Key

That night was dreadful, no one felt like eating the curry Key had laboured over whilst trying to build himself up for seeing the beautiful singer’s face again. He had wanted it to be okay! He really wanted it to be okay . . . what the hell had happened?! It wasn’t okay now. Thanks to his stupid attitude problem. He messed that one up. As soon as Jonghyun walked through the door, as usual Key went on the defence. There was a reason Jonghyun didn’t fall in love with Key, like Key had done him. Key was a . Jong deserved better. No matter how many nights Key lay awake dreaming of having Jong’s muscular arms wrapped tight around his waist.

Lying in bed, Key rolled to his other side, flattened his hair out of his eyes. His bedroom was the closest to the main living area, and sat opposite Jonghyun’s. The other member’s thought it very big of Key to offer to have one of the smaller rooms so the others could have larger ones. Though none of them guess his true reasoning was so he always knew, if Jonghyun was asleep opposite, Key was the closest person to him. Key wiped his eyes. This felt so pathetic.

He felt like a high school girl from one of those atrocious dramas that got so addictive, his heart beating to the sound of one boys voice. Yet, it was Key not some cute sixteen year old girl that hampered for Jonghyun’s affection the most. More than he kne . . . They had kissed, of course he knew.

A gentle knock at the door . . . or was it the wind picking up against the windows. Neither were important. Key wiped the tears away again. He had to be strong for Taemin. They all had to be strong. Nothing was more important. Especially not these personal feelings he felt that were as pathetic as these.

‘Kibummie~’ Jong’s voice whispered through the closed bedroom door. Key’s body went cold, and then it went frigid. ‘Key, are you still awake?’

‘No,’ He whispered back.

‘Can we chat, not about that, about something else?’ Jonghyun pushed open the door; a stream of pale light from the main living area came through behind him, enlightening his silhouette. Key rolled over to see him; he was crouched on the floor, his arm reaching up to open the handle. Had he been outside his bedroom door that long that he had sat down? Did he have his back to the door building up the confidence to knock? Or was Key just wishfully thinking?

‘You’ve woke me up now, might as well chat.’ Jonghyun stared up from the floor, his childish grin spread across his face, Key’s heart stammered. When Jong smiled it lit up the room like a flashlight.

‘Thank you Key,’ Jonghyun lifted himself off the floor and ran to Key’s bedside, perching himself on the end of the bed, all he wore was today’s jeans, his feet were bare, as was his torso, in all its glory, Key closed his eyes and sat up. The baggy tee-shirt hung off his shoulder.  ‘I just wondered if you were worried about Onew. He was acting strange today at the hospital . . .’

‘He is blaming himself.’

‘Why? How . . . ? He wasn’t driving the truck?’ Jong asked, almost annoyed.

‘Because he should have been there, that’s how he feels; he believes he could have avoided it if he had been there.’

‘But it was an accident; no one knew it was going to pan out like that.’

‘Don’t be so dense for once Jonghyun, can you imagine bearing the pressure of it all if it had been you that Taemin was with when it happened? Can you seriously not feel the blame falling on those involved?’ Key’s words rung out around the room even though the two men spoke in a whispering manner. Jonghyun’s brown eyes stared into Key’s, his smile long gone by this time. A car alarm started going off somewhere outside of their apartment.

‘About early . . .’ Jonghyun whispered, quieter than how they had been previously speaking.

‘Please don’t . . .’

‘I want you to kiss me again Key.’

 Minho

For once Taemin had fallen asleep without tears. Normally the nurses would come in, and sort out all his dressings, give him medicine or anti-sickness through his hand and he would complain. The pain was too much, he was uncomfortable, he wanted to scratch his legs, he wanted to have a bath, or he wanted to go home. Minho slept on the sofa in his private room never leaving his Taemin’s side. Normally there were tears. Normally Minho would have to sit in the seat pulled up to Taemin’s bed, holding his hand and singing to him whilst he cried out his tears of frustration before falling asleep with tears still clinging to his eyelashes.

But not tonight, after their afternoon, their magical afternoon Taemin actually seemed slightly lifted. If only Minho could really do that to him, if only Minho could save him! Minho watched as the youngest member slept soundly for the first time in the eight or nine or so after the accident. Minho prayed that this happiness in the boy would last and he wouldn’t relapse back to his desperation for dance. If Minho could love him enough, would that save him? Minho prayed his love was enough.

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