The stubborn knocks on his door range from loud to soft, continuous to periodical, and Minho responds to all of them with a deaf ear. His mother is the last person that he would want to talk to right now. It is Day 7 of his brooding, and seeing the woman would only serve to dampen his mood even more so than it is already. Yura has been calling out to him, shifting between demanding for him to open the door right this instant and pleading for him to give her a chance to make it up to him.

 

What she probably does not realize is that Minho does not need her to make it up to him – rather he needs her to make it up to Taemin. The woman has not slightest idea just how much torment she had indirectly inflicted on the boy, and it irritates him that his mother doesn't even seem to realize that.

 

The muffled pleas have stopped, and Minho turns down the volume of the show he was pretending to be watching. He strains to hear his mother's voice on the other side of the entrance door, but all he hears is an angry, hushed hiss from the woman, as if she is arguing with someone.

 

And then he hears it— that sweet, hesitant, beautiful, quiet voice that he had missed so much for the whole of the past seven days of torture.

 

"Minho?"

 

It takes him less than two seconds to jump off of the couch and yank open the oak door. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, and he does not care that his hair is not combed out in the slightest, that his eyes are probably swollen from all of the sobbing, or that the strips of gauze left on his hands are dirtied and worn out. He thinks, knows that it is Taemin on the other side and he just has to make sure as soon as possible.

 

"Taemin?!" He is breathless as he asks. His sweats and his thin white shirt are rumpled, and he feels so horribly ugly in front of the gorgeous being fidgeting in front of him. (He is well aware of his mother's negating presence as well but he pretends to take no notice.)

 

It looks as if Taemin is breathless as well, because he takes a quick intake of air when he sees Minho, but he does not speak. He only shakily nods in acknowledgement.

 

"H-How long have you been standing here?" He has to ask, because he is worried that he might have kept him waiting long. He does not miss the affronted look that is on his mother's face.

 

"I just got here, actually." Taemin looks embarrassed as he responds, not daring to look at the woman tapping her foot irritatedly behind him, who is so blatantly glaring at his back. He looks highly uncomfortable with the way Yura is sending him those looks of distaste, but Minho does not take notice of it because he is too busy indulging in the sight of Taemin. His eyes rake greedily over the patch of neck that is peeking out from under the brunette's scarf, over the pink lips and the eyebags that are so painfully out of place on his youthful features.

 

It had been too long since he had last seen him.

 

"... Can I come in?" Taemin is looking at him with furrowed brows now, and it reminds Minho that the way he is staring at the brunette is making things awkward and that it would be pretty silly for them to keep standing around by the entrance like idiots. This is what Taemin does to him. He somehow loses all common sense in an instant.

 

"Ah, of course." He only slightly stutters between the words as he steps aside to let the brunette in. He has no plans on inviting his mother inside as well, but just as he is about to close the door on her, he feels a small hand on his arm. He looks at Taemin, and the boy is looking back at him knowingly, shaking his head disapprovingly. For some reason that had always puzzled Minho, Taemin always seems to understand the situtations at hand whenever it comes to Minho, whether he himself is a part of it or not— and right now, he knows that Minho is supposed to allow Mrs. Choi in now.

 

So Minho does. On good terms or not, he is never able to say no to Taemin. And it actually scares him when he realizes just how much power the boy has over him. He leaves the door open and grimly nods at his mother before grabbing Taemin by the wrist and dragging him off to his room.

 

When Minho closes the door behind them, they are engulfed in darkness, in silence, in cold. Minho has been keeping it this way since last week. It makes him feel less of a wimp whenever he ends up breaking down during the nights where he thinks about that flash of brunette hair or those sparkling eyes or that dazzling smile because at least he does not see himself and how he looks so pathetic, crying over someone so pitifully.

 

His eyes easily adjust to the dark, and he sees the smaller figure in front of him twitching ever so slightly. "Can you... Can you turn on the light?"

 

Minho considers it for a moment. But he decides that he can't let Taemin see him break down— if and when it ever happens— in front of him. Because he is quite sure that if he is allowed even a few measly minutes of looking at Taemin under the soft lighting of his bedroom's lamps, alone with him in this confined space in all his vulnerability, he just might jump him and ravish him against his will. So he says for the first time in his life (but only because it is for Taemin's benefit), "No."

 

"Minho, I'm sorry—"

 

"Don't. Don't say sorry."

 

"But— I said things."

 

"Yeah," Minho pauses to clear his throat, "You did."

 

The lack of sound, lack of movement is suffocating. Taemin's shaking, tentative voice keeps things going again.

 

"If you don't want me to talk..." Minho makes out through the darkness that the younger boy isn't looking at him and is instead gluing his gaze to the carpeted floor, "then can I at least... touch you?"

 

Of course, he wants to say. But he settles for a less enthusiastic, more unsure, "... Yes."

 

Arms wrap around his torso and something softly collides against his chest with a dull thud. The force of Taemin's body isn't enough for him to lose his footing, but he is overwhelmed by the familiar feeling of the boy's warmth that he has been craving for so long. As if on instinct or from the sheer experience that he has been so accustomed to, his limbs loosely wrap around the other boy's tiny frame as well.

 

"I'm sorry." Taemin is stubborn, and his small voice is muffled my Minho's shirt. He feels the boy's warm breath glaze over his chest, and he feels the tell-tale signs of wetness and teardrops stain through to his skin, but he does not mind it. The brunette's fingers clench around his shirt's fabric.

 

Minho sadly smiles down at him, even though it is impossible for Taemin to see it through this darkness and through his crying. "I'm supposed to be angry at you," He quietly says, "I should be mad that you accused me of wanting to leave you. That you don't trust me." His voice is turning a tad hasher when he reminds the both of them of those last two sentences.

 

But when he gently tilts Taemin head up by his chin and he sees the younger's watery eyes, he forgets all about what was carelessly said and it is easy for him to revert back to his loving tenderness. "But I just can't. Not when it's you."

 

Taemin is looking back at him now.

 

He is biting his lip, and his body is quivering in Minho's arms. "I'm sorry." He repeats himself, and his voice is shaky, Minho notices. He must be crying. "I'm sorry."

 

His whimpering and his lilting voice are heartbreaking. Minho lets himself soak in its sweet sincerity, smiling a bittersweet smile. He presses his forehead to Taemin's, looking into the younger's glazed orbs through the blackness of the room. The sweet scent of Taemin fills his senses and his very core, and he finds that he really can't do well without this boy by his side.

 

"Never say those things again."

 

Taemin wordlessly nods against his forehead.

 

"Promise?"

 

"P-Promise." He stutters not because he is unsure, but because he feels his throat is about to close up because he wants to cry from the overwhelming relief that is surging through him, and he doesn't want to right now, because he is tired of crying. He only wants to bask in Minho's warmth until gravity takes its toll on them and they are unable to even stand properly anymore to continue their embrace.

 

Their lips meld against one another perfectly— not in that they fit well against each other, but because all of the right emotions are poured into the kiss— and that is what makes everything perfect.

 

And this is all it takes to make things better again.   

 

There need not be any long-winded, dramatic arguments. Perhaps, all that is needed is remorse for who has done wrong, and acceptance for who has been wronged.

 

When they pull away, both equally as breathless as the other, Minho caresses Taemin's cheek with his thumb. Taemin nuzzles against his touch.

 

"I... have to say sorry too. For my mother, that is."

 

Taemin is nuzzling his face into the crook of Minho's neck now, as he asks, "Why?"

 

The elder is getting blissfully distracted by Taemin's cuddles and warm breaths, and this is not the right time to be distracted -- not when he is supposed to properly apologize for his mother's mistakes. So he holds Taemin by the shoulders and holds him at arm's length. He gulps when he sees the worried crease in the brunette's brows. He lets go of Taemin entirely and walks to pull open a curtain to at least let in some of the dim moonlight from outside. The light smoothly illuminates part of the room, and it is easier for Minho to see Taemin's puzzled expression now. He walks back to the younger boy, making sure to keep his distance because he still does not know how Taemin will react to this.

 

"Your father. He left you and your mother... For my mom."

 

"What?"

 

Taemin's unbelieving tone scares Minho. Will they be fighting again? "... Your dad left you because he was having an affair. With my mother." Taemin's expression is unreadable, so Minho is quick to add, "I-I swear I didn't know! But that's no excuse. I know that saying sorry isn't enough for you to forgive me for what happened, but I just— I have to at least try to fix things."

 

It terrifies Minho that the suffocating quiet has returned. He does not want to look at Taemin, because he is afraid to see how he is taking all this, how he will react.  "It's not your fault now, is it?" Suddenly Taemin's gentle smile is gracing his face, and it is brighter than any moonlight can and ever will be. Minho is stunned— both by Taemin's breathtaking beauty in that moment and the sheer absence of any traces of anger or animosity in the boy's reaction.

 

"But— But what they did— my mother practically caused every bad thing you had to go through—"

 

"That has nothing to do with us." Taemin is walking towards him now, and his hands clasp around Minho's neck. "It doesn't have to matter. It doesn't have to change anything."

 

For the nth time that evening, Taemin takes his breath away by his mere words. He can do nothing but adoringly kiss him everywhere, just from how in awe he is of the boy in his arms.

 

His lips come in contact with Taemin's temple, the curve of his jaw, and finally, to the boy's lips. "You're amazing."

 

Taemin can only giggle sheepishly as he pulls himself closer to Minho, burying his face into the elder's neck. He's missed this.

 

They are forced to pull away when they are reminded of the presence in the living room outside by Yura's voice calling out a hesitant, "Minho?"

 

"." He runs a hand through his messy hair, "I forgot she was there."

 

"Talk to her." Taemin smooths down his locks, combing it gently with his fingers. "Whatever it is, talk to her. Please."   

 

As much as he is against doing it, with Taemin pleading writh him with those eyes and those fingers and that voice, Minho is pushed to say yes. He lets out an annoyed exhale of air and grudgingly pulls away from his retrieved love. He walks out of the room, forgetting to close the door behind him.

 

"What do you want."

 

Yura jumps when he hears Minho's hiss, swiftly turning around from the picture frames she had been probing. Minho sees that the last one the woman was eyeing before he caught her was the one where Taemin took a spontaneous self-shot of the two of them as he kissed Minho on the cheek.

 

The woman regains her composure and brings her handbag higher up her shoulder. "Minho, don't you want to talk about what happened? You know, so that we can get things back to normal again?"

 

Minho crosses his arms. "Absolutely not."

 

Yura is indignant, as she stomps her heel, temporarily going out of character of her usual stuffy and composed demeanor. "Minho, I really am sorry for what happened—"

 

"You're not supposed to be apologizing to me. The one who had to take all of the crap of your ing affair was Taemin. And I'm not going to listen to anything you have to say unless you properly apologize to him, to his face." He knows that he sounds immature and that that idea is probably very far off and is practically impossible, but he means every word of it.

 

Amidst his musings, he feels tender fingers softly grip on his own, and he almost jumps in fright until he realizes that these soft hands intertwining with his are Taemin's. He vaguely wonders when he had gotten here, beside him, but he is pulled from his thoughts when Taemin hesitantly whispers from behind him, "That really isn't necessary, Minho."

 

Minho doesn't turn his head to look at him. He is only staring straight ahead, watching his mother. He sees Yura react to Taemin's words. He notices the way her brow arches just the slightest bit, most likely unbelieving of the brunette's words.

 

"What's done is done." Taemin's chest is warm against Minho's back, and Minho knows that the younger boy is doing this, embracing him from behind, to calm him down. Maybe even to get him to agree with his pleas.

 

"Taemin..." Minho tries to protest. He turns his head to the side to try and meet Taemin's eyes properly, and so he misses the way that Mrs. Choi is watching the whole exchange. The two boys argue in whispers, the younger insisting that they just forget about this whole thing with the other protesting that no, he deserves an apology and he is going to get one.

 

"Minho's right."

 

In all her life, she had never seen her son act so stubbornly, solely for another person's welfare. She notices the way his demeanour always changes whenever that long-haired boy is around. How the fiery look in his eyes would instantly relax into a fond gaze, whenever he switches his attention from her to Taemin. How Minho's smile is just that little bit wider and cheekier when Taemin is beside him. Maybe these observations are what pushed her to yield to her son's demands.

 

"Lee Taemin."

 

Taemin timidly steps out from behind Minho, still looking intimidated by Yura's presence. "Y-yes?"

 

"As much as I still cannot condone your relationship with my son-" Minho tries to cut her off, but both Taemin and Yura raise one hand to prevent his interruption, "- I do have to apologize. I've caused you a great deal of pain, haven't I?" She shakes her head solemnly. "So, I'm sorry. I really am. But I still do not accept you for my son."

 

Taemin makes no move to approach her, as does Minho. When had his mother ever admitted to her mistakes? It is an odd sight, really, and he thinks that a single word out of him would ruin the moment.

 

Their fingers are still intertwined, and Minho feels it when Taemin squeezes his hand, probably to let out some of the tension he is feeling— because he does look tense, with the way he is biting his lip, looking as if he is going to cry any moment now.

 

"Thank you." Despite Mrs. Choi's blatant declaration of her unacceptance for Taemin, he feels the need to thank her. Though his voice is choked up and although it probably sounds strained and small and squeaky, he still does. Because this is Minho's mother, and she is finally recognizing him as someone in Minho's life. She may not like him, but at least he is now something in her eyes.

 

That's better than nothing, Minho thinks of his mother's apology. He muses, seeing that he really is a lot like Choi Yura. The woman half-heartedly turns her nose up at Taemin's 'thank-you', but Minho knows that the two words have struck her – hard. He knows that his mother is feeling guilty for treating Taemin like when Taemin has only ever been – and will only ever be – kind to her.

 

He looks down at the brunette, and he is glad to see that Taemin does not take offense from his mother's snobby reaction. He is smiling, actually, as if he understands that Yura's turn-of-the-nost betrays what she really feels. He watches as the boy's tired eyes crinkle in amusement.

 

"Hey." He weakly pulls on Taemin's hand.

 

"Hm?"

 

"Do you want to go lie on my bed for a bit? You look tired." He frowns, because it really is the truth – even if Taemin looks absolutely gorgeous at the moment, the bags under his eyes give away the exhaustion he must be feeling. "I'll wake you up in an hour, okay?"

 

Taemin pouts, gives it some thought for a moment, and then nods. Minho pecks him on the cheek, and he is off to the bedroom with a soft pat to his bottom from the elder man.

 

 

True to his word, Minho walks his bedroom in approximately an hour, pleasantly surprised by how easy it had been to interact with his mother in the past 48 minutes. They had talked things over, resolved to stay quiet and tolerant about certain things, promised to keep their tempers in check, and by the end of their little chat, they were the non-dysfunctional mother and son pair again. He sent her home via Shindong, telling his mother to call him when she gets home.

 

He tries his best to be as silent as possible as he closes the door behind him, wincing when the doorknob clicks way too loudly for his liking. He spots the curled up figure in his bed, illuminated by the yellow-orange hue of his bedside lamp. Taemin never fancied sleeping in the dark.

 

He is lying on top of the covers, probably having been too tired to even think of pulling up the comforter over his body. Minho walks over to sit cross-legged on the floor by Taemin's side, smiling fondly at the boy's serene face as he caresses the boy's hair, cheek, lips.

 

Suddenly, his finger is lightly caught between teeth, and that is when Minho sees the cheeky smile on Taemin's face.

 

"Took you long enough to get here."

 

"Couldn't sleep?"

 

"Didn't want to."

 

Before he can blink, Minho is roughly pulled on top of Taemin's small figure. He tries to hold himself up by his arms so that he wouldn't be crushing the boy with his weight, but the latter only yanks him down even harder so that they are chest to chest and the non-existent space between their bodies can only be filled by nothing else but air.

 

"What are you do—"

 

He is interrupted by Taemin's lips, just as he always his. Taemin's arms wrap around his neck tighter, and Minho would have complained because he is almost suffocating from how close they are but he doesn't, because he is enjoying this way too much to stop it by talking.

 

The kiss is anything but picture perfect— it is messy. Minho's hands are everywhere, touching everything that is Taemin that he is able to touch. Their tongues are battling insistently for dominance, and of course Minho is winning, but he lets Taemin try to take over every now and then. His hands are gripping the brunette's long hair, his torso, his bottom, his thighs, and damn if anything, the long brown hair is what turns him on the most.

 

They are both literally breathless now, having out the air out of the other from their heated session. Taemin's face is adorably flushed and he looks absolutely ravished as he breathes deeply in and out, so perfectly close to Minho's.  

 

"I missed this," He breaths, kisses him chastely, catching the elder's lower lip in his teeth before pulling away. "I missed you."

 

The air is dense, thick, but it is not because of tension. It is because of love, lust, longing, need, desire. They are both drowning in the flood of emotions pumping with their blood, and as Minho responds with an almost beastly kiss, they know that this night will lead to more than steamy frenching sessions and warm cuddling. It is their first – it is them, together.

 

 

They lie in Minho's stained and messed up bed, clothes thrown everywhere, bodies heaving from their previous highs. A comforter is pulled up over the both of them, and Taemin snuggles even further into Minho's side, not because he is cold but simply because he wants more of the warmth that Minho has to offer. It is all his, and he is feeling greedy at the moment.

 

"Taemin?" Minho's voice is hoarse, and Taemin does not understand why because he was the one who was incessantly moments ago.

 

He inhales his boyfriend's musky, heavy scent. "Yeah?"

 

"Was I your first?"

 

Minho does not fail to notice the obvious color that had rushed up to Taemin's face. He smiles and actually shivers in delight when he feels the boy's timid nod against his neck. He skims his fingers up and down Taemin's spine, easily relaxing the brunette, almost enough to make him purr like he always does whenever they are cuddling. But he doesn't purr— instead, he speaks.

 

"Was I your 100th?" Minho practically feels the smile on his neck, hears the laugh in Taemin's voice.

 

"Dunno. Lost count."

 

He receives a weak slap to his chest then, and he chuckles when Taemin darkly mutters, "."

 

"You're my last, though." And he smiles as he fingers Taemin's back, because he means it.

 

A fleeting peck on the cheek and a sweet 'I love you.' are what he receives in exchange. He whispers back an equally as sweet (if not more) 'I love you, too.' before closing his eyes and falling asleep. He turns off the lamp, though, because although Taemin is not fond of sleeping in the dark, he is in Minho's arms now, and they both know that he feels safe enough to be engulfed in darkness for this evening.

---

 

 

SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! T____T The ending is my fail attempt at writing a love scene -- that's as far as I can go, though. And again with the lengthy dialogues OTL