Minho’s POV

I step out of the wooden, barrel-like bathtub, running a hand through my damp hair. I pull the plug and watch the soapy, slightly pink water slowly swirl away. I turn and look at my body in the mirror, wincing at the sight.

There’s an ugly bruise near the upper part of my hip that’s covering part of my ribs. I near the mirror, every move feeling like I’m being ing stabbed. I take in the scars, some old and some just forming, on my chest and arms.

“Those s really did a number on me,” I snarl as I lean over the sink and touch the cut under my eye. I wince away from the sting. My chest is dotted in blue and purple, some of my old scars splitting from the immense swelling. Even though I’d washed myself three times already, I still can’t get the fear of infection out of my head.

Oh well,I think as I grab a robe from the rack next to the door. It’s warm and fluffy. I put it on and tie the sash, cringing as it ends just above my knees. Just for good measure, I put on a pair of damp boxers and step into the bedroom.

Taemin, in all his freshly-showered, wet-haired, gracefully robed glory, is kneeling on the tatami-mat floor and staring at the shoji that divides our two rooms. He looks like a prince, despite his fluffy bathrobe, and my fist clenches at the thought. He looks so beautiful… So goddamn unearthly beautiful. And he’s a damn liar.

I thought you were poor. I thought you didn’t have much growing up. I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong, I think bitterly. As if on cue, he turns and looks at me. He gets on his feet and turns, as if expecting me to approach him. I want to stay back, just to spite him, but I can’t resist. I cross the mat, passing the dresser and the simple mirror. He backs up tantalizingly until he almost trips on the bed that’s pressing up against the shoji. Then he stops and finally lets me near him.

“Does anything hurt?” I ask as I come so close to pressing up against him. His face ends up inches from mine, and he looks up at me with a tired smile.

“No,” he says, reaching up and touching my cheeks. I wince as his fingertips brush over the cut.

“It’s fine,” I murmur. He’s so beautiful… So gentle… I can’t stay mad at him. I can’t hold a grudge against him, because judging by what I’ve experienced, he needed that lie.

“My brothers are such s,” he growls, looking at the floor furiously. I chuckle at his anger, like a cute puppy barking incessantly at his master. I tilt his face back to meet mine, my eyes flicking over it. He’s got a split lip and a cut on his forehead. His cheek is still slightly red from being hit, and his jaw-line is spotted with purple.

“They did a real number on you,” I murmur, brushing his bangs from his forehead. He takes my hand and presses it to his cheek, as if it were some treasure.

“Now you can see why I don’t really talk to them… or think about them,” he snarls, his eyes fixed on my wrist. I turn my hand to cup his face.

“It’s alright,” I whisper. He leans into me, hugging my waist.

“I let you get hurt,” he mutters angrily into my chest. “You’re so important to me, and I let you get hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt that much,” I say softly, trying to ignore the rapid pounding in my chest.

I’m important to you? Then why can’t I stay by your side? Then why can’t I be with you without hurting you? With a resigned sigh, I push him away a little and take another look at his wounds. “I’m going to get some water.”

“Alright,” he says with his eyes earnest in mine and his lips softly parted. I look at the split and I wince. I touch his cheek before turning and running. I can’t be near him. The more I’m with him the more I wonder what should be in my heart. What’s the meaning of the fast beating in my chest? Because even though I know I love him, what’s the point when we can’t admit it? Confess it?

When will we hold onto each other and not let go?

Taemin’s POV

I watch Minho flee. I watch him run from me and I feel my legs go weak. I sit heavily on the bed, feeling the hard mattress slump under me. Why does he always run? I’m not good with words. I can only show him how I feel, and he won’t let me. He won’t let me reach out and grasp him. He won’t let me embrace him.

“Minho… I think I might…” I swallow hard and close my eyes, feeling tears settle on the rim of my eyelids. One trickles down and stings my cut. I feel a hand under my chin and see Minho looking at me with absolute tenderness. He puts the wooden pail onto my bed and sits next to it, pressed against me.

“You’re going to get tears in your cut,” he whispers. I look away, unable to handle looking at his face any longer. My heart starts racing as he turns my face towards him again. He takes a rag from the pail and dabs it at my cuts. I close my eyes as water trickles down. He touches the one on my forehead. I wince at the sharp, needle-like pain.

“It hurts,” I whisper. I let my eyelids flutter open, half-wanting to look at him and half-wanting to stay in a place where I don’t have to deal with how much I like him. How much I want him. I feel his hand travel down under my eye, where he pats on the cut gently.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, his eyes fixed on his task. His gaze flickers up for just a moment, and I take his face into my hands to capture it.

“Thank you,” I say gently before my actions catch up with me. What am I doing? What am I thinking? I look down and release him, staring at his chest.

I can’t ruin this. What’s between us… I can’t destroy it like this, because right now, right here, wecan’t happen.

“Are you alright?” he asks. Tenderly, with all the care in the world, he lifts my face to meet his. I wish he wouldn’t be so gentle. I wish he wouldn’t make my heart flutter like this, because nothing good can come of it.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, but the tears escape nonetheless. One escapes down the crook of my cheek.

“You’re going to get tears in your cut,” he scolds. My cheeks heat up as he wipes them away with the dampened cloth.

“Minho, I…” I try to tell him. I want so badly, but I see the cuts on his face and I know that I can’t. I can’t throw it out on the line like this.

“You still have a cut on your lip, you know,” he murmurs. His eyes are intense as he asks for silent permission. I blink and press my lips together, swallowing the lump of anticipation in my throat. His deep hand turns gently forceful when I feel him drag me closer. I close my eyes for the inevitable kiss, reaching around his body automatically.

His lips close over my lower one, at the wound. I whimper with the sharp, paper-cut-like pain. He hums a soft apology before pulling away from me and switching to my upper lip. Then he goes back to the lower, at it. I gasp at the sting and he takes the chance to tease his tongue against mine. I moan as his mouth fastens over mine, and I cling tighter to his shoulders. His tongue and mine twist together, and we on the other’s lips and our tongues. We break apart for short breaths and then plunge back in. One of his arms swings across my shoulders and he hugs me closer.

“Minho…” My voice is a moan, out of my control. I can feel his other hand on the small of my back, his tongue flicking against my lips. His hot, wet muscle draws mine out and he on it, dragging a moan from my throat. It feels so good; I want to return the favor. Cheekily, I at his bottom lip and draw out his tongue. I the tip of it and open my mouth to take in more.

“Damn tease,” I hear him chuckle as he presses his mouth against mine. We moan together and my hands tangle in his hair. His arms pull me close and I press my body to his. His other hand roams my covered back, and I arch my body to fit his touches. It feels so good to be close to him.

Keep me like this. Keep me clutched to you. Let me hold you without something happening. Without someone being hurt. Let me… The last request is cut off as the door opens without warning, and I look over my shoulder, Minho’s tongue flicking a brief trail against my cheek before he pulls it back into his mouth. I do the same with my own when I realize who it is.

“H-hi,” I stammer out to the stunned maid. In all of her dull-robed, pinned-up hair glory (A/N- said glory: http://www.chinancient.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/tusu-wine-01.jpg), she looks like the very definition of “heart attack.” Her face is blanched, her jaw is dropped almost to the floor, and he hands are clenched around…

“Yoogeun!” Minho shouts. He reaches out and our son tugs his way out of the maid’s grasp. Minho breaks apart from me and runs out to meet him, scooping Yoogeun into the air.

“I-I didn’t mean to intrude,” the maid stammers out. My cheeks heat up and I swallow, hard, knowing where the things she’s seen are going.

“L-listen, you’re not going to tell anyone about this,” I say hastily, getting onto my feet. I grip her by the shoulders and shake her a little to snap her from her trance.

“O-of course, master Taemin,” she whimpers. I smile gently, and she lightens a little. “It’s true what they say, then.”

“Yes, I’m a f-“ I start bitterly, but she shakes her head and grins.

“No, about your smile,” she says. “The servants say you have a brilliant smile.”

“Th-thank you,” I stammer, loosening my grip. She bows.

“Excuse me, master Taemin.” She marches off, her shoes clacking down the hall. I watch her leave, smiling broadly. Even now, my friends are still here. They still remember me. With a smile on my face, I go back to Minho and my son.

“…and then they gave me a big bath!” Yoogeun’s concluding an epic tale about what had transpired during the two and a half hours he had been gone. His arms are stretched out wide, as if a bath can be measured by length.

“Really? That big?” Minho coos. He’s knelt on the floor, in front of a happily standing Yoogeun. Minho chuckles, amused.

“Did you have bath too, appa?” Yoogeun asks. Minho nods and rubs his damped hair all over Yoogeun’s face.

“Minho, stop torturing him,” I chide gently as I close the door. I go and kneel down next to Minho, putting my hands on Yoogeun’s little belly and tickling him.

“Appa, that feels wiggly!” he shrieks in delight as he doubles over. I pull him into my arms and cradle him. I feel him wriggle joyously, and Minho piles onto us, tickling Yoogeun mercilessly.

“Minho Appa Lion Tickle Attack!” Minho announces, roaring. I giggle along with Yoogeun as we try to squirm away from his assault. He ends up on top of me, Yoogeun clinging to me in the middle, his face a snapshot of pure bliss as he pecks me on the lips before rolling off. I feel my face heat up and my tongue feels like lead in my mouth as I try to yell at him.

“Y-you… M-Min… ARGH!” I sit up and Yoogeun plops in my lap as I glare over at Minho. He sticks his tongue out and I roll my eyes. Yoogeun squeals and reaches up to cling to my neck.

“Did appa have food yet?” Yoogeun asks. I shake my head and hear my stomach growl. Next to me, Minho’s stomach also gurgles. Yoogeun reaches into the pockets of the hoodie he’s been changed into. He pulls out two bags of gummy bears and hands one to me. He throws the other one at Minho. I chuckle as the little blue bag hits him in the face.

“Thank you, Yoogeun,” Minho snarls with an absolutely emotionless face. I can see him boiling under the surface and his lip twitches.

“I brought some for appas!” he squeals, clapping his hands joyously. I chuckle and pocket my snack.

“Thank you, but I think I need some real food,” I say gently.

“But gummy bears are real food!” Yoogeun protests, his eyes filled with tears. I bite my lip and pat his shoulder.

“I-I mean, thank you! I’ll eat them well!” I say quickly. I smile broadly and he reflects me, his teeth pearly and white despite all of the junk Minho feeds him.

“Yay! Minho appa, you eat too?” Yoogeun asks brightly, turning and looking at Minho expectantly. Minho blinks nervously and nods, clutching the candy with a forced smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be real full after this,” he says. I chuckle and hug Yoogeun close.

“Good Yoogeun, always looking after appas,” I coo. He nods happily and claps proudly.

“I love my appas!” he cheers. Minho and I both laugh at his cuteness. Minho stands and ruffles Yoogeun’s hair. He bends down next to me and presses his lips to my ear.

“I’m going to get us something to eat,” he whispers. I nod as I smile and play with Yoogeun, who stands proudly and crinkles the blue plastic bag obliviously. I watch as Minho leaves, and then I sigh.

He always leaves… for us. But he comes back, right?

A/N- Yeah, yeah… Busy busy busy. I hate chemistry so much ;_; But I've recently found Doctor Who and I ship RoDoctor so much. They make het seems so tolerable... and cute ;~;

More to come, comments are love!