Minho had made up his mind. Tonight was the night that he would finally visit his boyfriend’s apartment. He wasn’t usually one to mind such things, Minho being such a private person himself, but his best friend had gotten in his head.

     “What if he’s this, like, complete psycho? One who keeps people’s heads in their refrigerators right next to the pickles and ?” Taemin leaned himself against the back of his chair, balancing himself on the two back legs.

     Minho sighed exasperatedly, “Jjong is not a serial killer, Taemin.” He wrote down the equation in his notebook, “We’ve been over this.”

     Taemin’s chair landed on all fours with a dull thud. “Why else won’t he invite you back to his place?”

     “He’s just a private person.”

     Taemin picked up his pencil for the first time in the past hour and began to work on the set of problems in front of them. The silence was appreciated and, just as Minho began to refocus, incredibly short lived.

     “It’s either some American Psycho or, you know…”

     Minho glanced up. His best friend was never one for vague statements. “Or, what?” Minho scoffed, “He’s living with someone else?”

     Taemin cast his eyes to his textbook, like calculous was suddenly the most interesting thing on the ing earth. “I don’t know, man.” He took a glance at Minho, his heart sinking with regret for having brought up such a sensitive subject, and covered his hand with his own. “I just think, after two years, you deserve some answers.”  

     Minho wrung his hands under the table and fidgeted in his seat as he wondered just how he would breach the very subject that always seemed to cause their relationship friction. “So,” he began, his throat constricting in his nervousness.

     “It looks like rain.” Jonghyun uttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. He wrapped his pretty little lips around the straw of his iced coffee, as he glanced out the shop window at the darkened sky.

     “Yeah, looks like it’s going to pour.” Minho replied flippantly in an attempt to redirect the conversation before Jonghyun went on one of his fanatic tangents, “Jjong, why don’t we ever-,”

     He turned his head suddenly, eyes glistening with mischief. “Do you want to see something amazing?” Jonghyun’s smile was so wide and filled with genuine excitement that Minho knew he wouldn’t be able to say no.

     “What is it this time?” Minho groaned as they walked down their fifth city block. “Are we almost there?”

     Jonghyun tugged at Minho’s jacket sleeve in urgency, “Just half a block further. Hurry or we’ll be late.”

     Minho watched in silence as he watched Jonghyun dug through his pockets for his key, his eyes wide in panic. Here he was, after two long years: Jonghyun’s apartment. Minho wondered what he should expect, whether his boyfriend was as much of a pig in his own dwelling as he was at Minho’s. What kind of furniture did he have? Rustic, modern, maybe boho chic?

     The door flung open, and Jjong had already removed his shoes. He bounced on the tips of his toes, unable to contain his excitement any longer. Minho chuckled softly to himself, before he noticed the boxes.

     Cardboard boxes littered nearly every corner of his boyfriend’s living room, trickling down the hall, and presumably into every other room. Suddenly Minho had the urge to check Jonghyun’s fridge, because holy Taemin might have been right.

      “Are you moving?” Minho attempted to make small talk in a sorry attempt to mask his building anxiety. He picked up a small box and held it to his ear as he shook it.

     “NO!” Jonghyun shouted, almost as if in panic, “I mean, no. I’m not moving.” He gingerly took the small cardboard box from Minho, petting the top of it gently. “You can’t do things like that.” He looked at Minho, his voice now hovering just above a whisper, “This is Steven. He’s not set to be born until June. He’s still a baby.”

     It was only then that Minho noticed the tiny, yellow post-it brandishing the front of each and every box, names scribbled in his boyfriend’s distinctly messy handwriting. Minho could no longer contain himself. “Jjong.” he managed in the most soothing voice he could possibly muster, “Jjong are there babies in here? In these boxes?”

     Jonghyun wrinkled his brow in confusion, eyes squinting in annoyance, “What? No.” It faded quickly though, the unbridled exhilaration vibrating through him as it had for the better part of the night. He produced a medium sized box from behind his back and placed it in Minho’s large, calloused hands.  “Open it.” He whispered. “Openitopenitopenit.”

     Minho’s fingers hesitated as he brushed across the name tag. “Luna?” he asked, his voice low and quite with uncertainty.

     His boyfriend nodded eagerly. “She’s one of my favorites.”

     As soon as Minho removed the lid, a tiny cloud of vapor spirit emerged, arms stretching above her head as she disappeared.

     “Uh, Jjong, what was-,”

      His boyfriend pressed his finger to his lips, head cocking sideways. “Listen.”

     The pattering of rain splashed against the terrace windows, “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

     Minho stared at Jjong’s reflection, still unable to fully comprehend what the just happened.

     Jonghyun rubbed the back of his neck, a flush spreading across his cheeks. The sound of the rain intensified in to a steady downpour. “I’m kind of a God.”  

-----------------------------------------------

a/n:

I might do more of this, but I'm not too sure.

Let me know?

cross-posted to 

LJ and tumblr

Thanks for reading.