Minho groaned as he covered his face. Taemin sighed. Two cups of Taemin's mother's instant brew coffee sat in front of them, cooling slowly. The papers lay sprawled across the table as Taemin tried again to explain iambic pentameter for the second. Hour. In. A. Row.

"Five strong syllables, five weak syllables," Taemin said again. Minho sighed as he looked at the ceiling, with its bad paint job and minuscule cracks in the plaster. He hated how Taemin was talking to him like he was stupid.

"I get the ing syllable part!" Minho shouted, unreasonably loud. He just hated being bested, and by a ing no less! He tightened his fist and then jammed his finger onto the page. "How can you even make the word 'childish' fit into that? The line would be 'FROM love's WEAK chiLDish BOW she LIVES unHARM'D.' SIX strong syllables!"

"In this play, 'child' is one syllable," Taemin tried to explain. "I know it doesn't make sense, but just go along with it. It's actually a great system. Really." Minho sighed and smacked his head. Taemin sighed too, trying to keep calm. Finally, he grabbed a blank sheet of paper and started scrawling. Minho looked over.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he blinked curiously. Taemin sighed as the words took form under his pencil. Iambic pentameter was not about to defeat him!

"I hate fags, the freaks of the world they are.

God, I wish I could throw them so far,

They'd leave this world and land on Jupiter.

And die the painful death they all deserve," Taemin read, showing Minho the poem. "See? 'I,' 'fags,' 'freaks,' 'the,' and 'they' are all strong syllables."

"Oh," Minho said. Now that it was in actual English, he could see where the syllables would lie. He looked at Taemin with begrudging gratitude and more questions in his eyes. "But no one really talks like that, right?"

"No, that's why it's called 'theater.' It's not real life," Taemin said. He looked down at the poem and read it again. "I hate FAGS, the FREAKS of THE world THEY are," he said, throwing his arms dramatically into the air. Minho couldn't hold back a laugh at how weird Taemin sounded.

"You're such a geek!" he said, but his voice was different. Without his meaning to, he had said it in a way that was friendly, and Taemin grinned at the tone.

"Yah, that's Mr. Geek to you," he said in a faux-stern way. Minho only laughed harder, and Taemin burst into a fit of giggles. They laughed for a few seconds before suddenly realizing what they were doing. They froze and cleared their throats, looking away from each other. Minho felt anger rise to his throat. How could he laugh with a ? How?!

Taemin's cheeks got red. He was enjoying Minho's company! No, he hated Minho! That was the only reason he wanted Minho to be attracted to him. To turn Minho gay. To end Minho's life as he knew it! That was out of hatred, damn it!

They both found the composure to look at each other at the same time, but Minho acted first, and he turned just quickly enough to see something weird peeking out of Taemin's collar. He reached over and touched it.

"Is that... A hickey?" he asked, disgust flowing from his stomach to every piece of his body. Taemin brushed Minho's hand away calmly, skillfully hiding the truth.

"It's a rash," he said. "My mom was doing poison ivy stuff for some article and she accidentally left some leaves in my pillow. It doesn't itch, but my skin still turns red." He said it so calmly that Minho couldn't find it in himself to disbelieve Taemin. Inside, Taemin took a breath of relief. If Minho found out that they'd slept together, it could be dangerous for Taemin, especially if Minho's psyche split.

"Where are your parents?" Minho asked as he sipped coffee. Taemin sighed and took a gulp of his own drink.

"My dad's probably not coming home tonight. He had to go on a business trip. My mom's in the city, researching for her new article, so she'll be out," Taemin said. "What about your parents?" He was careful not to let Minho know that he knew about the divorce. That would cause suspicions to arise.

"My mom's... Somewhere," Minho said, shrugging. Taemin observed that there was an emotional distance between mother and son. Taemin was willing to bet that Minho treated women similarly to how he treated gays: as objects. "My dad's working late at the office on a case."

"What law does he practice?" Taemin asked. Minho's eyebrow jumped up.

"How did you know he was a lawyer? He could've been a police officer," Minho said. Taemin smirked and looked at the swirls in his coffee.

"If he was a cop, you would've probably said 'station,'" Taemin pointed out. Minho couldn't help but be a little (just a little, mind you) impressed.

"Ge's a divorce lawyer," Minho said slowly. Then, he chuckled. "You're like Sherlock Holmes," he observed, drinking some more coffee. Taemin couldn't help but laugh, just a little. Why was this happening?

"Sherlock Holmes was a genius, but also a crack addict," he said, setting down his cup. "He was mentioned as using in the second novel, 'The Sign of Four,' much to the disapproval of Doctor Watson." He noticed Minho's blank stare. "I've read all the books," he explained.

"I've read none. I saw the Robert Downey Junior film," Minho replied, as if that substituted at all for reading the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Taemin laughed again, this time a little longer.

"That film was an affront to the books," Taemin stated firmly. "The only accurate parts were the fact that Holmes was a fighter, also proven in 'The Sign of Four,' and his deductive reasoning, and even that's questionable."

"What about Watson's fiancé? Did she exist?" Minho asked, thoroughly enthralled. He couldn't help it. There was something about Taemin's passion that was just alluring.

"Yeah, but she was an heiress who lost her whole fortune because her father's friend stole a treasure and..." Taemin trailed off with a sigh. "Basically, she existed, but she wasn't the same person."

"Did the film mess up that badly?" Minho asked with a chuckle as he unthinkingly leaned closer. Taemin didn't seem to notice as he let out a sigh and slumped against the couch.

"Yeah, a lot of movies do. It's like the film version of 'Great Expectations.' That ending was completely messed up. Pip never—" Taemin was cut off by Minho clapping his hands onto his own ears.

"Don't ruin the ending for me!" Minho whined. "I haven't seen it yet." Taemin laughed at the sight and shook his head, grinning.

"Like you'll ever watch it... Or read the book," he said. Minho lowered his hands and thought about it before shrugging. Taemin chuckled.

"That's true. Proceed," Minho said curtly.

"In the original ending, Pip meets Estella and they walk away together and it's very calm and ambiguous and so perfect, but in the film, he passionately declares his love for her and it's all mushy and everything," Taemin said, sticking out his tongue in disgust. Minho laughed.

"You talk about this stuff like—" Minho was cut off by a bolt of lightening and a loud crack of thunder. Then, the drumming of rain against the roof started, and Minho cursed as he ran to the window. "!"

"What?" Taemin asked, getting up an walking to the window as well. He stood next to Minho, neither of them noticing their proximity as they watched the rain come down. Minho sighed.

"My car. It doesn't do well in the rain. The tires skid too much on water," he said, his voice defeated. Taemin bit his lip with pity. "I can't get home until this ing rain stops, which could be all night."

"If my mom didn't take the car, I'd probably let you borrow it," Taemin said sincerely. Minho sighed as he looked out of he window hopelessly at the rain.

"You'd do that?" he asked. Even hypothetically, it was a nice gesture. Taemin shrugged as he leaned his head against the window's cold glass and let the raindrops send dappled light onto his face.

"Yeah, sure, why n—" He cut himself off as his gaze met with Minho's. Suddenly, their identities came rushing back to them. They had forgotten themselves, gotten too close, talked too much. The jock and the . The bully and the victim. Just moments ago, they'd almost been... Friends.

"I have to go," Minho said, turning and walking away briskly. Taemin didn't try to stop him. It was simpler if Minho left. He wouldn't have to ask himself why he'd felt so comfortable talking with Minho, why they'd laughed together—together—as if they didn't hate each other. In Minho left, it wouldn't hurt so much.

Minho stormed into his car and slammed the key into the ignition, about to turn it. How could he be like that with a ?! How could he have felt so... So ing happy?! He felt nothing but disgust. Disgust at himself, disgust at Taemin, disgust at every ing word they'd said to each other.

"!" he said, slamming his hands on the rim off the steering wheel. He started the engine, put the car into gear, and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. In two milliseconds, he didn't know what was more unnerving: the fact that his car shot up from the water under the tires, or the force with which his car landed into a puddle.

And that was why he ended up in front of Taemin's stove, cooking dinner.

Taemin was at the table, reading over Minho's answers and making minor corrections. Minho was trying not to smile as he cooked. He loved cooking. He loved making food that was actually edible. Still, he was not about to smile in front of the . No! He hated being in Taemin's presence. It was only to preserve his own life that he was there.

Taemin was trying not to chuckle at one of Minho's answers. The teacher had asked the student to write a poem using iambic pentameter. Minho had essentially copied the "throwing fags to Jupiter" poem, but he'd made it about rats. Cute, Taemin thought, quickly catching himself. For an .

The silence was getting to be too much for both of them, but they both remained stoic. They counted the seconds instead, willing the other to speak first. The only sound was the sizzling of the pan. Then, suddenly, the silence was broken by Taemin's phone ringing. Taemin answered it quickly. It was Onew.

"Hyung~" Taemin said immediately. Onew spoke worriedly, talking about the storm and how dangerous it was and how Luna wasn't going to be home because she couldn't safely drive on the wet road. Taemin told Onew that he understood. He assured Onew that he was safe and that he wasn't going to wander outdoors. Finally, he hung up and just smiled fondly at the phone.

"Is that guy your boyfriend?" Minho asked stonily. He gave Taemin a sideways glance, hating that stupid smile on Taemin's face. It was disgusting.

"No, just a friend," Taemin said happily. "He's really nice... He and my sister are dating, actually. They're spending their weekend at a hotel."

"Who's that guy you were off yesterday?" Minho asked, his voice acidic with loathing. "You guys looked so disgusting."

"He's just a friend," Taemin insisted, and then he looked at Minho cruelly. "You didn't seem to think I was so disgusting when you came in my mouth."

"Shut up, !" Minho snapped as he plated the food. He brought the dishes over to the kitchen table and slammed Taemin's portion in front of the skinny boy. Taemin jumped as the food did, and he glared up at Minho. Then, he gathered up Minho's homework and marched to the stove, holding the papers to the small flame.

"Don't think I won't!" he shouted. Minho's eyes widened and he employed his football skills to tackle Taemin to the ground. The papers landed safely on the floor as the two wrestled on the cold tiles.

" you!" Minho shouted as he pinned Taemin down by the shoulders. The boy was still struggling, though. Still trying to win. Well, Minho wasn't going to let him. He slammed Taemin onto the ground again as he shouted, "Who the gave you the right to me off in the first place, huh?! You're disgusting! You're sick and wrong and I hate you!"

"Who gave you the right to hate me in the first place?!" Taemin retorted, his face red with anger, and they both glared into each other's eyes. Then, the lights flickered and they snapped out of their little hate-bubble to notice the danger they were in. A power outage was imminent.

"," they said at the same time as the lights went out completely, and the only thing they could see was the light from the small gas fire on the stove. Minho got up and gathered his homework by feel, stumbling back to the living room to put it by he other papers. He heard a clattering in the kitchen and raced back, nearly tripping on a candle. Taemin had found the box, but he'd dropped it. Silently, the smaller boy gathered the wax cylinders and lit one to find the others. Now with light, his task became a little easier. He looked up to see Minho holding out a candle.

"Thank you," he whispered, and he stood up, stretching out his hand to take it. Minho took his wrist and lowered it, both of them trying to ignore how their skin jumped. They tried to tell themselves that it was from disgust. Of course.

"More light," Minho murmured, touching the wick of his candle to the flame on Taemin's. His body shifted closer to press the two wicks together, and for a moment, he saw on Taemin's face that same image of dimly lit lips. That set that he'd kissed so softly. He blinked, ad the image was gone. He was probably just seeing things from the black out.

"!" Taemin shouted as hot wax from Minho's candle dripped onto his hand. He jerked away from Minho and blew on the spot, picking off the wax and examining the damage. He sighed and got some candle holders, giving one to Minho.

"Sorry," Minho mumbled as he stuck his candle on and put it on the table. Taemin placed his on the counter and gathered the rest of the spilled candles, listening to the storm outside. His task completed, he sat down to eat. Minho sat down too, and they ate silently.

"This is good," Taemin said softly, after the silence got to be too much. Minho looked up at Taemin and then quickly averted his gaze.

"Thanks," Minho said. He ate the pasta gingerly, not wanting to enjoy this meal with the , but at the same time liking the tastes in his mouth. Decisions, decisions.

"You're a really good cook," Taemin continued. "If you play football as well as you cook, our team might have a chance this year." He kept eating as a laugh escaped Minho's lips. He looked up. "Was that funny?"

"Yeah, a little," Minho admitted, trying to keep himself from smiling. He didn't want to be amused by the , but it was hard when Taemin was genuinely amusing. "You couldn't tell from my tackle if my skills are good or not?"

"I don't know," Taemin teased. "I doubt you could tackle me if I was running." He noticed the smirk grow on Minho's face, and something seemed to lift from his chest. Minho doesn't hate me so much, he thought before he could stop himself. Quickly, he added, I'll win the Gayme.

"Good luck out-running me," Minho challenged. Taemin laughed as he ate some more, the taste seeming better and better with each bite.

"Doesn't your gut weigh you down?" he asked mockingly, and Minho's eyes got a wicked gleam in them as they gave each other playful glares across the table. The candle flickered as they engaged in a small stare-down.

"It's not a gut. It's abs," Minho said. "All six of them. I'd like to see you have a six pack." Taeminho let out a short laugh before scooping more food into his mouth. He swallowed the delicious morsel before talking.

"I have a six pack. It's just invisible," he insisted with a proud smile. Minho chuckled as he put a forkful of sauce between his lips.

"Is that what fat people call it nowadays? 'Invisible abs?'" he teased as he got up to do the dishes. Taemin laughed and followed, his own dish in hand.

"Yah, at least I'm not so delusional that I actually think the fat is a six-pack," he said with a challenging smirk. They washed the dishes absentmindedly and didn't seem to feel it when their soapy hands brushed together.

"At least my fat's harder than yours," Minho said with an arrogant toss of his head, like a proud show horse. Taemin chuckled as he rinsed his plate and then dried it. He used the same towel to swipe along Minho's abs, causing the other to laugh loudly.

"Sorry, just wiping the grease from all that fat," he joked as he handed Minho the towel and put away the dish. He laughed with surprise as the towel was snapped against his , jumping at the sudden sensation and turning to look at Minho with a shocked grin on his face.

"Sorry, just trying to get that huge monster off of your . Oh no, wait, that was your ," he said with a laugh. Taemin laughed too as Minho tucked away the dish and the forks. He poked Minho under the ribs, causing the larger man to jolt with surprise and curl up. "Yah!"

"Just seeing if my finger would sink into the fat," Taemin teased. Minho smirked and his hands shot out, catching Taemin under the arms and tickling his sides. The smaller boy laughed and tried to push Minho away.

"Call me fat again, I dare you!" Minho roared, triumphing as he backed Taemin against the sink with his tickles. The slim boy's head tipped back and tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I surrender! I surrender!" he exclaimed, and Minho stopped his assault with a smirk. Taemin caught his breath, panting as Minho watched with a sense of victory.

Neither remembered that they were supposed to hate each other as they brought their candles to Taemin's parents' room to look for spare sheets and pillows. They joked and laughed and pretended to be ghosts as they set up a makeshift bed for Minho, and then decided that they weren't sleepy after all. They moved back to the kitchen, where Taemin rifled through the cabinets for some snacks. Minho watched from his seat at the table.

"You really don't know how to cook?" Minho asked as Taemin lined Graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows in front of the older boy. Minho could see the embarrassed blush on Taemin's face.

"I know the fundamentals of it," Taemin argued as he took a seat and started opening everything. "Isn't it basically like chemistry where all the components need to be correctly proportioned with a catalyst and heat and then they have to be—" He was cut off by a marshmallow and the tips of Minho's finger intruding his mouth. Minho chuckled as he withdrew his hand and watched Taemin wolf down the huge marshmallow.

"You need to learn to stop thinking and just relax," Minho said as he popped a marshmallow into his own mouth. Taemin swallowed the sweet goo and stuck his tongue out at Minho playfully as he grabbed another marshmallow and started squishing it. Minho watched curiously, and Taemin blushed as he realized that Minho had no clue what he was doing.

"Marshmallows are essentially corn syrup, sugar, gelatin, and water," he explained. "If I keep squishing it, it'll turn into marshmallow fluff." He showed Minho how the white treat was already forming a sticky web between his fingers. Minho laughed and tried it with his own marshmallow.

"Cool! We can make s'mores!" Minho exclaimed happily. He spread the marshmallow fluff onto a graham cracker and put a piece of chocolate in the center, putting another Graham cracker on top and consuming it with sticky fingers. Taemin laughed as e started making his own.

"Won't we get sick from eating raw s'mores?" he joked. Minho pretended to choke to death, nearly causing Taemin to really choke with laughter as he ate his s'more. They made two more each before they had to admit defeat and wash their hands.

"I feel fat for real," Taemin complained jokingly. Minho laughed at poked Taemin's flat stomach, causing the smaller boy to squeak.

"Don't lie. You're gorgeous," he said, not realizing what he'd said until he said it. Gorgeous?

Gorgeous?! Did he really just call a gorgeous? They two suddenly stopped and looked at each other. Taemin felt their comfort slip away, and he knew he had about a millisecond to hang onto it before Minho turned back into his old self and they'd be hating each other and he didn't know why but he didn't want that!

"Sure, if you find invisible abs gorgeous," he said, and Minho couldn't help but laugh. Tarmi felt the relief wash over him as he raced to put away the snacks.

"You're such a geek," Minho said, shaking his head with a smile. Taemin glared at him playfully, and Minho held up his hands innocently. "I'm sorry. Mr. Geek."

"Exactly," Taemin said with a proud smile. They didn't remember that they were supposed to hate each other. They didn't remember that they were supposed to hate each other as they laid down to sleep. They didn't remember that they were supposed to hate each other as they woke up and Taemin teased Minho for snoring too loudly. They didn't remember they were supposed to hate each other ad they made pancakes into funny faces. They didn't remember as they quickly went over the lesson about iambic pentameter, or as they said good bye with huge grins at Taemin's front door.

It was only when Minho climbed into his car that he remembered he was supposed to hate Taemin, and by then, he had to wonder if he really wanted to. He decided that he had to, decided that Taemin was a and a freak and that last night had just been because he was hungover. He decided all of this, but he didn't throw away the memories. He never could, even if he'd wanted to.

A/N - This nearly made me die when I wrote it. Just... The fangirling. The spazzing. 2MIN~

More to come, comments are love <3

P.S: To Mrs. O'Connell, the eighth grade teacher that said I was hopeless at iambic pentameter: I FINALLY GET IT! JUPITERRRRR!!!!