The scooter made ridiculously loud put-put-put noises at the red signal. Everyone around them stared. Minho wished he'd carried one of his many scarves along so he could hide his face. Even the traffic policeman looked at them with a confused frown--as if deciding whether they'd earned themselves a ticket or not.

This is so embarrassing, he thought to himself.

The problem with Kibum was his Theory of Moderated Extremism--a motorcycle would be too extreme and dangerous according to him, so he'd bought himself a second-hand piece-of-crap scooter with his part-time money... and painted it black.

Because black is extreme as , man! he imagined the other's passionate face shining at him.

Riding in the backseat always gave Minho a headache that had nothing to do with the heavy helmet Kibum vehemently insisted he wear. He didn't say anything, though, just coiled his hands around the other's waist and pressed in close, hoping dearly he didn't lose his life in an auto accident. Besides, he preferred keeping their arguments indoors.  

"So this Jinki guy," Kibum's voice floated over to him. He leaned over and rested his chin on a bony shoulder. So he could hear better above the sounds of honking and traffic. "He sounds old. Balding, even. I bet he uses a walking stick, like some classy- bastard."

"He's only in his twenties..." Minho supplied with a defensive pout. "And very handsome..." he added in a quieter tone.

"And very handsome, bleh bleh~" Kibum wiggled in his seat as he did an exaggeratedly ugly imitation. "If I'd known you'd be into the geriatrics, I'd never have asked you out in the first place. Youthfully y namja that I am."

Minho quetly laughed despite himself, digging his nose into the nape of Kibum's neck, tightening his hold around the other's waist. "Sorry," he apologized, even when there was no need for him to. "After the lecture I'll treat you to something nice to eat, hmm? Something sweet? How about that?"

Kibum turned his neck to look at Minho out the corner of his heavily made-up eye. "Man I hope that's a ual innuendo," he said before speeding away just a second before the signal turned green, prompting a shrill eep! from a cowering Minho.

They'd missed the school bus to the lecture. So it didn't surprise Minho when the parking lot of the COEX was empty as a graveyard when the two of them arrived in a skidding hurry. It also didn't surprise him when their Chemistry teacher glared at them in the lobby and hissed a "You were told to be here an hour ago! Now take the side entrance or they won't let you in!"

What did surprise him was the hundred odd eyes that flicked in his direction as Kibum flung open the auditorium door noisily.

Very noisily.

"We're here!" Kibum announced to the nearby vicinity of their classmates, arms held out to his sides in an ill-placed magnanimous gesture. Minho wanted to shrivel up and die. "Make way, make way, oh sorry, hey nice pants man," the other mumbled as he kicked his way to the middle of a row of seating.

Minho really missed his scarves.

Once they were seated and the announcer had cleared , back from being dazed at the interruption, he turned to his boyfriend. Flashing an exemplary facsimile of a smile, teeth tightly grit, vein popping at his temple, Minho spat out a, "Why, Bum."

"You didn't call me by my full name," the other simply pointed out. "That means you're not really angry. Stop acting." The dimply grin directed at him made him shut up, crossing his arms at his front and slumping in his seat.

"Go jump in a well," he cursed, too low for anyone to hear.

"Radioisotopes," Minho heard the man of his waking dreams address him, the voice slipping through his ears like silk; its timbre so low, so sensually low in its god-like baritone... and yet so soft, so gentle, as if making to carress Minho's sense of hearing itself. Like the voice of an angel.

Truthfully Professor Jinki was addressing the entire audience, but at that point of time Minho wanted to dream he was the only audience present. 

"I'm sure you've all been taught the basics:  for production, a stable isotope is bombarded with fast neutrons produced in a nuclear reactor or a particle accelerator. The stable isotope is changed into an unstable isotope of the same element... bla bla bla~" he jovially directed at the front row. "And even if you haven't, it's all very boring stuff I assure you."

The charismatic man walked around the stage as he spoke to the students. Minho studied his every feature with absolute care. His attire was casual (faded jeans and a Beavis and Butthead shirt) but didn't seem out of place in the least because of the way he carried it off with such ease. His stature was well-built too, and extremely attractive for a man who spent mind-numbing amounts of time in a research lab (Minho heard a few girls in the row behind him softly gush utterances of "oppa~") 

"Now you must remember. These are unstable atoms of a chemical element, which have a different number of neutrons in the nucleus, but the same number of protons and the same chemical properties," his animatedly gesturing hands looked soft but big, and Minho found himself thinking of what the would feel like in his own skinny hands, o-on his own skinny b-body--

"Oye," Kibum nudged him. Minho almost jumped. "You're drooling. Wipe it. I don't want to drown." He was offered a tissue which he promptly snatched and swiped over his mouth, promptly redirecting his attention to the speaker.

"Many live for only minutes. Their existence is measured in “half-lives,” which is how long it takes for half of the isotope to disappear, decompose. Smaller the proton linear accelerators, shorter the life of the element." Pens scratched around the hall in a flurry of notes. Minho himself didn't take down anything, he already knew all this from his midnight reading in the summer vacation.

"Radioisotopes, we know, emit gamma rays. Today they're used in medical diagnostics, to provide information about how certain organs-- like the thyroid, bones, heart, liver-- how these organs are functioning," he paused dramatically. "Without the need for intrusive surgery." Some of the students gasped, others stayed silent. "Radioisotopes can also be used to image the progress of certain treatments, such as shrinking tumors. The radiation does not stay in the body, and there are no side-effects. Isn't that excellent?"

Minho nodded, fully aware that no one would be able to see in the dark of the auditorium. He was too awe-struck to be mindful of himself anymore. Kibum pulled him back to the backrest of his chair saying he'll strain himself, but Minho tutted and shook the other off.

Jinki took a sip from a glass of water, then continued. Minho sat with his chin in his hands, as if listening to a very interesting poetry recital. "A lot of students ask me-- Professor, what is the point of an atom that only lives a few seconds... then dies."

Minho shifted to the edge of his seat like a spectator of a very gripping and very live football match. Kibum scoffed beside him, probably shook his head too, but he was given no attention.

"It's quite a philosphical question, isn't it?" Jinki chuckled, and some students in the front rows politely chuckled with him. "And the answer I give them is equally philosophical. If a half life saves you from half a life... there's a very big point to what we do."

Minho's jaw hung open as a few people began to applaud. He joined in with much vigor, almost hooting like a rowdy fanboy at a rock concert. But Kibum's stern glare stopped him when he turned to look, hoping to share his excitement with the other. His enthusiasm deflated a little, and he shifted back into his wide seat.

"S-sorry," he apologized, once again needlessly.

Minho walked out (more like floated out) of the backstage room to find an irritated Kibum tapping his foot in wait for him. Regardless of the protests of you've been in there for forty five minutes, were you poaching eggs? he raised the square of paper up above his head as if it were a trophy. And if life would've been just a little more generous, there would have been victorious background music playing to accompany the action. 

But there wasn't. And Kibum's non-plussed face made that fact quite obvious.

"Look, Kibum..." Minho gushed, holding the paper out between them with much reverance. It shook in his palms, edges fluttering like a scared bird. His cheeks were swathed in a heavy blush, his breath came out raspy and a little broken at the edges, his lips were stretched in a wobbly smile. All in all he looked far too overwhelmed for an onlooker to say he'd just met with a scientist. "Look at the beauty that is--"

"Ew, is that a dissected cockroach?!" Kibum loudly questioned, taking a disgusted step away from Minho.

The corridor around them fell deathly silent, all eyes turning towards them in blank stares. And if life would've been just a little less generous there would be no sound of invisible crickets. But there was. And for a second time Minho wanted to wrap himself up in a cocoon of his scarves, just to be invisible to the whole world.

"Bum, this is an autograph."

"Whaaaat." Kibum leaned in to take a closer look. "His handwriting is grooooooss," he dragged out his pronunciations, but thankfully kept his voice low. "A-and... what is that below the... is that--?! What the fuu-- is this a phone number?!" he exclaimed, then raised his eyes to look at Minho. "That e!" he suddenly yelled, then started to make his way backstage, fists raised and invisible sleeves rolled up. 

"I'll kill him! Did he touch you in inappropriate places?! Let me get my hands on him--I'll show him who--"

Minho dragged an unwilling Kibum out by the collar, fighting against all the flailing and wriggling trying to stop him having his way. All the way to the parking lot. Not stopping even when one of his teachers shrieked a Kim Kibum mind your language! in their trail. Not stopping even when one of the students' parents yelped when his elbow accidentally hit them in the face. Not stopping even when the other asked him to stop because he had to get his scooter keys out of his pocket.

"What the hell, HoHo?" Kibum asked as he finally freed himself from the other's hold, straightening his shirt, genuinely annoyed. "What is with you acting so immature all day--?!"

"I'm acting immature?!" Minho shushed back, because while he hated fighting in public, he also hated unwanted attention from strangers. "Kibum, you always do this. Whenever we go out, whenever we sit together for lunch, whenever we do anything, you always make a scene! I'm getting so tired of explaining the situation to people and making excuses for you. I am seriously so tired, Bum. Why can't you for once--!"

"Oh, I make a scene, is it?" the other growled, swinging his leg across his vehicle and pulling it out of the parking lot in reverse. "I'm an embarrassment to you, is that what you're saying, Choi?! Fine, then. Go be by yourself," was all he shouted before starting the ignition and driving away.

Minho stood gaping at the other's fast disappearing back, not even caring that people were watching the commotion Kibum had created. He slumped tiredly in his place. "How do I get home...?"

"Didn't I say that boy is trouble for you?" Minseok lectured the windshield of his car. "Why do you hang out with him anyway? He's not good at academics like you, he's not on the football team with you. He's not even the kind of boy I see as a good friend... for anybody, let alone you. Why are you with him?" 

Minho sat in the passenger seat with his head bowed as if in shame. The precious autograph sat tucked deeply in his pant pocket but he didn't even worry about it creasing or tearing. Not right now. Not when Kibum was the only thing swirling in his head. "I told you. He's my best friend." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like lying to his brother, it left an ashen after-taste in his mouth. 

"What if he gets you kicked out of the school because of his behaviour?" the elder flicked on the turning signal before they entered their neighbourhood lane. "That would look terrible on your record, Minho yah. Not to mention Ma and Pa would flip."

"That won't happen," Minho defended readily (too readily), looking out of his window at the another car driving beside them. "Kibum is not like that." 

When they slowed to the sidewalk abutting their house, Minseok carefully drove in and parked the car, switching off the engine, but not opening his door yet. He unlatched his seat-belt and turned to face Minho in earnest. "He's not bullying you, is he?" came the quiet inquiry, concern playing shadows on the elder's face.

Minho laughed loudly. "Everyday."

I LIKE INORGANIC CHEMISTRY AND MINBROS SOMETIMES AT THE SAME TIME OK SO WHAT So. What do you guys think of this... messy... not yet resolved... still raw piece of writing? 

Let me know <3

~IQ