Minho's phone unexpectedly rang the following morning, when it was still bright and early and even before he was out of bed. He lazily crawled out of the covers and made his way to the table, where his phone had been discarded. He looked at the incoming number. "Taeyeon" was still ascribed to it.

He really needed to change that.

"Hello," he answered groggily.

"Are you free Friday night?" Taemin asked bluntly, not bothering with greetings or friendly small talk.

"Yeah...why?"

"Do you want to come over to my place? I'll...cook something," he added awkwardly.

Minho paused for a moment, trying to understand where the unexpected conversation was going. He certainly couldn't be asking him out on a date.

"Okay...why?"

Taemin took a deep breath before answering. "My mother wants to meet you."

Minho followed in behind Taemin as he opened the door to the apartment. He summed up the small, cozy area with one glance. In that one glance, he realized just how much of a void his mother's death had left in his life.

Taemin's home, though small, was inviting. It just had that touch that living with a mother brought. Minho was faced with that said mother as she sat on the couch, expecting the both of them.

It had been nearly a week since Taemin's incident with Jonghyun, and his bruise was now all but gone. In that time, Minho found himself spending time with Taemin like he used to - during his break and after he got out of work.

Certainly, things were different than they had been before. There was no holding hands and definitely no kissing. But they talked like they used to, and Minho found himself enjoying Taemin more as a friend than he had Taeyeon has a girlfriend.

So there they were on a Friday night, walking into his home together. He felt like he was meeting a girlfriend's parents...only weirder.

"Hi, mom," Taemin greeted her simply, leading Minho into the living room. "Was everything alright today?"

"It was fine," she said with a pleasant smile on her face as she watched her son, as if oblivious to his attire. "How was your day at work?"

"It was good." He then turned to Minho and awkwardly gestured to him. "Mom, this is Minho. Minho...my mother."

"It's nice to meet you," he said formally.

"It's nice to meet you, too. My son has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" He wondered just how much Taemin had mentioned about their relationship.

The said boy looked a little awkward as he stood there. "I'll be right back," he said, before leaving the living room and disappearing behind one of the bedroom doors.

Minho was left alone with his mother, underneath her unwavering stare. Though she looked neither harsh nor unfriendly, he got the feeling she was scrutinizing him.

"Would you do me a favor and help me to the table, Minho?" she asked, extending her hand to him, "I'm not quite as well as I used to be."

"Of course." He closed the gap between them and took her hand, carefully helping her stand from the couch. He let her rest her body weight against him as he led her to the kitchen table.

Taemin had once mentioned to him that his mother was sick, but he could never bring himself to ask about it. On the surface, he thought she looked well and healthy, but he knew more than most that mothers had a way of hiding from their children what they didn't want them to see.

Minho took a seat at the table and waited there awkwardly for a moment, wondering if he should start a conversation. He didn't know what he could say though.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, relieving him of the responsibility. She now looked very serious, void of the pleasant expression she had given her son.

"Of course."

"Were you the one that hit my son?"

"No, ma'am," he answered immediately, shocked that she would come to that conclusion. Taemin said he didn't tell her the truth about what had happened, but obviously she was more aware than he thought.

"Do you know who did?"

He nodded awkwardly.

"Do I have to worry about it happening again?"

"I doubt it. The fight wasn't exactly one sided."

She didn't seem at all comforted by his answer, and he wondered if it was the wrong thing to tell her.

"But the hickey on his neck, you did that, didn't you?"

As if things couldn’t get anymore awkward...

He felt his face heat up nervously under her serious stare. He wasn't even aware he had kissed him that hard. "That...was probably me."

"Are you sleeping with my son?"

"No, ma'am," he said even quicker than the last time, "I don't like men. Neither does he. We're just friends. That's all. Honestly. The thing on his neck was from before I knew."

She seemed satisfied with his answer, but once again, not comforted by it. The table became silent. She stared down at nothing and Minho caught a glimpse of the weariness she had been trying so hard to hide before. "I worry about him so much," she confided, surprising him, "That boy hasn't been the same since his father died."

Their uncomfortable conversation was cut short when Taemin reemerged from his bedroom. Minho was surprised to see a completely transformed man. He wore a t-shirt and jeans. His long hair was pulled up in a ponytail and the make-up was washed from his face.

It was the first time he had ever seen him dressed like a boy.

Though he was still very feminine and pretty, he looked completely different.

His mother once again hid her weariness with a smile, pretending like the awkward conversation had never happened. If only Minho was as good at disguising it. Taemin seemed to know that something was up. He didn't say anything though. He simply looked at the two of them, before starting preparations for the meal.