Minho sat comfortably as possible at the back seat before he closed the door quietly. It might have been a well sophisticated taxi interior once, with seats made of an impressive amount of foam rubber covered by first choice thick leather, but now the material was ripped on a lot of places and some springs were darting randomly through it. One was hurting Minho’s back, bouncing up and down as the car was driving and then remaining just in the middle of his back, at the only place he couldn’t reach every time the car had to stop.

It lasted about ten minutes before Minho lost his temper. He took a long and deep breath, inhaling the strong odor of the mould carpet which was covering the roof, before he knocked on the glass window that was separating him from the driver. The latter had closed it as soon as Minho had gotten up in the cab and hadn’t spoken a word since his last sentence. Besides opening it would prevent it from lapping against the slot it was supposed to come in, producing a small repetitive sound that tickled Minho’s ears. And not in a good way; more in an annoying yet irrepressible way that he couldn’t ignore.

He knocked on the square piece of glass as he received no answer, this time to have a microphone thrown at him. Or what he guessed was somehow it. He caught it on fly, before it could hit his knees and looked carefully at it, trying to figure out what it was. A loud growl, almost animalistic, came from the front seat followed by two or three light coughs that made Minho think the driver was some heavy smoker; which still not told him why he had been attacked by a random device.

A least now there was no more irritating noise Minho told himself. He arched his back slightly to avoid the spring to pierce him as he cleared his throat noisily to let the person in front on him be aware of his presence, just in case he had forget or he thought he was mute.  He was about to speak when a second thing was thrown at him. This time, being too surprised he missed it and had to lean down to pick it up. But then a piece of clothing fell on his neck, slowly sliding down as he was sitting up straight. He let his free hand reach it and gave it an incredulous look as he identified it being a shirt. An ugly one that was looking like what even a timber would never agree to wear, red and white checked.

Minho wondered since when taxi driver came with a stripper option adding for himself that if he – or she, he couldn’t be sure about it – was good looking it wouldn’t be a bother at all, but then he remembered that that person wasn’t wearing the piece of clothing he held in his hand but a sweat. He tried to see if there was any clue of the sweat on the passenger seat by sneaking a look at the rear-view mirror squirming in an ungainly way only to have all his momentary hopes shattered since there was no sign of it anywhere. Maybe it was on his laps.

At that thought, Minho took off his secure belt as he moved as quietly as possible to the other side of the backseat. Plus, there was no dangerous spring that would try to kill him on this side.

As he did his quick operation, he never quitted the rear-view from the eyes his deduction being that if the driver was shirtless, he might have took his cap off, then he would be able to clearly set if it was one of his acquaintance or not. Which he hadn’t been able to tell since the person was not shirtless at all.

Half dashed; he then remembered what he was willing to do in the first place. He cleared his throat again, the same way the first time he did it, and asked the driver in a demanding voice:

“How long since we arrive?”

This was not really the only question Minho wanted an answer to, actually there were tons of them - in particular if driving such a ruin was really legal - but seeing how communicant the men had been, Minho chose to start securely, one question by one. The response took him aback on the other hand.

“Strip and put all of your clothes in the bag I gave you. Now.”

The tone was demanding and offered no discussion, yet Minho had been offended by it and was willing to tell his mind. He wouldn’t let some poor and needy taxi driver rob him without doing anything. He was also ready to kill Taemin as soon as he would see him, if he still was alive at the end of the ride, or at least thank him properly for his relievable connections.

So Minho did the most rebellious action he could think of, which appeared to not move a finger, his glare shooting dagger that he was sure the driver felt through the rear-view. He reiterated his question in a cold yet composed voice.

“I think I asked you when we were going to arrive, could you at least give me an answer?”

He was hoping some sarcastic answer, informing him that they would arrive when the men had decided it or anything like that but all he gained was another order.

“Just do what I told you.”

Minho wanted to hang his mouth open, to stare at the men in awe and let all the emotion which were flowing through his mind appear on his face as he replayed the few words over and over in his head, but he was Choi Minho and his had a composure to stand. So he just let it play again and again until he broke down. Never in his life he had been threatened that directly and he already had been, working in one of the biggest corporation of Korea, but never that cheaply and that made him totally lose all dignity.

“You son of a , who do you …”

The rest of the sentence dying in his throat as the men’s word resounded one last time in his brain. That voice. He knew it in all its form yet it took him so long to recognize it. He lowered his head staring at the object he was holding in his left hand, that he almost had forgotten about. He stared at it for two second until the men spoke again.

“I’m happy to see you too again, Choi Minho.”

Minho tilted up his head and caught the driver smirk on the rear-view. He was about to bow his head respectfully when he remembered who he was now talking to. Instead he relaxed himself a little, putting an arm round one of the free headrest.

“Lee Taemin.”

The name was said as if Minho was really surprised to see him there. Sure he had been, but now that he was thinking about it Taemin had almost always worked solo and only required back up help from one person - maybe two. Anyway those people were never interfering in Taemin’s plan once it had started. He let out a dark chuckle as he complimented the boy.

“What a great masquerade! You’re getting better and better at it, you know.”

But Taemin wasn’t as dumb as Minho had been thinking and he quickly pointed the truth out.

“I don’t think you really meant what you just said, after all you hate being fooled if I’m right.”

Minho snorted loudly as memories from his previous encounters with Taemin were surfacing again; the boy was smart and Minho would never be able to buy him with some nice words or fake compliments. He closed his eyes and let a calm smile spread on his face; it had been so long since he had met a worthy opponent. Because more than being partner with some benefits at the end of their contracts, Minho was seeing him as a challenger, as one of the rare person capable to stand up to him.

“You are.”

Taemin giggled childishly before he questioned Minho one last time.

“So now, are you going to do what I asked you?”

Minho almost chocked himself with his own saliva.

“You mean what you wanted to force me to do, don’t you?”

To which he earned an annoyed sight.

“That’s just words Minho, stop being a child.”

Minho didn’t bother to point out the insult; it sure wasn’t his first neither than his last coming from Taemin’s mouth, besides he would get his revenge sooner than the boy could expect, but instead he wanted to argue that it was the point, that words were making all the difference. He had a lot of theories he would have been able to expose to Taemin along with accurate examples but that would just drag them further and further to more important points. This and that right now, he didn’t want to enter in an endless debate he wasn’t sure to win, knowing Taemin stubbornness.

He chose to please his wish as he looked for an eventual bag around him. If Taemin himself – and not some dirty corrupted taxi driver – was requiring that, then he had a good reason and all of Minho’s trust. Minho wasn’t a man for useless words so he cocked his eyebrows as he found nothing and knocked once again at the glass separation not sure that if he just made a quiet hand sign Taemin would catch it.

“The thing you’re holding so tight in your hand, that’s it.”

And Minho wondered how he could guess what he was squeezing in his hands, seeing how Taemin’s glance was focused on the road. He loosened his fingers and grabbed the small paper ball, unfolding it with slow and delicate moves to not scratch it. He ed his shirtsleeves, loosened his tie and as he started to grab the first collar button, he caught Taemin’s shooting him a light glance. He smirked and decided to play the game the boy would be lusting for.

He took as much time as he could to undress himself, his eyes riveted on the rear view with such a fierce glance that Taemin shivered once or two. He was almost caressing himself and Taemin his lips, narrowed his eyes, his palms becoming sweaty. He was hardly conscious of what he was turning into.

Minho on the other hand was completely aware of it. Right now he could have asked anything to the boy, he would have had it and he swore to God that he liked – no loved – this power he had on him, the way Taemin was craving for his flesh. It was maybe the only moment he was sure he was completely dominating Taemin.

But he did nothing, following the instructions to the letters.

Once he had carefully put everything in the bag, which he noticed was some junk food bag, he waited for Taemin to give him others instructions. And he waited. Waited Again and again. He clucked his tong as irritation was growing on him. But Taemin didn’t say anything; instead he kept on devouring him with his eyes, appreciating the slim yet muscular body and sending him more than suggestive looks as he followed the dark line of hair who was disappearing under the boxers. What was pleasing Minho a few minutes ago was now turning against him and he had to admit he was starting to feel cold. Taemin was usually the one to talk about and his attitude was disturbing Minho, screaming at him that something was definitively wrong.

The car stopped on what seemed to be a deserted playground. Taemin got out of and stretched himself before he slammed the door with a loud bang, disappearing from Minho’s sight. Minho was left clueless one more time and he was more than reaching his limit at the moment. The only thing that prevented him from going out to yell his heart out at Taemin’s face was that he was also half- and he wasn’t ready to take the risk to be seen by anybody. This would be more than suspicious and a part of him was sure that Taemin was playing with the situation on purpose.

He heard light friction noises coming from behind him which made him turn his head in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on. He saw the trunk being lifted and guessed Taemin’s body picking up something inside it. Then he heard a small knock on his window.

He half opened the door, humming a questioning sound but Taemin grabbed it and opened it wide. He crawled on the backseat searching for the bag as he dropped some other clothes. A pair of faded jeans, worn-out shoes and a burgundy Yankee cap. As he saw them, Minho started to put them on him, not bothering to ask Taemin neither than wait that he would be out, creating some awkward frictions that left goosebumps on some visible part of both of their skins.

Taemin withdrew from the car a little bit too quickly which left a victorious smile on Minho’s face and made his way in direction of the nearest garbage can around him. He scolded himself that the flesh to flesh and all other physical teasing would be for later and that for now they have to be professional. At least until they were arrived.

He was about to drop the bag when a hand stopped his wrist. He met Minho’s darkest glare and thought that maybe he shouldn’t have been that far. But another part of his mind told him that he had made the right choice, that taking risks and making mistakes right now wasn’t a safe idea.

“You owe me an explanation.”

A simple statement, so full of truth that it made Taemin sigh. He delivered himself from Minho’s grip which was starting to be too strong and hurting him as he took a playful voice.

“Oh? And why should I? You hire me to make my job and you don’t even trust my competences?”

He faked a hurt expression as he collected an imaginary tear from the end of his mid-finger. All he had to do was sparing enough time to reach the cab and start it again so he could be silent once again and explain everything later. But Minho bought nothing of it and held on Taemin’s collar as the boy was starting to walk away.

“I want to know what is going on. Right now.”

Minho was beyond pissed and the game Taemin was playing helped nothing. Something was definitively off and the fact that Taemin wasn’t denying it but just avoiding it made the subject even more suspicious. But Taemin did nothing else than struggle and when he was finally free, he said in a firm tone:

“Trust me.”

Eventually he put the paper bag in the bin and decided to say something that might have allayed Minho’s doubt about all the unusual stuff.

“I think we might be followed.”

But Minho understood it the wrong way.

“Somebody is after you?”

Minho couldn’t understand, if Taemin was not in a safe position it was totally crazy that he agreed to meet Minho. Even more at that time.

Taemin gave him an incredulous look and spited:

“They’re after you, not me.”

That was all he allowed himself to tell before they would be in a more trusted place. He started to make his way back to the cab thinking that it was enough and that Minho would now follow him. Instead Minho sat on one the swing and waited for Taemin to tell him more, to explain him how he could be aware of that kind of information.

Feeling that Minho wasn’t behind him, Taemin massaged his temples and went to the man once again. He set himself in the other swing as he expected Minho to ask him some of the question he had. But he had to answer well and quickly, so that Minho wouldn’t have new question on his mind. What an easy task, he cheered himself ironically.

“Since when?”

First question. Easy.

“I don’t really know, I guess it started between the third contract and the last time I saw you.”

It was the truth; Taemin couldn’t precisely tell when it has started neither than the name of the men, but he knew who hired them.

“They work for your father.”

He looked out for the expression on Minho’s face and he wasn’t disappointed at all. Minho looked so taken aback at the moment, almost afraid. It was delicious.

Minho had always made sure to have a head start toward his father, stretching to secretly hiring someone like Taemin to secure his future. He never left anything to chance, always envisaging all the scenarios down the smallest detail that could occur or cause his loss, because he was aware he hadn’t only friends. And he knew everything about everybody around him – or so he thought. Slowly processing the information in his mind, he continued:

“What do they want in your opinion?”

Taemin thought about it for a few seconds, rocking on the swing at a slow pace and counting things on his fingers before he blurted out:

“To be honest, I don’t think your life is in danger. They just want to catch you doing not so legal things but I’m not sure for what reason.”

Taemin tilted his head to the left as he thought about a rational explanation – they were plenty in Minho’s father’s logic - and added to the movement of the swing his cap fell down, revealing red messy hair. Half-relieved by what he just learned, Minho it lightly as he leaned down to pick up the hat. Then he put it back on Taemin’s head with a kind of gentle smile. The look on his face made him look even more innocent that usual and if Minho wasn’t so fierce, his heart would have fluttered at the sight.

The boy was utterly surprised by Minho’s sudden kindness but nonetheless, he managed to compose himself. He had to end the stop on the square before it lasted too long for their own sake.

“We should go back to the cab otherwise we won’t fit the planned timing.”

Minho cocked an eyebrow.

“You had to plan a timing to pick me? And why did you get a ride of my clothes by the way?”

 Taemin nodded quietly, and then added:

“If I’m not on time I’ll have to get a definitive ride of a useless car which would be difficult in my neighborhood. Plus did you look at your suit?”

Minho glanced in direction of the bin his clothes were now resting on and shrugged.

“God, where I live this would attract every single look on you and believe me, that’s really not what we need right now.”

So they were going to Taemin’s apartment. The boy had mentioned it in front of Minho once, and the later had to admit he had already wondered how it could be like inside. But Minho had one last question he couldn’t wait to have to arrive to have an answer.

“Whose car is it if it’s not yours then?”

Taemin shrugged.

“Don’t know, one of Key’s little friends provided it to me.”

His hands mimed quotes at the mention of those so called friends and he continued:

“But Key said that he wasn’t sure if they were still hundred percent relievable, so I don’t want to take risks and tell something that could be registered inside the car.”

So Kibum was also involved in it. Minho opened the back sit door and took place while Taemin switched on the ignition. Kim Kibum was the person who introduced him to Taemin. He worked in his father’s corporation as one of his father’s personal assistant, most of the time to authenticate documents or signatures.

Kibum was such an ace at his work that it seemed almost inhuman to know every single small details that made a document falsified or a signature imitated. It turned out that if was so aware of such little things it was because he worked as a counterfeiter during his free time. And when Minho had needed someone for his first contract, Key had opened up his little secret to him and introduced Taemin. Taemin, to who he provided help whenever the boy needed it and that he trusted with no limit.

Minho never regretted anything.

Eventually, Taemin parked the car in a deserted street and dialed a number on his phone. After a few tones, the person picked up the phone and he whispered some intelligible words that Minho hadn’t been able to understand. He lifted a thumb in Minho’s direction and made him a sign quit the vehicle. Minho understood it and they both left it.

They zigzagged across a few streets passing in front of junkies, es and beggars who sited on the sidewalk, until they arrived in front of an old and graphitized building. Taemin dug his hand in his pocket and took out a bunch of keys. He e into the locket and kicked the door with all his strength to open it.

“It’s on the fourth floor.”

Minho barely registered what Taemin said to him, lost in contemplation of a world of misery and poverty to his eyes. He followed him absent-mindly wondering why the boy was still living in such a dirty place with all the money he earned. He almost felt mercy for him and Taemin noticed the lack of reactivity.

“I know it doesn’t look great, but it’s the perfect place for me to hide. And most of my connections live around here.”

Minho blinked a few time until he noticed that they were arrived and now in front of an opened door. He guessed it was Taemin’s apartment and made a step in only to be pin against the door and have a pair of demanding lips meeting his.

He closed his eyes and smiled in the kiss as he mentally noted that the game had just started.