The dull sound of skin harshly colliding against leather echoes throughout the empty, air-conditioned gym. The sound is repetitive, and for every hit of the knuckle against the heavy sand-filled bag, a low, angry grunt accompanies it.

 

"Minho, stop."

 

He keeps punching the bag, completely ignoring the blonde.

 

"Stop."

 

"Don’t— tell me— what— to do." His reply is grunted out between even harder punches, between even angrier hits.

 

"Your fists are bleeding." Kibum drops his gaze to Minho's bare torso where tiny droplets of scarlet blood from his hands have flew and decorated his toned stomach. It seems to disgust the blonde, because he cringes when his eyes scan over the crude sight. "You're crazy if you think I'm just gonna stand here and watch you torture yourself."

 

Minho does not care about the blood splattering on himself. He does not care about the splitting pain coursing through his arms. If this is what it takes to forget about what had happened two days ago, then he will keep doing it until he is too exhausted to even stay awake. "Just go fck your boyfriend or something."

 

"Why? You jealous 'cause I still have mine?"

 

The dull sounds immediately cease and in less than a second, Minho has Kibum's perfectly-ironed collar in his bloody, sore hands. His red eyes are murderous as they pierce into the elder's feline ones, practically boring holes into the wall behind Kibum's head.

 

"You're really pushing it today, aren't hyung?"

 

"What," Kibum smirks, "the thing about Taemin?"

 

"Say his name one more time, I swear to god I will break your gay ." Their faces are mere centimetres apart, heavy breaths mingling in the miniscule amount of space between them. If it were anyone else, the person would have been trembling in fear from Minho's threat. But not Kibum. It seems that he knows better than to cower away from Minho when he is in this state.

 

"I'd like to see you try, hypocrite."

 

Minho's breaths come faster, more ragged, as he pushes Kibum even harder against the wall. He wants to scream at his hyung, tell him to just leave him alone and let him cope with things the way he wants to. But he knows that that is not what he really needs. And he knows that Kibum is well aware of that as well.

 

He slowly retracts his arm and suddenly shoots it forward, a disgusting cracking sound of concrete and bones following soon after. Kibum does not even flinch. As close as the fist was to his face, he probably already figured out that Minho wasn't aiming at him, but at the wall. When Minho pulls his hand off of the dented concrete, he lets out a hiss. And then a whimper. And then tears.

 

It is only a matter of time before he drops his head on Kibum's shoulder, sobbing pathetically, hands weakly wrapping around the blonde's waist. He is desperate to have something to cling onto, because without Taemin there, he feels himself almost wanting to slip from life itself.

 

"Hyung... what the hell am I supposed to do?"

 

 

"Taemin, we have to talk about this."

 

"No, we do not." Taemin keeps his eyes glued on the flashing television screen as he shifts on his seat where he is leaning against the headboard of the bed. "We're watching a movie, so I'd appreciate it if you stopped talking."

 

He tries to focus on the scene playing in front of him, on the four men laughing their asses off for some unknown reason, but he cannot do so when he can still feel Kai's scrutinizing gaze on him. Trust his best friend to know when he is lying.

 

"Look," He feels exasperated and tired as he finally turns to face Kai properly, placing his hand on top of the other's to reassure him even more, "I knew from the start that this was going to happen, so I'm not as distraught as you think I am." He smiles at the raven-haired young man as he tries to convince him, "I'm fine."     

 

The four men on the television screen are long forgotten now as Taemin uneasily waits for Kai to reply and tell him that he believes every word he had just said. The younger man tilts his head to the side. "Really?"

 

He smiles.

 

He nods.

 

"Then why were you crying before I knocked on the door?"

 

The pregnant silence that meets Kai's question is enough to prove that he isn't telling the truth, but he pushes on with his stubbornness as he opts to avoid Kai's judging stare and settle to look at his fiddling fingers,"I wasn't."

 

His heart is racing. His mind is racing. He tries to come up with excuses to squirm out of this conversation alive. He can never let Kai or anyone else know about the sleepless nights he's been having, about the number of times he's cried in the past 48 hours, about how he's considered just ending everything with the swipe of a knife to his skin or maybe doing what his mother had done so many years ago.

 

"Stop lying to me."

 

That's what he told Minho two nights ago.

 

"I'm not. I'm telling you, I wasn't crying. That was probably just the TV or something." He knows that he does not sound all that convincing and that Kai will never believe an excuse as implausible as that, but he forces himself to at least try to cover up the embarrassing fact that he had been crying non-stop before his friend had arrived. He lies down on his side, facing away from Kai as he curls in on himself, pulling the covers over his shoulder until it almost covers his flushed face.

 

"I'm not an idiot, Tae."

 

He knows that if he keeps beating around the bush and blatantly lying to Kai's face, his best friend will most likely get upset. That is always how Kai has been. The younger's patience has been tested by Taemin for several times in the past, and now is one of the times where he knows that the other is nearing his limit. So he lets out a frustrated breath under the covers and whimpers, "What do you want me to say?"

 

Taemin is still not looking at Kai, but he knows that the raven-haired boy is looking right at him when he says, "I want you to tell me that you regret what you did to Minho."

 

Please don't say his name.

 

"I don't," He is glad that his voice did not reflect what he is really feeling, or else he would have pathetically cried out the two words. His voice is small as he tries to push through the persistent knot building in his throat. "What I did is better for the both of us." His voice cracks at the last word. Us.

 

"Do you honestly believe that?"

 

Of course not. Who in their right mind would ruin something so ing perfect? Who would purposely push away the love of their life? Who, for crissakes, would let someone as perfect as Choi Minho go? We can't live with each other, Kai. No matter how many times I tell myself that this is what's best for us, it's just not. It never will be, because what makes Taemin is Minho. What makes Minho is Taemin.

 

Those are the things he wanted to say— but Taemin can only shake his head.

 

"Come here." Taemin, amidst the distracting salty tears flooding his eyes, feels the hand lightly tugging at his hair. He easily does as he is told, because as much as he hates to admit it, this is what he needs. Not some fail excuse of a western comedy movie about four idiotic men on Blue-Ray, but a person who understands him and can tell him straight up what it is he really wants. He lays his head on Kai's lap, hugging the raven-haired boy's waist with one arm. Kai his hair. He snuggles his head further into the younger's hand. The familiar caressing feeling makes him think that if the person gently his hair right now was a certain frog-eyed man, he would have been purring in delight.

 

"Talk to your dad." He is not surprised that this is the advice that Kai starts with. He was never one for beating around the bush anyway, unlike himself. "Maybe you'll feel better when you find out what he wants from you. Then you can get rid of him for all I care."

 

Taemin looks up at Kai, and the raven-haired boy lovingly smiles at him, "Got that?"

 

He smiles.

 

He nods.

 

He is being honest now.

 

"As for Minho..."

 

Taemin frowns. His eyebrows furrow in worry, because he is anxious to know what his bestfriend has to say about all of this. He rakes his eyes over Kai's handsome features, trying to read the younger man. He bits his lip and tightens his hold on Kai's waist, not sure if he wants to hear what the young man has to say.

 

"You'd be an idiot to let him go."

 

He does not know why, but Kai's words flood him with relief, just like how crystalline tears are once again flooding his eyes. Why is he crying when he feels so happy? Why is he even happy?

 

He realizes that Kai's words bring him hope, therefore they bring him a strange sense of happiness. They are spurring him on to do what he has been refusing to do for the past 48 hours, since that fight with (him). He realizes that all this time, he just needed to hear someone give him some kind of affirmation, for someone to tell him that their relationship is not wrong and that it is not a mistake; that it is something worth saving.  

 

He smiles amidst the tears.

 

He nods amidst the doubts.

 

He cries.

 

 

His left hand is heavily bandaged while his right, the one he had used to punch the concrete, is in a cast. He keeps his head down, feeling very much like his cowardly five year old self under the dominating presence of Choi Yun-Gyeom.

 

"What's happening to you, Minho? Victoria told me that you haven't been going to work since 4 days ago. As odd as hearing that was, I thought you were just being lazy. But now when we come to visit you, you're wearing a cast?" Minho feels a hand on his knee, "What's going on?"

 

For years, Minho has been longing for this type of affection and attention from his parents, particularly from his father. But now that he is being exposed to this kind of heartfelt treatment, he finds himself refusing it. He is embarrassed about the pitiful state that he is in, and overall, he is just too upset to want to explain things to his parents. So he only stays quiet and keeps his focus on his injured hands.

 

"Is this about Taemin?"

 

He winces. Just hearing the name is enough to make him want to turn something into shattered bits and pieces again.

 

"Let it out, son."

 

He has never been one to disobey, so he does just as he is told. After breaking down so pathetically in front of Kibum, he had been desperate to look for someone to talk to, someone to give him answers. He hadn't told Kibum everything, only that he would rather die if things keep going the way they are now, and that he can't ing live without Taemin. So while he is sober and not yet a sobbing mess, he tells his father everything.

 

He tells the older man about how he can't focus at work because he isn't there. How he is losing his clients because he's been drinking so much the past days that he is never sober enough to remember the things they tell him. The only thing he can think about is him. He needs to know if he's okay, but he won't answer his calls and he doesn't know if it's just because he doesn't want to talk to him or if it's because he's in some kind of trouble. What if he's found someone else? What if he's decided to never talk to him again?

 

In the middle of Minho's rant, Mrs. Choi had walked into the room. She almost looks disgusted from the things coming out of her own son's mouth, but Minho could not care less. He has made clear to his mother his relationship with Taemin, and he'll be damned if he will let her get in the way now, where things are at their worst. The woman walks over and sits herself beside Mr. Choi.

 

"Taemin isn't going in to work anymore?" Mr. Choi inquires.

 

"Not since his dad showed up." Minho shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the memory of seeing Taemin so scared and angry. 

 

"His father? What did Lee do?"

 

"Not him. I mean his real dad."

 

"The bastard showed up?!"

 

Minho is surprised, to say the least, that his father knew what he was pertaining to. He didn't mean to let the matter about Taemin's real father slip, but it seems that he doesn't have to worry about keeping it a secret around Yun-Gyeom anymore. Although, it seems that his mother knows nothing about it, basing it off of her confused expression.

 

"You know about him?"

 

The elder man nods, "But that's about all I know. That Lee isn't his real father." His eyebrows furrow from what looks to be irritation, "He has some nerve to actually show up after all this time."

 

"Yeah..." The brunette's raw screams and endless tears are still lodged in Minho's mind, and he does not think that he will be forgetting those images anytime soon. "Taemin kept forcing him to go away, so we have no idea why he even bothered to show up. I got one of my secretaries to look him up, but all we got was his name... Some Park Suho or something."

 

Since the moment they arrived at Minho's doorstep, this is the first time that Mrs. Choi speaks up. "Park... Suho?"

 

Seeing as he is still not in good terms with his mother, Minho only nods in reply. From the orner of his eye, he sees his parents exchange secret looks of question, but he does not give it much thought.

 

"It can't be him, could it?" Yun-Gyeoms voice is barely above a whisper, but Minho hears it loud and clear.

 

"It would make sense if it were. Perhaps homouality runs in the genes." Mrs. Choi, on the other hand, isn't even trying to keep her voice down."

 

"What the hell are you two talking about?"

 

 

The strong scent of coffee wafts up Taemin's nose as he pours the dark liquid into two cups. He almost fumbles with the pot due to his clumsiness, but he saves himself from the possible coffee spill anyway.

 

He brings the emptied pot to the sink, producing a soft clatter as the steel drops onto the metal of the sink. While he's there, he washes away any traces of salty water on his face just for good measure.

 

It's been four days.

 

He brings the two cups over to where Jinki has been patiently sitting at the table. 

 

The older man nods at him gratefully before leaning back in his chair and asking, "So, how are you and Minho?"

 

Of course he'd visit to talk about Minho. He knows that he has no way of getting out of this discussion with the man. He's one of Minho's best friends, what do you expect? He gulps, and then quietly answers, "We've had better days."

 

"Have you heard from him?"

 

Taemin grips his mug tightly with both hands. "...No."

 

"Taemin." Jinki is looking at him intently now, and it irks Taemin. Jinki has never used that tone on him before, and from the way it is so cold and knowing, he decides that he does not want to hear it anymore. So he decides to answer honestly.

 

"He's been calling." Taemin keeps his eyes on the liquid swirling in his mug. He doesn't see the point in looking Jinki in the eyes, because no matter what he does, he can't read the man. He does not know what Jinki thinks of the whole situation; if he is upset, angry, understanding or what. 

 

"How many times?"

 

"A lot." He hopes that vagueness just might save him.

 

The distant sounds of a dog barking from floors down and cars beeping in the street down below saves Taemin from having to squirm in complete silence in his apartment. Neither men are making any move to talk.

 

After taking a sip from his mug, Jinki starts speaking once again. "Why don't you answer his calls?" 

 

Taemin finds that he prefers the awkward, tense silence over this. But he replies. "... I don't know." He can't say that that is entirely a lie, because he honestly does not know why he cannot find it in himself to pick up his phone and press the answer button.

 

"You know," Jinki threads his fingers together and props his chin on top of them, "Choi's company's been a mess since you've stopped going to work." His tone of voice is conversational, casual, as if the fact that his friend's company is failing is a day-to-day occurrence. 

 

This brings Taemin to look at Jinki properly, because the Choi company failing is something that has never happened before. It is unheard of. His mouth is quirked down in a frown, and his eyebrows are furrowed in concern.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because the boss is a mess." Jinki says, matter-of-factly.

 

He does not know if he even wants to ask; if he even wants to hear the answer. But he asks, anyway "'...Why?"

 

The elder's eyes bore into him, cold, flat, and emotionless. "Because there's no one there to keep him sane."

 

Am I supposed to feel glad that he's a mess without me?

 

He shivers from a gust of wind that passes over them, and he does not know if it is just because he wants an excuse to get away from Jinki, but he stands up from the table to close the open window in his apartment. He feels the cold curtain of Seoul air that enters through the window. He pulls his cardigan close around him and tries to push the second layer of glass down.

 

Suddenly, he feels a figure standing behind him. And then warm breaths to his neck and ear. Hands are placed atop his, where they are pushing down the second layer of glass. "I really liked you, you know." Jinki's hands assist him in successfully closing the window as he continues to whisper into his ear, "Still do, actually."

 

He feels a burning feeling at the back of his neck, and he is sure that it is not because of his apartment's heater. "W-What?" He does not want to turn his head around to look at the man standing behind him because he knows that the space between their faces would only be centimetres apart, maybe even none at all. He bows his head down as he speaks quietly.

 

"Why are you telling me this?"

 

"Well, since you're practically a free man now, I figured that I could make my move." Taemin is taken by surprise when he feels strong hands grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him around roughly to have him pushed against the wall. 

 

"H-hyung, what are you doing?"

 

"You already broke it off with Minho, so aren't I allowed to do this?" His wrists are pinned to the wall by Jinki's unrelenting hands. His face is inching closer, and closer, and it makes Taemin's heart beat faster, like how it always did when the red-eyed men from before would corner him in the dark alleys.

 

"Hyung—" His voice is quivering, his legs shaking so much that they are almost giving in.

 

"You're single now, aren't you?" Their breaths are mingling in the same, miniscule space. "No..." His reply is only a small whisper. Jinki's lips are on his neck, where Minho's once were.

 

"Aren't you?"

 

There are tears in his eyes again as he roughly yanks his hands from under Jinki's grip, pushing the elder away immediately, repeating his answer with a loud shout.

 

"No!"

 

He repeats the two letter word again and again, weakly hitting the man repeatedly on the chest, just so he can say that he is against what the elder is doing; because he really is. He does not want to have another man kissing him on the neck and teasing him as he is pressed up against a wall. He does not want to have another man sharing the same miniscule breathing space as him before they lean in for a kiss. He does not want to be in another man's arms.

 

Jinki grabs a hold of his wrists again. Taemin looks up at him with his red and tear-filled eyes, and he sees that the man's eyes are no longer unfeeling and cold like a while ago. They are warm and cheeky now, just as they always are. Just how they should be. And then the elder speaks in an almost fatherly voice,

 

"Good that you know."

 

He smiles down at the brunette before taking him in his arms. He whispers something in Taemin's ears before letting him go, grabbing his coat from the coat rack by the door, and walking out of the apartment.

 

Taemin stares after the man until he is completely blocked by the oak door of his apartment. He still feels the warmth of Jinki's arms on his skin, though he knows that it will slowly fade away by the minute to be taken over by the cold Seoul air. But the words the man had left Taemin with will never fade away— or perhaps not until he fulfills them.

 

‘You need him, and he needs you. Stop denying yourselves the happiness you deserve.’

---

 

 

Okay, I am really worried with how this turned out. T_T Please leave a comment and tell me what you think?

and omg 170 subscribers I love all of you thank you so much