Minho woke up to a billion stars blinking at him. They sprinkled his bed with innumerable lights, bathed him in colors he never knew existed. Until now. A world of stars smiling at a world of darkness under his sprawled arms; far too many to fit in a single sky. Perhaps there were two skies then, overlapped by each other, sliding against one another. Perhaps one sky was his.

Perhaps the other was Kibum’s.

He smiled at the thought, feeling fingers trickle over his arms like bare running feet. He turned his head away shyly, every inch of him changing into something else under the fingers as they gained another inch on his skin. Sparks of fire spat out in the air when the touch grew into a palm, holding him and pulling him closer. Time jumped and faltered, slipped and turned within the cup of his own hand as he lifted it up to hide his blush. Every passing second danced to his wishes. He could order it to stop and it would, leaving the two of them alone for the rest of their paused lives.

He grinned as he wrapped a blanket of Kibum over himself. It was a decoration, like he was being completed with dabs of color he'd been missing all his life… Like the other’s hands were smearing their black charcoal and ink over his every muscle. Over his stomach, against his waist, along his back, even across his forehead. It was a stamp. It was a mark, pressed permanently onto his flesh. It made him feel like he was gradually starting to belong to Kibum, and Kibum was beginning to become his.

Lips pressed to the back of his neck, tracing sounds to tell him he was beautiful he was perfect he was everything.

Minho hummed that song Kibum always played on repeat, little chuckles of appreciation hitting below his ear, vermillion dripping from the sound. The fragrance of cherry blossoms sprinkled onto them and he giggled ticklishly. Strong arms squeezed him tighter, jangling the bells that hung above his bed by the force of the motion. Minho studied their bronze curves oscillate on top his head, jangling hypnotically. The stars still twinkled beyond these dizzying, wavering motions. He tried to reach up for them, but there were too many to gather in one fist. He let it go, let the adoration rain on him as it pleased.

"Minho goon," Kibum said to him. But in a strange voice. Different. Deeper. Smoother. More grown-up. "Shall I meet your parents for their permission?"

Minho frowned, whipped around in confusion at the words. And two large wings took up his entire vision, blinding him with their expanse of pure white. He urgently reached out to touch them, but they flapped once and lifted him off the bed, into the overly-starry sky. Through the cluster of dangling temple bells he rose— above the flimsy mosquito net, above the rusty ceiling fan, through the mossy roof and towards a canvas of unending black. Dotted only by one single spray of white plumage. He flew with the other into the two joined skies that called for them to rise… higher and higher and higher.

Soft blonde hair rubbed into his forehead. Stubby fingers played the piano on his face, bright amber eyes ripped his cheeks to blushed red. Whispers of chemical heat sighed against his lips. A gentle smile kissed him with so much reverence it hurt to look. And yet… and yet looking away was impossible. Minho started to fade, but brighten at the same time. He began flickering in and out of existence with each breath his lungs allowed in or pushed out. His blood tingled with an odd pull towards the other, towards the arms holding him up in the middle of a spangled sky; every cell tethered to the crystal white feathers of those wings.

"You’re my angel," the angel said to Minho in the sweetest, most loving way. It shook out a staggered breath, making him fall backwards from the force as his legs draped around the other’s waist. "You’re my world, Minho goon," the being blessed him with the confession, carressing the boy's waist, digging his fingers into flexing muscles, ellipses that stung like a wet ache. Minho's arms raised themselves around his head, his eyes closed tightly against the most dazzling sky he’d ever seen, his senses let go in the sultry burn all over his body. Because those stars had obviously been lying to him, fooling him into believing it was night when it was actually day.

And Jinki was the sun.

He was the dappled sunlight on Minho's chest, he was the crackling heat inside his parted thighs. Minho was being ruined bit by bit with the thought of Jinki running circles within his head, chasing one shred of passion but leaving another block of peace behind. Minho’s day started with Jinki blazing at him with all his might, and ended with every blink of his eyes. A hundred days they stayed together, a hundred days the angel held him close and a hundred days they were tied to that moment— inescapable. Jinki danced like an arrow, like a double-edged sword that would always meet its mark. And Minho was convinced he'd happily accept every attack on himself.

"Minho," Jinki called. The sky blotted orange, darkness dissolving into radiance. The clouds opened their arms in a welcoming embrace. The moon was cleaned of its imperfections.

"Minho?" Kibum whispered from behind, snaking his arms around Minho and hissing into his ear. He craned his neck back in shock.

"Minho~" the both tugged from opposite sides of the world. He arched his spine in ecstasy as two existences poured into him at the same time, trying to fight for him, trying to win him over to their respective sides, trying to fill him till there was nothing left to fill. "Minho… Minho… Minho…." They tugged and pulled and pried till he felt himself tear down the middle, crying out for them to keep pulling harder, harder… harder!

"Minho!" Choi eomoni shook him. "Look at the time! You’re late for school! What’re you doing still in b—sweetie… are you feeling OK? What’s wrong? You look pale. Omo, it’s your first day at the internship too. I don’t how you’ll manage all this at the same time. What if you fall ill…" she nagged on.

Minho rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He his lips, cringing at his own morning breath. The dregs of his dream disappeared with every blink and somehow it made him feel sad. Something told him he wanted to remember what it had been about. He dragged himself out of bed and into his everyday routine.

“OK, give me your helmet,” Kibum demandingly flapped his palm open and shut as soon as they came to a halt. Minho swung himself off to the pavement, handing back the heavy thing sitting on top of his head, groaning once he was free of the weight. Its only use was not messing up his side parting, Kibum’s driving would kill them one day, safety helmet on or not. He still ran a hand through his hair, checking it on a side mirror of the scooter.

“Now, give me a kiss,” Kibum said in an equally flat tone, like it was the most reasonable request in the world… which it wasn’t. Because they were stalled right outside a nationally renowned cancer research facility, across a service lane of parked cars, some of them still occupied. Not to mention the guards that stood outside the entrance, carefully studying the movements of two odd high-school students and their overly noisy absolutely ugly vehicle.

“Ah, no,” Minho refused.

“Why? And don’t give me that ‘we’re not legal’ bull. Who the hell is society to judge whether we can date or not? I say down with the system altogether for trying to run my life according to its—”

“Bum, I’m getting late.”

The other sighed with dissatisfaction. “Alright, give me your hand then,” he discounted, interlocking their fingers and running a thumb over Minho’s knuckles. “Today is your first day,” he started in a strangely ceremonial tone. “You are on your way to becoming a fine thang, now, and many oldies will drool over that fact. One of them is your Professor Playboy. Ah-ah, shh! Don’t interrupt!” he put a warning finger to his lips when Minho protested the need for such an embarrassing speech.

He covered his face with his free hand instead.

“If you make a boo-boo in there, and the man tries to comfort you or get too close to you or breathe against your lab coat, or even touch you inappropriately like caress your head and shush you or something—”

“How is that inappropriate?!”

“It is in my world.”

“Then what is this?!” Minho raised their locked hands up between them.

“.”

“Oh my Hades—Kibum, I’m leaving. Right now. Let go of me or I will tell those buff guards you’re planning on setting loose a spider monkey into the building. They’ll chase you around for hours, OK?” he threatened, leaving the other’s grasp and beginning to walk towards the doorway, but turning around after a few steps and walking back. “And what did you mean boo-boo?!” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Kibum shrugged, revving his scooter annoyingly. Some people glared at him from across the parking lot. “You might accidentally drink a lethal concoction of cyclohexanol, sodium dichromate and sulphuric acid just because of the pretty color, rendering you dead within seconds of ingestion. Or you could leave a Bunsen burner on and unknowingly breathe all that volatile gas till you become Sylvia Plath The Second.”

“Dude,” Minho gaped, suddenly not feeling so sure of himself. “That’s a serious boo-boo…”

Kibum slapped his forehead. “I’m joking, you idiot. Nothing can go wrong. You were practically tailor-made for this thing, and you know that better than anyone. Everything will be fine, nothing will go wrong. And even if it does, you have a phone. Give me one call and I will take you away, OK?” he nodded, then switched off his engine when Minho didn’t respond.

“OK?” he asked once more, holding out his arm.

Minho unsurely took it again, giving the outstretched palm a squeeze and a reassured smile. “OK. I’ll call you. And don’t pick me up after, I’ll take the bus, alright?” he said, nodding and waving, leaving to go. “Bye~” he called when he was as close to the entrance as he could get without being asked for his student ID.

He turned around, took a deep, steadying breath, and once the guards nodded for him to enter after a long minute of scrutiny, he walked in.

Indoors, he passed through a metal detector without incident and a lady immediately beckoned him from the reception desk. He approached her while sliding out Professor Jinki’s autographed phone number from his pocket. “Hi, sweetie, are you here to see your parents?” she asked in a sugary voice, taking in his school uniform. The lip gloss was excessive, the body proportions were clearly plastic. Minho shook his head and showed her the weathered square of paper.

“Uhh, no actually. I was asked by Jinki ssi to come in as an intern starting today,” he explained, gaining some of his earlier confidence back with every word out of his mouth. “So… could you point me in the right direction?” he smiled tentatively.

The lady sat back into her chair, blinking at the signature. “Let me check with his PA, could you give me a minute, love?” she picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Why don’t you have a seat in the meantime?” she hushed, pointing to a waiting area where no one was actually waiting. Minho frowned at the sight, but obeyed.

The metal of the chairs bit into his skin even through his clothes. He shifted uncomfortably, eyes roving over the high glass front and the higher ceiling. Everything was silent in the giant space except for the tiny stream trickling through a classy indoor water fountain, sides made of gleaming ceramic, water as clear as crystal. Even the flooring shone like it'd been polished and lain out just yesterday. It intimidated Minho a little, if he were honest, but very soon he'd be called up now to meet with the professor and--

"I'm sorry, sweetheart?" the receptionist lady called out for him. He jumped from his seat and walked back to her.

"Yes?"

"Were you supposed to call Professor Lee before you came in today?"

Minho opened and shut his mouth like a dying fish, feeling just about ready to hyperventilate into a mess on the floor. "Y-yes, but I..." Of course. Of course he'd forget such an important thing. Of course he'd walk in without an appointment and make a fool of himself. Of course, Choi Minho you absolute moron, you'd botch this absolutely and completely and lose your big opportunity to--

"He's coming down here, you can have a word with him then."

Minho shook with fright.

He wasn’t asthmatic, but he was in definite need of an inhaler.

Because there was Lee Jinki, walking out of the elevators with his PA in tow, reviewing over something on a shared iPad and furiously reciting something for her to type out simultaneously. His steps were too fast, his face too unreadable. Minho had heard that some of the most successful people in the world had the most undetectable anger issues, behavior often boiling over to violent altercations. If he was going to get yelled at for being the idiot he was, he’d have to brace himself

Collision course, he thought to himself from somewhere in the dark depths of his head. Warning, warning. Impact in 3… 2… 1…

“Ah, Minho goon! Come-come-come, we have no time; no time at all!” Jinki clapped his hand impatiently, swishing past him to the exit of the building, still addressing the lady next to him. He turned around mid-sentence when he noticed still Minho gawking, feet fixed to his place. “Come on! Quickly!” he clicked his fingers irritably.

“S-sir!” he fumbled forward in shock, almost tripping over his own feet.

“Sierra, I want a copy of this printed and sent over to the Mayor’s office as soon as possible. It’s important he gets the minutes of this meeting at the earliest because I want him to be able to review the information for the next time the board meets with the government officials— Minho, why’re you just standing here with your mouth open, go sit in the car!” he snapped.

Minho flinched and scampered outdoors where a limousine awaited his frightened sight.

He looked around, trying to search for any clues as to what exactly he was supposed to do with himself. He fretted with the straps of his school bag, eyes wildly sweeping for some sign of help in the vicinity. And just when he was about to turn back around and ask what Jinki meant, he felt a hand take hold of his arm, pulling him along with careless haste. He let out a surprised squawk and stumbled along as the other pulled him to the large black car.

“In you get,” the professor said, holding open a door. Minho climbed in like his life depended on it, spraining his ankle in the process. He bit his lip to keep the whimper in as the door was shut after him, seeing Jinki walk around the back of the car and get in beside him from the other door. “Park ssi, Ministry of Education, please,” he said leaning forward and addressing the driver once he was settled in his seat.

“Yes, sir.”

“Uhm,” Minho looked from one man to the other, squirming with unease. “Seonsaengnim... Am I being… punished?” he wanted to know, that earlier flood of nervousness washed aside by a torrent of new disquiet. If he was going to be yelled at for his carelessness, he preferred to get it over with as soon as possible.

Jinki looked at him with eyebrows raised, unraveling a tie and fixing it around his neck. “Hmm? Oh! No, don’t worry about that misunderstanding,” he flapped his wrist dismissively. “I’m actually glad you showed up today. See, I’m supposed to be meeting with the Education Minister about introducing a new publication of secondary level science textbooks. One that doesn't contain basic nonsense that embarrasses me to even skim through." He mumbled a few more curses as he tightened the tie.

"And I want you there as the perfect example of what we could achieve with that idea,” he finished, smoothing his hands over the front of his shirt.

“M-me?!” Minho pointed to his nose in disbelief.

“Of course~” the man smiled, the sudden jovial disposition a polar opposite of what it was only a few minutes ago. “Your principal e-mailed me a copy of the essay you wrote based on my paper. I read it.” He nodded, eyes narrow and smile faint. He shifted closer to Minho, an arm stretching out behind them as if they were a couple on a date to the movies. Minho's eyes fluttered, he squeezed into himself and blushed at that thought.

“You know most of what I’d published at the time was shelved by the National Research Institute as wild conjuncture— diplomatic speak for ‘bull’,” Jinki spoke in a low tone, somehow easy to liken to a romantic whisper because of their proximity. Minho shyly peeked at the man out the corner of his eyes, quickly darting his gaze away and smiling a tiny smile.

“I-I wouldn’t call it that at all, sir…” he revealed.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Jinki agreed. “Because your little essay made mincemeat of all my research, didn’t it?” he complimented, looking at Minho with interest, smile blooming to a grin, breath fanning the side of Minho's cheek. The space between them felt taut, pulling tighter and tighter till… t-till they would end up touching so intimately that—

A palm slapped Minho’s thigh enthusiastically. “You’re a genius, aren’t you?” Jinki appreciated loudly as the boy jumped and yelped. “I’m so glad we’ve met, Minho goon!” And that was the last of their conversation for the rest of the ride.  

Sorry updates are taking so long. I'm done resolving the end of this story but I'm still fleshing out the road to it, which is confusing as hell cause I don't know what piece of the puzzle goes where, they all look the same to me and ah I've stopped making sense.

I'll go now. **slinks away**

~IQ