Hey everyone! I'm back with this fic The Loved and the Lost. This writing style should be differnt from For You in Full Bloom mostly because our characters are older and more logical. Please enjoy this fic! I also won't be able to update for a while after this as I'm going on holiday and school begins on the 19th. Thanks for reading and all the sarangs, 

Drg-Lee

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            Minho’s birthday fell on a Wednesday that year and he had nothing particularly special planned for the day, so when he woke to his alarm blaring, he immediately pressed the button and groaned. He felt Taemin turn in discomfort and Minho adjusted the blanket on the younger one and left the bed, changing out of his pyjamas and into his normal attire. Minho used to sleep almost , his soft skin touching equally soft linen and cotton. But Minho became ashamed of himself, not daring to let Taemin see him in anything less than a shirt and gym shorts. Taemin wasn’t nearly as modest as his hyung, which was made obvious when he started to change right in front of Minho, who furiously covered his face and looked away, heart pounding. Thinking about the moment again heated Minho’s cheeks and he shook the thought away with a shake of his head. No Choi, today wasn’t the day to be thinking about this.

            Minho was more concerned about the job deal he could make today than his actual birthday. He had mentioned the recent addition to the family to his boss, and his boss, so kind-hearted and generous, offered to give Minho a raise if he could secure a deal on a particularly sketchy client. And so Minho agreed to take the case on, knowing what day the deal fell on because it was the second Wednesday of December but also forgetting what date the deal was because it was 9 December, 2015. Minho hadn’t had a reason to celebrate his birthday for a few years, just getting a postcard from his mother around the actual date. Although he knew for a fact that he was born on 9 December, it slipped his mind every single year until he was alone in his too-big flat with a full glass of his favourite old wine and his lonely eyes met the dull chrome clock resting on the sickening chartreuse wall and he would raise his crystal glass and smile sadly and wish himself a happy birthday. Sometimes he would let himself cry about it. Minho was lonely and sad and scared because here he was twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. And still, nothing, alone, afraid, depressed.  This year, his birthday was forgotten again, by himself, by co-workers, by friends and so Minho walked into the office, smoothed his old navy suit and schmoozed his way into the business deal, smiling and carrying on like he was used to because he had to and he dared not act any other way.

            But he didn’t know everything, obviously. As soon as Taemin heard the door lock and heard Minho’s wood-bottomed faux leather shoes click down the corridor, he had shot out of bed, not bothering to make it. What present would he get Minho? He checked Minho’s closet first. Trainers, trousers, shorts, plenty of underwear, everything was a checkmark on Taemin’s mental list. He investigated the bathroom. Yes, Minho had cologne, aftershave, and hair gel. Wow, Minho had a pretty impressive video collection. Not a single dirty one, Taemin noted, smirking to himself. His bookshelf was relatively full of cookbooks, books about football, magazines, novels and Taemin’s book. What didn’t Minho have? It was then that he spotted it, a glossy hardcover travel book packed with pictures of exotic, far off places taken by some fancy, expensive camera. Drawn to the book, Taemin picked it up and flipped through the slick pages, finding a bookmark squeezed between pages about Malaysia. Is that where Minho had always wanted to go? Taemin examined the book, looking at the places the travel had highlighted, places he had never heard of and didn’t even know how to pronounce. Yes, this is what Taemin would be getting Minho.

            So he sat down, opened the laptop and typed it in. Flights from Seoul to Kuala Lumpur. He found results, hundreds of them. He picked the second one, only because he always liked the number two and he typed in all necessary information. Two adults, one child. Child aged three. How many nights? When could they leave? Could Minho get time off? Taemin couldn’t very well call Minho and ask him. So he did the only thing he could think of. He opened a new tab on the browser and searched the company name, finding the number in no time. He dialled it, waiting until someone answered the phone.

            “Urbana Insurance, how may I help you?” a too-friendly woman answered.

            “Hi, I’m calling to speak with whoever is in charge of an employee there.”

            “Okay, and may I have the name of the employee?”

            “Choi Minho,” he said, and he could hear the tapping on a keyboard.

            “And who may I ask is calling?” She inquired.

            “Lee Taemin.”

            “Alright. I’m connecting you to his boss right now. Thank you and have a nice day!” She chirped.

            Taemin heard a beep before he could reply and he listened idly to the stupid on-hold music he was forced to listen to. He was in the middle of thinking about how great it would be if you could choose your own waiting music when someone picked the line up.

            “Hello, this is Kim Jonghyun. How may I be of assistance?”

            “Hello, Mr. Kim. I’m calling to ask about vacation time for one of your employees.”

            “Oh? For who?”

            “Choi Minho.” Taemin repeated, getting slightly annoyed.

            “Oh, Choi! A great employee. When is he planning on leaving?” Kim Jonghyun asked.

            “Well, see, Mr. Kim, it’s a surprise. It’s his birthday and I’m planning on taking him on a trip, but I wanted to see how much vacation time he could get so I can plan accordingly.” He said, playing with a loose string he’d found.

            “Choi just made a huge business deal so I’m very grateful to him. I was wondering how to reward him... Where are you planning on going?”

            “Malaysia.”

            Kim Jonghyun whistled. “How about from Friday the 12th until Christmas day for official vacation? He won’t have to come in until the following Monday because of the weekend. I’ll continue paying him at 75% his current rate until that Monday, when his raise will start being in effect.”

            “Oh, wow. Thank you so much, Mr. Kim! Just please don’t tell him until tomorrow.”

            “Sure, no problem. Enjoy your vacation.”

            Now that Taemin had information, he completed the form online and purchased the tickets. Once the tickets printed, he sprinted into action, packing his things and Inho’s things, careful not to wake the sleeping toddler. Once he was satisfied with his packing (He’d made sure he packed everything), he started a simple breakfast for himself and Inho. Frozen pancakes met the griddle and cups were filled with milk. Once he finished, he went to wake Inho.

            “Inho-ya, wake up! Breakfast!”

            Inho sat up and frowned, still tired. He allowed himself to be carried by his father, but squinted once he saw who was missing.

            “Minho appa,” he stated, pursing his lips. “Where Minho appa?”

            “He’s at work. You know that.” Taemin said, putting the child down in his seat.

            Inho frowned again, taking the mini-fork into his small hands. They both began to eat, Inho silent through most of it. By the time he’d finished, he was no longer sleepy and he roamed into the living room to play with blocks that Minho had stacked up neatly but would soon be scattered across the room by Inho. Taemin cleaned the kitchen, which wasn’t particularly hard to do as it was nearly pristine in the first place.

            Had Minho really lived such a clean life? Hygienically and morally, Minho was the cleanest slate Taemin had ever seen. It irked him a little bit, just a little because who was Minho, his hyung, to be so innocently clean and pure? And it didn’t irk Taemin just because it was Minho who was clean, but because now Taemin, who hadn’t ever thought of this before, was dirty. Oh yes, if Minho was clean, Taemin was the dirtiest person he could have thought of. He had always been in love with Minho, he knew, but he had gone and led the poor girl on. He had gone and had a child whilst Minho kept clean for Taemin. God, did Taemin feel guilty. It was going to eat away at him slowly, but today wasn’t the day for this to happen.

            He tossed his hair out of his face and threw the dirty rag into the sink. There, he thought. Some dirtiness to hyung’s life and he walked to Inho and helped Inho play and spread toys and dirty the place and by the time Minho came home, he almost had a heart attack from the sight.

            Toys, everywhere. Cups and dishes piled in the sink. Spilled juice. Minho swore he could hear flies buzzing and then he saw it, the suitcases resting comfortably in the hallway, stuffed with clothing. He could hear his heart pounding, feel the vibrations rack his chest, his breathing hitch. No, Taemin, please don’t go! He wanted to scream. He dropped his bag and rushed into the flat, furious, betrayed, confused and most of all afraid. Afraid that Taemin left him again, afraid he’d lost his love again, just so scared.

            “Taemin?!” He yelled, voice rushing around the corners, so loud but not loud enough to rouse the younger one. Taemin’s lack of a reply terrified him. “Taemin!” He barrelled through the door, startling Taemin into waking. “What the hell are you doing?!”

            Taemin jumped back. “W-what?”

            “Where are you going?” He demanded.

            “Hyung, I was going to tell you...”

            Minho held a hand up. “Weren’t you begging me to make a choice, Tae? Now I made the choice, I said that I would try to let you in my heart and I damn well did and you’re just going to leave like this?”

            “No hyung--”

            “I thought I was doing well. Hell, Tae, I even worked my off so that I can make more money for us all, so I could buy things for Inho and groceries. But throw it all away if you want. Just do it.”

            “Hyung, listen to me!”

            “Why should I listen?” Minho raged, fist shaking.

            “I’m not leaving you! I wouldn’t ever leave you, hyung! I told you that! I just wanted to surprise you for your birthday!”

            Minho faltered. “My birthday? Is today my birthday?” His eyebrows creased in confusion.

            “Seriously, hyung? Today is the 9th of December. It’s your twenty-fourth birthday and I just wanted to surprise you.”

            Minho squinted, a habit Inho had picked up from him. “What? Surprise? By leaving the house a mess and scaring the crap out of me?”

            “I had a problem earlier, but that’s not the point. I wanted to take you somewhere you’d always wanted to go. Malaysia? You’d like that, right? I packed for Inho and I, but I didn’t know what you’d want to wear, so your suitcase is still open.” Taemin blinked. “I didn’t mean to make you think... Why would I leave you, hyung?”

            Minho ignored the question. “How did you know I like Malaysia?”

            “I saw your travel book. I called your boss, he said it was okay. So I booked the trip. About two weeks in Malaysia, visiting the places the book says are good places to visit. The three of us. Our family, hyung.”

            Minho shyed away. “I’m sorry Taemin. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He paused chewing lightly on his bottom lip. “I was scared,”

            “Don’t be, hyung.” he said, inching closer to Minho, taking his hand in his own. “I love you and we’re going to be together forever.”

            “Promise?”

            “Till death do us part.” Taemin said, leaning forward. Just like that, he kissed Minho softly, letting the older get a feel for what a kiss was like, forming his lips to meet Minho’s, feeling Minho’s quickened breath on his face. No doubt Minho was burning with embarrassment, but he made no move to end the kiss. Taemin resisted the urge to smirk, deepening the kiss with such precision that Minho forgot to breathe for just a second and by the time they pulled away, Minho felt like he’d suffocated under some corny ocean of admiration.

            “Happy birthday, hyung.”