“This is so stupid…”

Yet here he was, pacing his room in the early hours of the morning, cell phone in hand as he stared at the number on the screen. He had stared at the number enough in the past twenty minutes to have it memorized, the seven digits staring back at him, inviting.

“He’s not even going to answer…”

He pressed call, just to prove to himself that he could and no one would pick up, and held the phone up to his ear, and breathed out slowly through his nose. The phone rang once. A quick, panicked moment and then he hung up.

“This is so stupid.”

He was back to pacing, phone back in his hand. One hand on his hip, Taemin sighed down at Minho’s pixilated cell phone number on the screen as his inner debate continued; to call or not to call?

After Jonghyun had closed the window on him, it had taken Taemin a few minutes to fully process what that meant. Jonghyun hadn’t looked happy, but he didn’t look particularly sad either. He hadn’t been sarcastic when he spoke, but he hadn’t really said anythingmean. But that slam, that resounding bang had spoken enough and Taemin could still hear it if he thought about it enough. It meant rejection and that meant…

That meant Jonghyun was mad at him.

His first thought was to call Minho. Minho got into fights all the time (granted, they weren’t the same kind of fights) but Taemin would take any advice he could get. But it was past midnight, god, would Minho even answer?

His next thought was to call Jonghyun. But Jonghyun was not too happy with him so that led him back to option one.

The phone was ringing and it was pressed up against his ear. One ring in he was holding his breath and he was only halfway through the second ring before he chickened out and hung up again.

He wasn’t sure what was so difficult about calling Minho, since they were friends and all, but Minho didn’t really seem like the kind of guy who would always rush to his help, wherever he may be. And it wasn’t like it was Minho’s problem anyway. He just wanted someone to talk to.

He sighed, flopping down face first onto his bed as he groaned into a pillow, phone still in his hand, thumb still hovering over the call button. He was frustrated with himself, because really, what was so hard about making a damn phone call?

“I am so stupid.” Taemin sat up slowly, sitting on his legs as he frowned at his phone screen. Minho’s name was still there, his number scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

“ it…”

He pressed call and pushed the phone up to his ear and keeping it in place with his shoulder, sitting on his hands so he wouldn’t be tempted to slam it shut. Around the fourth ring, Taemin focused on breathing slowly. After the fifth, he was wondering what he would say if Minho did happen to pick up. After the sixth, he hoped his voice wouldn’t crack. After the seventh, he forgot why he was calling Minho in the first place. After the eighth, he started to think Minho wouldn’t pick up at all.

And halfway through the ninth ring, Taemin was halfway through a sigh and there was a click on the other side as the ringing suddenly stopped. Silence for a moment, then the intake of breath and Minho’s voice a second later, “Hello?”

Taemin shot up to his feet, although he couldn’t quite say why, and both hands went to the phone to hold it up tightly to his ear and he suddenly forgot how to properly introduce oneself while on the phone.

“… Helllloooooo? If you called with the intention to prank call me, you’re kind of failing, uh, a lot.”

For one horrified moment, Taemin thought Minho was going to hang up because he caught onto something in Minho’s voice; that wicked something that he got his nasty reputation from and he could almost see him, eyes dark and smug look on his face as he lit up a cigarette. He held onto that image, tried to imagine Minho looking amused. Finally, he got his voice to work.

“Is your refrigerator running? If so, you better go catch it.”

“Ha ha.” Minho deadpanned.

Taemin smiled and managed to not feel as nervous as he had just moments before. “You should be glad that I didn’t call you with the intention to prank call you.”

“Extremely. Who knew you were so bad at prank calls, Taemin?” There was some shuffling on the other end of the line and Minho seemed to be just a little out of breath and Taemin wondered why. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your intentions for this phone call? And don’t say it’s because you just wanted to hear my voice, because that’s a given.”

Taemin gulped, sinking back down onto his bed as he fought the blush that he knew was coming after that comment. But the sound of Minho’s voice was a bit reassuring and just talking to him seemed to push all his problems to the back of his mind (not that he would ever admit it.) “Don’t flatter yourself.” He laughed, lying down on his bed, curling onto his side and pulling his knees up to his chest. “I just needed some… advice, I guess.” He mumbled, pouting even though he knew Minho couldn’t see.

Suddenly, Minho was laughing, that contagious kind of laugh and Taemin found himself chuckling along for no good reason. “So, you’re calling me for advice?” He seemed amused, and Taemin found that he could imagine this Minho better; laughing, phone to his ear as he smiled and talked, cigarette forgotten about in his hand and smoke floating all around him.

“Yeah, basically.” Now, Taemin felt just a little embarrassed. Running to Minho with his problems probably wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Sorry, Min, but I’m not so good in the advice giving department…” Minho apologized, and the funny thing was that he honestly did sound sincere. “Can’t like, Jonghyun help you out or something? Isn’t that what best friends are supposed to do?”

Taemin frowned. “Actually…” He breathed out, breathed in. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

There was a moment of silence over the phone, save for Minho’s labored breathing and Taemin wondered for the second time just what he was doing.

“… Okay. Alright. Yeah. What street do you live on again?”

Taemin had never told Minho what street he lived on, but he found himself reciting the info anyway, only vaguely curious as to why Minho wanted to know, his mind wrapped back up in Jonghyun and whatever problem he happened to have with him.

“Okaaay. And your house number?”

“813. Wait, why?”

“No reason. I’ll talk to you in like, ten minutes, okay?”

And then the line went dead and Taemin was sitting up in bed again, staring at the phone and wondering what the hell had just happened. He glanced back at the clock. 1:43 am.

1:53 am, ten minutes later, there was something being thrown at his bedroom window and upon closer inspection Taemin was pleasantly surprised and blinking down at Minho who was standing in his front yard and had nothing with him but his cell phone and a handful of rocks.

--

Maybe it was because Taemin had called him over everyone else, or maybe it was because of some bigger reason that he had yet to fully understand that led Minho to make a detour from his own house, to Taemin’s.

It really wasn’t that far of a walk from his back alley to Taemin’s bedroom window—six minutes, maybe—but it did take Minho awhile to gather enough rocks and then decide which window was Taemin’s. It was a serious guessing game, one that could end in an embarrassing situation and/or a call to the cops. Believe it or not, some people didn’t take too kindly to having rocks thrown at their windows.

But Minho considered himself something of an expert in the art of rock throwing, and upon deciding that Taemin’s bedroom window was probably the only one with the light on, he tossed the rock – white in color, much like Taemin’s house—and it went up, and up and hit the window with a just loud enough ping and then fell back to the ground.

Taemin was blinking down at him not even a full minute later and Minho could do nothing but smile sheepishly and wave, wondering if he made a mistake. Taemin waved back, still blinking, like he couldn’t actually believe that Minho was standing outside of his house, but his brain finally caught up with him and he fumbled with his bedroom window before he managed to push it open.

He was leaning out his bedroom window, looking over his shoulder before looking back down at Minho. “What’re you doing here?” He whispered and Minho had to strain to hear him.

He shrugged in response, smiling crookedly. “Thought you said you wanted advice?” He didn’t whisper, spoke loud and clear, and Taemin was staring wide eyed at him.

“And I thought you said you didn’t give advice?” Taemin countered, voice still a whisper.

“Yeah, well, I’m here, aren’t I?” And then Taemin was grinning down at him and Minho had his head turned, glaring at nothing and crossing his arms across his chest.

“You walked to my house at one in the morning and threw rocks at my window because I wanted advice?” Maybe Taemin enjoyed embarrassing him, but Minho still refused to look at him.

Sighing, he let his handful of rocks fall to the ground and he stuck his hands in his pockets, still looking at anything other than Taemin. “Okay, yeah, I’m a hopeless romantic. We’ve established this. Are you going to let me in or should I just go home?”

Taemin was still grinning and Minho glanced up at him, then took a step backwards and made like he was going to leave when Taemin called him back.

“No, wait! You can come in. Just… I don’t think you should use the front door. We have the burglar alarm on and I don’t want to wake up my mom… Just… hey, go to the side of the house, okay?” And Taemin was pointing before he disappeared into his room and Minho made his way in the direction indicated and found himself in the space between two houses, Taemin’s on his left and a blue one on his right, and huge oak tree in the middle of the two. He noted how the branches of the tree connected perfectly from the window on Taemin’s house to the window on the blue house. He noted how Taemin’s window was open, and how the other was closed, blinds drawn. He remembered how Taemin had mentioned that he and Jonghyun were neighbors.

Before he could make any great epiphany Taemin was calling at him from the open window and it was then that he realized that Taemin expected him to climb the big tree.

“You can get in through here.” Taemin said.

“Uh. Right.”

It took a few tries, but Minho managed to swing himself up onto the lowest branch, and from that point it was easy to climb up the rest of the tree. Taemin had made himself comfortable, watching Minho from his window and looking highly amused. Minho was perched on the branch that led straight to Taemin’s window and he glared at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No.” Taemin smiled. “I just think you’re absolutely ridiculous. But that’s good.”

Minho wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he just inched closer and poked Taemin in the middle of his forehead. “I’d have to be ridiculous to drag myself out of bed just to hang with your sorry .” In all actuality, Minho hadn’t been in bed at all. He’d been in his back alley, reading and smoking, and he was on his way back to his own house when he got that call from Taemin. But what Taemin didn't know wouldn’t hurt him. “Get out of the way.”

Taemin did as he was told and took a few steps back, and Minho went feet first through the window, shirt riding up a bit and once he stood up straight and straightened out his clothes he found himself in the middle of Taemin’s duck themed bathroom and that the owner of said bathroom was staring.

“Ya want me to close this?” He gestured to the window, and Taemin nodded, still staring at a spot just above Minho’s pant line. Chuckling, he turned and pulled the window closed, pulled the blinds down.

When he turned back around, Taemin seemed to have recovered and he stood, beaming up at Minho. Minho took the chance to look around him. There was a toilet and a shower that doubled as a bathtub and a small walk in closet. There was a single sink and a counter littered with various toiletries. He was standing on a duck shaped rug and he laughed before walking past Taemin and into his actual bedroom.

The room had all the signs of a teenager. The floor was littered with dirty clothes and other things. There were a few text books, all open and paper was littered around them. The walls were artfully covered with a few movie posters, a few band posters, but not much else. The walls themselves were an off-white color. There was a desk pushed up against the wall with a lamp on and a bunch of CD’s piled haphazardly on top of it. A few pictures were pinned to the wall above the desk, and the window Minho had thrown a rock at was still open. There was a bookshelf on the opposite wall, with not much on it except for a few comic books and what looked to be children’s stories. There was a stuffed white tiger on the top of the bookshelf. The bed was pushed up against the wall next to this, the sheets tangled.

Minho made for the bed, kicked his shoes off to add to the pile of clothes and flopped down on the bed, hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, one leg hanging off the bed. “I like your room.” Minho smiled, turning to glance at Taemin, who looked a bit embarrassed as he quickly kicked the majority of his dirty clothes into the bathroom before closing the door.

“Sorry it’s so messy. I really wasn’t expecting you to come over. At all.” Taemin said, still picking up a few articles of clothing that were hanging off of his desk.

Minho frowned, eyes flicking back up to the ceiling. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No. Of course not!” Taemin was smiling, satisfied with his quick clean up and sitting on the edge of his bed, Minho’s foot brushing against his hip. He was still a bit in awe that Minho had actually shown up at his house just because he had called, never mind the fact that it was almost two in the morning.

“You should be thankful.” Minho lectured, smirking as he sat up, digging in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. “I’m pretty ing nice, coming out here like this. So what is it that you need my expert advice on?” He spoke around his cigarette, producing a lighter a second later and lighting up.

“Hey! Don’t smoke in here. If my mom caught you, she’d be pissed.” Taemin pulled his legs up onto the bed too, pouting as he crinkled his nose at all the smoke.

“Just tell her your friends are crazy pyros. Now stop changing the subject.” Minho already had a vague idea at what had happened.

Taemin sighed, biting his bottom lip and twirling a piece of hair around his finger. He glanced up at Minho, who looked dead serious. There was no backing out now. “Well… I think Jonghyun is mad at me.”

Minho waited for more, but when nothing else came, he took his cigarette out of his mouth, eyebrows furrowing together, “That’s it?”

Taemin groaned, flopping face forward onto a pillow, arms flopping out on either side of him, one hanging off the edge of the bed and the other halfway across Minho’s lap. Taemin didn’t care enough to move it. “Yes. That’s it. And it’s a pretty big deal. I’ve never been in a fight with him before. I mean, I don’t think I’ve been in a fight with anyone before.”

“Not true.” Minho had the cigarette back in his mouth. “You got into a fight with those seniors in my bathroom the other day.”

Taemin sighed again, voice muffled by the pillow. “I haven’t gotten into a fight with my friends before. All of this is completely new to me and I don’t know how to handle it. So yeah. It’s a big deal.”

“Huh.” Minho leaned back, stretching his legs out and he rested his head against the wall. “Did he say what he was mad about?” He took a long pull on the cigarette and attempted to blow smoke rings.

There was silence and it seemed like Taemin wasn’t going to answer, but Minho nudged his with his foot and Taemin finally picked his head up from the pillow, hair mused and cheeks slightly flushed as he propped himself up by the elbows and looked a bit sad. “He said… well, he didn’t really say it, but I think what he meant was that I’ve been ignoring him, and so now he’s ignoring me too.”

Minho didn’t say anything, just smoked and looked at him from the corner of his eye, waiting for him to finish. Taemin looked a bit uncomfortable as he collected his thoughts, keeping his gaze down and absentmindedly playing with a few loose threads in Minho’s ripped jeans. His fingers would occasionally brush across bare skin, but Taemin didn’t say anything, so Minho just kept smoking and trying to blow smoke rings, which was more difficult than it had any right to be. Minho had long since given up on trying to make perfect smoke rings, and the cigarette was hanging lazily from his mouth when Taemin spoke up again.

“He said I didn’t make an effort to see him, or talk to him, or whatever, outside of school and he…” He sighed, head going back into the pillow before he looked up again, and it took a moment for Minho to remember what Taemin was talking about. “I don’t know. We talk a lot but we don’t ever really talk, ya know? And it just seems weird that all of a sudden he’s all concerned about hanging out and who I'm hanging out with.”

Taemin wiggled in spot for a second, cheeks puffing up as he thought about Jonghyun’s parting words. “And I think,” Here, he paused, his lips as he looked up at Minho. “I think he’s blaming you. Like, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t think Jonghyun would care if I was hanging out with anyone else.. But it’s not anyone else. It’s you.”

“Ahh,” Minho said wisely, placing his smoked cigarette on an empty space on the bookshelf. He took a second to wet his lips and to get himself comfortable, resting his hands behind his head as he leaned against the wall. He thought real long and hard at all the information Taemin had just fed him and didn’t quite know where that left him. So he said the first thing that came to mind.

“It seems like he’s a bit jealous, don’t you think?” Minho in all actuality didn’t know. He just tried to think like Onew did, which was hard because he wasn’t really sure what made Onew tick. Jonghyun might just be concerned that before the school year was out, Minho would turn Taemin into a smoking, bathroom loving, delinquent. Maybe Jonghyun was someone who always needed his friends around him. Maybe Jonghyun hated Minho. Or maybe Jonghyun really was jealous. He just didn’t know.

“You really think so?” Taemin was looking up at him with wide eyes, like Minho had all the answers in the world. And Minho probably would have all the answers, if smoke molecules and cigarette butts could talk.

“I think you should talk to him.” He replied, stretching his arms up above his head. “Verbal communication can be good for some things. Not all things, but some things.”

Taemin puffed out his cheeks, staring up at a spot just above Minho’s head. He breathed out slowly, glancing at the clock. 2:22 am. “Yeah, I guess I can talk to him…” He yawned, settling his head back down on the pillow, hand lazily going up to poke at Minho’s arm. “It’s late. And school’s tomorrow. You should probably get home.”

“I probably should.” But Minho made no move to leave. In fact, Minho looked pretty comfortable. Taemin sat up, blinking as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Do… do you want to stay here?” He ventured, head tilting to the side.

“Kinda.” Minho smirked.

A million responses went through Taemin’s head. Really, he should’ve made Minho leave right then so he could have some time to think before he slept. But instead, he stood up. “Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Do you want to sleep on the bed?” He was walking around his room, disappearing into his bathroom for a moment in search of his pajamas.

“I do.” Minho responded, emptying out his jacket pockets—just his wallet, a lighter, and two packs of cigarettes—before shrugging it off and tossing it on the floor with his shoes. He placed his belongings on the bookshelf.

Taemin came back a moment later, changed from jeans to a pair of flannel pajama pants. “I can sleep on the floor, then.” He smiled as he neared the bed, reaching over Minho to grab one of the three pillows. Minho caught his wrist, and Taemin nearly squeaked at the contact.

He froze, flushing as he looked right at Minho and noted how their noses were almost touching and how Minho’s eyes sparkled with some kind of wicked amusement and Taemin wasn’t sure what to think of that. He gulped, focused on breathing and keeping his eyes on Minho’s. “….Y-yeah?”

Minho slowly let go of him. “Well, since I’m here to dish out advice, I advise you to not sleep on the floor.”

Even though Minho had let go of him, Taemin still didn’t move, just blushed and let his hand fall onto the bed on the other side of Minho. “O-oh…. Why’s that?”

Minho was smirking, head tilting slightly and Taemin thought for sure that Minho was going to kiss him. But
he didn’t, and Taemin couldn’t decide if the rapid beating of his heart was a good or bad thing or why he thought that in the first place.

“Because sleeping on the floor isn’t comfortable. So you should sleep up here, with me. But again, this is only a suggestion.” Minho was oozing confidence and while he gave Taemin an option, there was that look in Minho’s eye that didn’t leave no for an answer.

So Taemin nodded, just close enough that he could have kissed him if he really wanted to. And he hovered there for a moment longer than he should have before he backed off and he wondered if Minho knew what he was thinking with that knowing smirk of his. He moved back to his desk where the lamp was and flicked the switch. He stood there for a moment, blinking his eyes in the sudden darkness, before he moved slowly back to his bed, standing at the edge before slowly settling himself down on the end.

But Minho didn’t seem to be having any of that and his fingers were locking around Taemin’s wrist again and pulling him towards him. Minho’s fingers were the perfect length and Taemin’s wrist the perfect size, and now that Taemin was pulled up against him on the bed, Minho didn’t let go.

Taemin made some strange whimpering sound, reaching down with his free hand to grab the blankets and to wrap them around them, snuggling just a bit closer to Minho, his forehead only an inch or so from resting on Minho’s chest.

He stayed completely still, not wanting to be closer, not wanting to make anyone more uncomfortable than they already were, but after a minute or so, he thought, screw it, and fully relaxed against Minho. Minho’s perfect length fingers were tracing shapes onto his perfectly sized wrist and he breathed out a happy sigh.

Tilting his chin up, he could almost make out Minho in the darkness, but that was probably thanks to their close proximity. Minho shifted and Taemin’s free hand ended up curling into Minho’s shirt, their legs tangling, but Taemin didn’t have time to worry about that because thanks to Minho’s little maneuver, the tips of their noses were rubbing and Taemin couldn’t help the short intake of breath at the contact.

“Are you okay?” Minho whispered, and Taemin could feel his lips move when he talked. He closed his eyes and in a shaky little voice, replied, “Yeah. I’m just sleepy, is all.”

“Then go to sleep…” and Minho nuzzled closer and Taemin could feel his lips on the edge of his mouth and when it seemed that Minho wasn’t going to move or do anything about it, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Taemin thought, screw it, and tilted his head until their lips meshed perfectly together and his heart was beating so fast and so loud that he was sure Minho could hear it and then he would laugh at him or push him away or leave him here all alone and that would have been the worst.

There was a frightening moment, when nothing was happening, and Taemin felt like he might just burst into tears if Minho didn’t do something. The least he could do was push him away, save them both the embarrassment.

But Minho didn’t, instead, Minho reached up and cupped his face in his hands and pressed closer to him, forcing Taemin’s lips open as he kissed him. And Taemin made a content humming noise as he let Minho take control, because Taemin had never been kissed like this before, or been kissed at all, for that matter and that thought made him feel slightly giddy. He was having his first kiss with Minho – the Minho—and there were in his bed and wow, just wow.

For a moment, he didn’t do anything, just felt Minho’s hands on his neck and shoulder and memorized the feel of his lips on his own. Satisfied, Taemin tugged just a little bit harder at Minho’s shirt and he could feel Minho smiling and he whimpered when Minho pulled away, craning his neck up to follow him because he wasn’t done, god damn it.

Taemin let go of his shirt, hand going up to rest in Minho’s hair as he pulled him back down and the second time their lips met it was a bit sloppier than the first time, because this time Taemin missed, but not by much and he wasn’t at all put out by his mistake, just turned his head till he was back at the softness that was Minho’s lips. Minho was still smiling and that made Taemin smile, and Minho’s hand was resting at the small of his back, and Taemin wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he just kept them in Minho’s hair.

And then Minho did something that he wasn’t really expecting; he was just getting used to this, the give and the take, the pushing and the pressing and the satisfying smacking sound that came with it when Minho along Taemin’s bottom lip, causing him to gasp and pull at Minho’s hair and his toes to curl up in his socks.

Minho was smiling again and Taemin was a shaking mess of hormones. Minho gave him one last slow kiss before he pulled away and this time Taemin didn’t try for more, just leaned forward till his head was resting in the crook of Minho’s neck and closed his eyes as Minho rubbed slow and reassuring circles at his back.

It was quiet after that, just Minho breathing and Taemin is trying to restart his brain because he just had a make out session with Minho on his bed. He was probably dreaming. Had to be, since how did he even get in this situation? But Minho felt more than real and those kisses had definitely felt real and even though he had enjoyed it, he was still trying to find an excuse as to why he did it in the first place.

Taemin’s broke the silence, finally finding a reason, his voice quiet and surprisingly not shaky, “Sorry my bed is so small.”

Minho laughed, and Taemin could hear the sound rumble from his chest. “I kind of like it.”

--

Morning was an interesting experience. When his alarm clock went off, Taemin wanted nothing more than to just press snooze and keep sleeping because Minho was warm and Minho was cuddly and holy , he hadn’t been dreaming last night.

Sometime after he realized that, he had accidentally pushed Minho out of his bed and Minho had started cursing beautifully and Taemin felt sorry right afterwards. So he helped him up and then after a moment of standing around awkwardly, he hugged him to say sorry. After last night, he wasn’t quite sure what their new boundaries were, but he figured a hug would be the safest route.

After that, Taemin had a moment to freak out because his mom was downstairs and didn’t know that Minho had decided to sleep over, (in fact, she probably wasn’t even aware of Minho’s existence) so Taemin helped Minho sneak out of the bathroom window, and kept watch for him as Minho flashed a peace sign and took off down the street. Where he was going, Taemin wasn’t sure.

He took a moment to breathe, fingers shaky as he got ready for school. Last night had been an experience, to say the least. The first and most major thing on his mind was Minho, but he didn’t want to spend much time thinking about that particular topic. The second thing on his mind was Jonghyun, which was just as touchy as the Minho topic, and now Taemin wanted all of last nights events to be nothing more than a dream.

But when he walked downstairs, said good bye to his mom (who didn’t suspect anything) he was face to face with disappointing reality when it became apparent that Jonghyun wasn’t waiting for him at the end of the driveway. He half expected to see Minho melt out of the shadows, like he had last night, but no. There was no one.

More confused than ever, he walked to school alone.