned and started walking away, away from the school and the still gawking student body and down the street, with all the confidence in the world that Taemin would follow.

And after just a second of hesitation, he did, falling right in step behind him.